On Tribalism

There's a very interesting documentary about Matzpen, the Israeli socialist organization that fought against Zionism and the Occupation in the 60's and 70's. Despite not consisting of more than a few dozen members, Matzpen was considered a real threat to the Israeli political and social consensus. I bought the film on DVD during my fieldwork last summer and it can be borrowed.

Whatever, what I wanted to share with you all is an excerpt of something Oded Pilavsky, one of Matzpen's active members, wrote in August 1982. It is called "On Tribalism", and I would like to sign it with Amen.

When the gang of your tribe thrusts its bloody dagger in the heart of the neighbouring tribe, you should eagerly support your tribe.
If you don't, you're a traitor.
That's the way it is.
Being born to a family that's a part of a tribe or a people is like signing a pact of loyalty, that progressive lawmakers command. It doesn't matter what you feel, think or believe. The national-biological bonds are supposed to determine your conduct and attitude.
Blessed be anti-tribal rebellion.
Blessed be the traitors of their gangs.

A Note

Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on the sand,
rise on wings;

to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;

to tell pain
from everything it's not;

to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes.

An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held
with the lamp switched off;

and if only once
to stumble on a stone,
end up soaked in one downpour or another,
mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;

and to keep on not knowing
something important.

(Wislawa Szymborska)

The Very Best Reading Room

And the good news is; with lots of wool, a sleeping bag, hot cofffee in a thermos and something warm to sit on, it even works in minus fifteen degrees February. Recommended!

Bø! It's alive!

...or is it?

I am not really sure yet. Let's just quote Cake and say, Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps.
And I am of course referring - not to myself, feeling overwhelmingly alive most of the time, but to my blog, which admittedly has appeared rather dead lately.

There's been a lack of words. And purpose, I think. For whom am I writing? For what reasons? With what intentions?
Questions can sometimes block answers.

In the beginning there was no intention.
In the beginning there was play.
Then came the war, and Apathy and Helplessness made scratches in my heart, and then all the words fell out and I forgot to play. Which is not a good thing, especially when what you really like is to write.

So now, let's try again and see if we can remember this. Here comes the sun, dudululu, and it's about high time to go word-picking. I am not yet sure how to spell it, but today's catch looks like this: