Warnings From Half Of A Yellow Sun

The phrase, "Everything is impossible until it is done" often attributed to Nelson Mandela among others, tells us not to give up hope that we can accomplish something.  It's a positive inspiration for people fighting to elect sensible politicians or to change oppressive laws.  Surely the Supreme Court decision declaring the right to gay marriage is an example of the truth of that quote.  Tattoo it on your brain.  

But I want to look at the possibility of negative events in this post, which might be more aptly said, "Everything is impossible until it isn't."  NOT taking action because we DON'T think something bad can really happen is a problem.  

Below is a short passage from Half Of A Yellow Sun a novel by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.  

The book portrays the lives of (mostly) upper class, educated Nigerians.  Part I is titled "The Early 60s."  I'm now in Part II:  "The Late Sixties."  I'll briefly point out why I think it is relevant to us today for those who may not see in the passage what I see.

The narrator, in this chapter, speaks from the perspective of Ugwu, an Igbo, who is the houseboy of Odenigbo who teaches at the university in Nsukka. He is also Igbo though he often speaks to Ugwu in English.  Odenigbo is often referred to by Ugwu as Master. Odenigbo hosts weekly afternoon lunches for a small group of faculty - where they have lively discussions about the politics of their newly independent country.  

The gathering in the passage is a little different.  There had been a recent coup and now there are reports on the radio that the Muslim, Hausa-speaking Northerners are starting to attack the Christian Igbo soldiers who they accuse of tribal favoritism and corruption in the newly independent nation of Nigeria.

"Ever since the second coup some weeks ago, when the Igbo soldiers were killed, he had struggled to understand what was happening, read the newspapers more carefully, listened more closely to Master and his guests.  The conversations no longer ended in reassuring  laughter, and the living room often seemed clouded with uncertainties, with unfinished knowledge, as if they knew something would happen and yet did not know what.  None of them would ever had imagined that this would happen, that the announcer on ENBC Radio Enugu would be saying now, as Ugwu straightened the tablecloth, "We have confirmed reports that up to five hundred Igbo people have been killed in Maiduguri."

"Rubbish!" Master shouted.  "Did you hear that?  Did you hear that?"

"Yes, sah,"  Ugwu said.  He hoped the loud noise would not wake Baby up from her siesta.  

"Impossible!" Master said.

"Sah, your soup," Uguw said.

"Five-hundred people killed.  Absolute rubbish!  It can't be true." [emphasis added]

I'd note that in the next chapters the slaughter will get even worse.  

My sense is that most US citizens are still sitting too comfortably in their lives to believe how close we are to the impossible.  Or maybe a little too uncomfortably to believe things could really get even worse.  They are telling people like me not to be alarmists.  Things always work out.  

Well, until they don't.  

In May 2020, Trump said Trump said keeping US deaths to 100,000 would be a ‘very good job.’  Over a million people in the US died of COVID.  Where's the outrage?  Well, the million who died aren't here to complain.  And while their families were affected,  most of us didn't have physical contact with all those dead bodies.  The deaths were spread out geographically.  But let's consider how many people died.  The ten largest cities in the US have populations above 1 million.  

But the next ten, if all those deaths took place in their cities, would have been wiped out!

11	San Jose	California	1,003,120
12	Fort Worth	Texas	958,692
13	Jacksonville	Florida	938,717
14	Charlotte	North Carolina	925,290
15	Columbus	Ohio	921,605
16	Indianapolis	Indiana	892,656
17	San Francisco	California	884,108
18	Seattle	Washington	787,995
19	Denver	Colorado	760,049
20	Washington	District of Columbia	718,355

Source:  https://worldpopulationreview.com/us-cities

It would have a lot more impact if the deaths had been geographically concentrated in any of these cities.  The whole population would be gone!  Ghost town.  

We still don't comprehend the enormity of the disaster.  And because we refuse to even wear masks, we continue to offer our bodies as breeding ground for the virus.  Even if we have no symptoms, we give the virus a host where rest and mutate into newer and potentially even more deadly variations.

But perhaps the biggest catastrophe waiting to happen is the loss of our democracy.  Women have already had a basic human right ripped away from them.  Now far right legislators are trying to limit their right to interstate travel.  If the Supreme Court next fall cedes all voting decisions to state legislatures, Republican legislatures will gerrymander their states so that only Republicans can win.  They'll change voting laws and procedures so that potential Democratic voters will have a video game worth of obstacles blocking their attempts to vote.  

Armed (unregulated) militias could duplicate the slaughters that Odenigbo can't believe are being reported on the radio.  If you don't believe that you didn't see any footage of January 6.  You don't understand the hate and anger behind the anti-abortion laws.  You fail to consider the 320 million guns owned by US citizens.  You're not paying attention to regular mass shootings - there have already been 48 in the US in July 2022 and today is only July 17!

Some US citizens understood the gravity of things when they watched the January 6 insurrection.  Others while listening to the Congressional Jan 6 hearings.  But most people seem to be incapable of believing a fascist takeover of the United States could really happen.  Their image of the US as the land of democracy and freedom blocks the image of an authoritarian take over.  No government in history has not eventually fallen.  Despite the talk of American exceptionalism, we aren't any different.  

Some people may think that they are law abiding white citizens so they'll be fine. Only bad people have to worry.  

And many might imagine the worst, but can't imagine they have the power to do anything about it.  That's understandable and curable.  

We all need to keep these two quotes visible:

EVERYTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE UNTIL IT IS NOT.  

To remember that losing our democracy is very possible.

EVERYTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE UNTIL IT IS DONE.

To remember that we can work to preserve our democracy and defeat those who want to kill it.  

The most immediate thing you can do is make sure as many people as possible vote blue. Don't believe me?  Stacy Abrams got enough blue voters registered and to the polls in Georgia in 2022 to give its electoral college votes to Biden and to replace two Republican US Senators with Democrats.  She did it by planning and hard work.   There are many organizations working hard to duplicate that kind of work.  In 2020, nearly 2/3 of eligible voters voted.  That was a presidential election year when more people vote.  It was a record high.  But it means that 1/3 of voters did NOT vote.    

You can help find those non-voters and encourage them to vote blue.  Here are some organizations working on that.  

Six Organizations Getting People to Vote and How to Help Them

Fearless Action is a youth led group getting people to vote.

The League of Conservation Voters

Fascist/authoritarian takeover isn't inevitable.  But the fact that majority of the Republicans in the House and Senate won't say that Biden won the election, but instead are denying the insurrection, and are attacking the January 6 investigation, and doing nothing to prevent it from happening in 2024 is not a good sign.  

While the 2022 election is critical to maintaining a democracy, the larger threat looming over the world is Climate Change.  While a growing number of people are convinced that climate change is real, they aren't willing to fight hard to slow it down.  Every day of delay means more extreme climate change impacts and more suffering of all living creatures on the planet.  (Well, there probably will be some creatures who will find a way to thrive in the new earthly reality.)

I'm guessing the title of the book is related to the flag of the short-lived breakaway country of Biafra.

Bill Allen - My Respect For Him As A Pre-Modern Man In A Modern World

When I heard last week that Bill Allen had died, I immediately wanted to write a bit of a remembrance.  I sat through three different political corruption trials in 2007 and 2008 where he was a key witness for the prosecution.  He had already pleaded guilty and would explain each time how he had given money to different Alaskan GOP politicians so they would vote favorably for the oil industry, for his company VECO in particular.

I thought I had a post that spoke to the part I wanted to say.  But I couldn't find it.  

I just read Michael Carey's Anchorage Daily News opinion piece remembering Bill Allen, so I'll refer you to that.  I met Michael on the first or second day of the first of the trials.  He'd heard that the defendant had been a former student of mine and invited me to lunch.  I told him I couldn't talk about what I knew about Tom from my teacher-student relationship, but he still took me to lunch that day.  Michael's a good man and I appreciate his view on things.

Michael's article got me to look again back into the archives of this blog and I found what I was looking for.  It's in a post talking about the stories imbedded in the trail, in this case, cultural stories. I'd note my use of the term "pre-modern man."  This doesn't mean cave man.  It refers to the value systems prior to the Scientific Revolution and the application of science and rationality to agriculture, the production of goods, to medicine, and to government and law.  It was a time when family and power were the key things that mattered. 

From Pete Kott's Trial: The Underlying Stories September 15, 2007

"First, I would note that the main character in the trial so far has been Bill Allen. Pete Kott has said very little since the first day when the jury pool assembled and Kott stood up with the attorneys and introduced himself as "Pete Kott, the defendant." Since then he's been a quiet shadow sitting between his attorneys. Witness Rick Smith has a supporting role to Bill Allen. So let me try on this story as an interpretation of some of what is happening here in court.

We have a clash of two different cultures - a pre-modern, tribal world and a modern, legal world. In Bill Allen's world, as I tease it out of his words and behaviors, power and family are the main values. Loyalty is a second, but lower value. The law, the government, the legislature in particular are seen as either obstacles to be overcome or tools to get what you want. Allen is clearly an intelligent man. Coming from a poor family, as he told the story, where he and his family survived as 'pickers' of fruit and vegetables in Oregon, he often missed school to pick. He finally dropped out at 15 to earn money as an assistant welder. He has used his wits, his ability to work hard, and his ability to size up people, to create a business that earned between $750 million and $1 billion last year, according to his testimony. 

In the world he described, good and bad referred to how something would affect his business. Good legislation was legislation that would benefit - directly or indirectly - Veco's prospects. Good people were those who supported Allen and Veco. Money was a sign of power. And with money, this high school drop-out could show his power over the better educated. He could buy legislators. He paid Tom Anderson to be a consultant who did, apparently, very little for his monthly check. He paid for political polls for state legislative candidates. He handed out checks to legislators. They had audiences with Allen in the Baranof Hotel's Suite 604. But symbolically, he could really show his power by building the addition to Ted Stevens' house and by hiring Ted Stevens' son for $4000 a month to do "not a lot." The most senior Republican U.S. Senator was beholden to him. Surely, that's a sign of power. He even bought a newspaper - The Anchorage Times.  So all these educated people worked for him - a high school drop out who'd picked fruit as a child. 

Earlier in the trial, I'd thought perhaps loyalty was the main virtue in this world - the loyalty of the Pete Kotts. The loyalty of his Veco employees. He said he trusted Kott as a friend who would do whatever it took to support him. He told the court he'd put aside $10 million when Veco was sold, to support the loyal employees who'd worked for the company and made it what it was - not the executives, but the workers. 

But then I looked at the situation before me. Allen was the government's witness against his most loyal servant, Pete Kott. We've watched this tribal culture on HBO - in the Sopranos and in Rome. We see it in the car bombs of Baghdad. We even see it in the White House where the rule of law is trumped by the raw use of power, and the redacting of significant parts of the Constitution. If the rule of law has any meaning in this culture, it is might makes right. And when the FBI confronted Allen with hundreds of hours of secretly recorded audio and video tapes, he saw that their army of investigators and attorneys had more juice than Veco. In this conflict of power, the FBI had him by the balls, a graphic image that would say it all in Allen's world.   And to protect the ultimate core of a tribal culture, his family, he abandoned Kott and the others, to keep his family out of prison.  

This is not an immoral man. Rather this is a man who lives by a different code of right and wrong from the one that now judges him. Family and power come first. Loyalty to underlings comes next. He told the court he didn't expect anything from the Government for his testimony. He recognized their power, and in their place he would not treat his vanquished with 'fairness'. But he also had his own pride - in the powerful company he built by his own hands and wit, in his own hard work - and as he told Kott's attorney, "I won't beg" the government to lower his sentence. He'll take what comes as a man. He's protected his family, whatever else happens, happens.

This man who ruled by the pre-modern values of power and personal loyalty is put on trial by the rules of a modern state, where rationality, not personality count. Where merit, not loyalty and personal connections, is the standard. (A merit system generally prefers college degrees to dirty fingernails.) His behaviors are judged, not by power, but by laws. The kind of laws he paid legislators to write in his favor and that he ignored when they were in the way.  

I think it is important to recognize the good qualities in Allen. This is a man who, it would appear, was raised in a culture where poverty was bad and thus money was good. No one was there to help him, he had to help himself. The modern, civilized world failed him. It forced him to work as a child. The school system didn't work for him. The idea of rule of law wasn't, apparently, one he learned from his family and he wasn't in school enough to get it there. With what he had, he built a large corporation which gave him the power to take care of his family. He played well by the rules of tribal culture. 

And lest those of us who believe in the rule of law get too smug, tribal instincts are alive and well under the veneer of civilization we wear. We see it flare up in divorce courts, at football stadiums and boxing matches, among hunters and fishers. It's part of our humanity. We're still learning how to balance the tension between protecting our own and helping others, between the freedom of the individual and the good of the larger community.

 

Privilege - What Does It Mean? Responding To A Commenter

I wrote a post about the protests against the Supreme Court decision on abortion.  In it, I mentioned how, during the Vietnam war era, everyone was affected by the draft; men who were subject to the draft and the women who were connected to them.  And that led to a lot more anti-war activism than any war since the draft was ended.  I said I thought the abortion decision would have the same effect on activism now.  

I got this comment:

AnonymousTuesday, June 28, 2022 at 8:31:00 PM AKDT

'During the 1960's the protesting against the Vietnam war was invigorated by the fact that all 18 year old men had to register for the draft and stood a decent chance of being sent to Vietnam to fight. '
Not true Steve, I graduated HS in 1969 in June. July I got the notice that I was 1-A and August I was called for my physical. This is while most of my friends who were going to college got a student deferment. The decent chance came after the draft lottery in 1969 when everyone one was treated equal and the privileged class was treated like everyone else. You get a student deferment?

I thought that 'privileged class' seemed like a pretty broad brush to paint all college students and explained in a follow up comment that while I acknowledged that as a white US citizen I clearly had privilege over people of color, but not over other white men subject to the draft.  I explained my family background - that my parents had gotten to the US with very little and both worked full time. I also acknowledged that you might say I was privileged to live in California in the 60s when college was readily available to most anyone who really wanted to go and that it was cheap.  Cheap enough for me to pay my room and board by working 15 hours a week.  I asked what it was that privileged me that Anon didn't have.  

His short answer was:

"Your privilege was not being 1-A like people who could not get a deferment."

I asked for his definition of privilege and what I had that let me get into college that he didn't have, given that his friends went to college.  His response:

AnonymousSunday, July 10, 2022 at 4:59:00 PM AKDT

'What privilege did I have that got me the deferment that you didn't have?'

My argument is that you got a four years get out of jail free card because you went to school. Tell me why studying English Literature gets you out of the draft for four years and working in a sewing machine factory does not?

I wrote one more response trying to get him to clarify what class advantage I had that he didn't have.  When I finished, and hit 'publish' Blogger comments said it was too long.  

So I'm creating a whole new post.  I think the concept of privilege is important to think about in the US.  White Privilege was first outlined, to my understanding, by Peggy McIntosh, as a way of showing the differences that disadvantage black US citizens.   Again, if you want to see the original post and the complete comments, go to this link.  There are, of course, other forms of more exclusive privilege - particularly great family wealth, fame, etc.  

But in recent years people have been throwing the term around pretty loosely - basically to mean, you have something I don't have.  It's a Right Wing slur to go along with "elite," to attack people who believe in education and science as important pillars of democracy and civilization.  

I'd also note that I suspect the commenter is someone who has commented many times before under the name of Oliver.  The writing style, the tendency to not respond to the specific points I raise, the seeming resentment of higher education suggest that.  I suspect Anon really believes there is something privileged about going to college, but I'm not sure why and he doesn't seem to want or be able to explain it.  

I'd also note, in previous exchanges (not based on this recent post) I've noted that I believe that academic education is probably not the best choice for all, that technical and other kinds of training should be available to lead everyone to gainful, respectable employment.  But that such training should include ethics and civic duties of all US citizens.  I would add now that given our economy no longer seems to require everyone to work, we need to accommodate how we allow those who are put out of work due to automation and artificial intelligence to still live respectable and decent lives. One option that has been proposed is Universal Basic Income.  The field of economics needs badly to rethink how a post - modern economy can and should think about and work including the moral judgments attached to it.  .  

The Comment That Was Too Long So It Ends Up With Its Own Post

Since you aren’t going to explain your definition of privilege, let me try to explain what I think it is and why I think it’s not the right word here. From Dictionary.com: 

"1. a special advantage or immunity or benefit not enjoyed by all 

 2. a right reserved exclusively by a particular person or group (especially a hereditary or official right)" 

 It also says: 

“Privilege comes from Latin privilegium, meaning a law for just one person, and means a benefit enjoyed by an individual or group beyond what's available to others.” 

 My question to you was: What special group did I belong to that allowed me to get a deferment that you didn’t belong to?  OK, I know you are going to say 'you were a college student."  But what privilege did I have that got me into college that you didn't have?  

You haven’t answered that question. I’ve already said that I was ‘privileged’ to live in California in the 1960s when higher education was readily accessible to most anyone at a very low cost to anyone who chose to pursue it. 

 I’ve acknowledged that I was privileged over people of color who had far greater obstacles than white folks to get into good public schools and into colleges. 

 I’ve pointed out that my parents arrived in the US with almost nothing and both worked full time all the time I was going to school and beyond.  So I didn't have any special wealth or connections.  

You now say that getting a deferment for being in college was a privilege that a full time sewing machine factory worker didn’t have. Is this a hypothetical factory worker? Since you said you were drafted right after high school, I assume this factory worker wasn’t you. 

And if someone was working full time in a factory to support a family, and thus couldn't go to college, there’s a good chance he was a father or had some other good reason to qualify for a hardship deferment. And, in fact, there were more hardship deferments than college deferments as I mentioned in the first response to you. 

Do you feel people missing a finger or with bad eyesight or some other physical disqualification that kept them out of the military were privileged too? 

 

Were females privileged, because they didn’t even have to register for the draft? Those who wanted to serve in the military, like some women, might say your hypothetical factory worker was privileged because he could serve but they couldn't. So, I’m asking again, what was it that you lacked, that I had, that allowed me to go to college but not you? 

You said your classmates went to college. Why didn’t you? From these comments and previous ones (if this is indeed Oliver commenting), it appears you have some resentment toward people who go to college and I’m trying to understand it. Do you think college is a bad thing? Do you think studying English Literature is frivolous? If so, read my post about the college class I learned the most valuable lessons in. Would it have been better in your mind if I had been studying engineering or business? 

Are you saying that Congress was wrong to allow college students deferments until they graduated? You may be right on that point, and the lottery, as you pointed out, changed that. But Congress did allow college deferments, so if a deferment was what people wanted, they knew what paths to take. (That wasn't why I went to college, but it was a benefit I wasn't going to scoff at.) 

 I wasn’t part of any wealthy elite. I am white and that gave me privilege over people who weren’t. I didn’t come from a family with a long tradition of serving in the military who had expectations I would join the military, like many had.  Is that the privilege here? Other than being white, I didn’t belong to any special class of people that gave me an advantage over the sons of other people who had to work full time to achieve their version of the American Dream. In those days factory jobs paid better than many other kinds of jobs and had retirement benefits and health care. 

Are you saying I was privileged because my parents didn’t beat me and they valued education rather than the military? (I didn't mention these things, but they do apply.)  Well, yes, then I was privileged.      But that's a pretty loose definition of privilege.  

So tell me: what do you think I had that wasn’t available to you?   And was that something I had based on some exclusive group I belonged to that was closed off to others?  Some sort of birthright that gave me an advantage that other white working class US kids didn't have?  

 

It's Been A Great, Busy Week With The Grandkids

A quick review of things we did.  

On the only day with any rain at all, we went downtown and walked the solar system from the sun to Mars, via the other planets on the way.  The next ones were too far away to walk.

There was a lot of time at the playground at Elderberry Park (where the Mars sign is), then off to watch people at Fish Creek, but folks said there fish weren't biting.  We went to the Refugee Assistance and Immigration Service farm in Mountain View to pick up some veggies and a Burmese soup.

We hiked up the Wolverine Peak trail to just above tree line.  We saw a moose in the distance.  

They all enjoyed watching the power of the water in Campbell Creek from the bridge on that trail.  

Then we met old friends who were headed for a three day backpacking trip and walked part of the way along Powerline Pass near Glen Alps.  

We went to the botanical garden where I gave S my old camera and she took some great pictures.  (I'll put five stars under her pictures. Two stars for the pictures her brother took.)

*****

*****

Then on up the road to the Campbell Airstrip bridge where they rode their bikes.  They also dropped sticks into the water from one side of the bridge then raced over to see it come out the other side and down the creek til they couldn't see it any more.  

**

We made wishes before blowing the dandelion seeds.

Then yesterday, on their last full day here we headed south.  A short stop at McHugh Creek.

*****

Then to the Wild Animal Park.  I'd been there once, a long time ago, with a group.  Then it was all drive through.  Now you can walk or drive, but walking lets you see things you can't see driving.  

*****

And finally to Byron Glacier.  We've watched it shrink and shrink over the years.  But yesterday was a great day to visit.  It was shorts and t shirt weather and you could walk up the remaining ice.  There's a skeletal remains of snow and ice still on the mountain above.  This won't be here much longer, but the kids loved climbing up through the snow.  

That's some of the highlights.  There was a lot of biking too which they seem to truly love.  It was a good week sharing Alaska with the little ones (and their parents too.)  Sadly took them to the airport today.  

The Trump Folks Are Lined Up To See Their Messiah In Anchorage Today

I biked over to UAA's Alaska Airlines Center to see how the Trump rally was going.  The doors were scheduled to open at 11am.  I got their about 10:40am and this is what it was like.  This is the south side of the center, where the apparent entrance was.  People were lined up to the road that goes into the parking lot.  Then around the corner to Providence Drive and along Providence to just about ????.  

Below is along Providence Drive.  I don't think this what Alaska Airlines intended when they contributed enough money to get their name on the building.  

I saw about 10-15 Anchorage Police cars, and then there were these ominous all black SUVs with blinking red lights all over them.  

This guy was telling the crowd about Jesus.  

There was a tiny group of protesters.

This guy had loud speakers on his bike and started playing Macho Man on them loudly.  Not sure if that was genuine or ironic.  

Only people who lived in the dorms could park down this road.  

I asked one man who looked vaguely official what his role was.  "Private Security" he said.  I asked how many people he though were there.  "The 5500 seats are going to fill" he replied.  

I'm sure he's right.  5500 people represents .000357% [1.8%] [Thanks CE, I thought this seemed wrong but was in a hurry.  As it says above, a private security guard gave me the 5500 figure.] of the Anchorage population.  The picked a venue they were likely to fill up.  Not sure how much bigger they could have gotten.  Mulcahy Stadium has 5000 seats for baseball, and you could add more seats on the field.  Sullivan Arena can hold almost 6300 for ice hockey and more with seating on the floor level, but Trump wouldn't want to have a rally in a place that just was used as a homeless shelter.

Grandkids Are Like Vitamins

 We've got two grandkids (and their parents) visiting since yesterday.  My phone weather app predicted that our glorious weather would end Sunday.  But it didn't.  Nor Monday.  Nor today.  Sunny,  short sleeve and pants weather.  Tested the borrowed bikes last night to go to the playground.  His is fine.  Hers has foot brakes and she tends to use her shoes instead of the brakes.  But otherwise she's a great rider.  Then an epic battle.  Though I did point out that we used to play just as well with paper and pencil. 

Today after a tour of the backyard, some time in sprinkler, we went to Kincaid.  They biked down the hill and we walked along and then down onto the beach,  The tide was very low.

We walked through the sandy part, to the rocky part, to the muddy part.  

Two sleeping vitamins on the way home.  Wonderful day.  Lots of fun.  

It's good to take a break from the world now and then.  Especially now.  

There are construction projects in the living room.

And I was told to find something on my computer.  I opened the paper and found this:

Apeirogon Part 2: Fighting For Peace In A World Of Fear

Yesterday I gave you flowers, now back to graver stuff. But I think you'll find this inspiring.  

I've posted about Colum McCann's Apeirogon before.  It was not even an appetizer.  Less even than the menu.  And this might be a very light appetizer of a very heavy book.  

I'm going to take you to the crucible.  One of the two key sections that the book is leading up to and then retreating from.  This is section 500 - in the middle of the book. (I'm saying section because chapter isn't right.  Each section could be anything from a line to half a dozen pages.)  After section 500 comes section 1001. Then another section 500 and back down eventually to a second section 1.  

Rami and Bassam have both lost daughters - Rami to a suicide bomber in Jeruselum and Bassam to an Israeli police rubber bullet.  They've lived parallel but totally separate lives.  The narrator gives us glimpses at events, and then we see the events again, but from a slightly different perspective. There are a lot of birds who remind us they've been around much longer than the humans and that we are part of a much larger natural world.  

By section 500 we know Rami and Bassam quite well.  And we've walked through the scenes that led to their daughters' deaths and what happened in the following years repeatedly.  In their respective sections 500, Rami and Bassam put their whole stories together in one long narration each.  It takes place in Beit Jala in the West Bank.  When I went back to reread section 1, it was Rami riding his motorcycle up to the monastery, though I had no idea of how that would fit into the story then    

I'm going to give excerpts from Rami's speech to the people assembled in the monastery because I think it is extraordinary and very relevant to humans around the world and in the US.  

I think these passages are compelling, but readers might not be so inspired they way I've offered them.  But please read the bolded parts at least.

It begins:

"My name is Rami Elhanan.  I am the father of Smadar.  I am a sixty-seven-year-old graphic designer, an Israeli, a Jew, a seventh-generation Jerusalemite.  Also what you might call a graduate of the Holocaust.  My mother was born in the Old City of Jerusalem, to an ultra-Orthodox family.  My father came here in 1946.  What he saw in the camps he seldom spoke about, except to my daughter Smadar when she was ten or eleven.  I was a kid from a straightforward background - we weren't wealthy but we weren't poor.  I got in some trouble at school, nothing big, I ended up in industrial school, then studied art, more or less an ordinary life."

He talks about his time in the Army as a young man during the Yom Kippur war.  He went to art school afterward and met his future wife and had four kids.  

"I was doing graphic design - posters and ads - for the right-wing, for the left wing, whoever paid money.  Life was good.  We were happy, complacent.  To be honest it suited me. . .when this incredible bubble of ours burst in midair into a million pieces. It was the beginning of a long cold dark night the is still long and cold and dark and will always be longh and cold and dark, until the end when it will still be cold and dark.

I have told this story so many times, [as the author has leading us to this point] but there is always something new to be said.  Memories hit you all the time.  A book that is opened.  A door that is closed, a beeping sound, a window opened. Anything at all.  A butterfly. 

Then he describes in detail the day his daughter died.  Hearing about a bombing on the car radio and checking mentally where all his family should be that day.  Then calling to be sure everyone is ok. 

More details of what happened that day. Then the funeral.  The people who come to his house afterward - his wife's father was an important person in Israel and there are thousands at the house and in the streets.

"Look, I have a bad temper. I know it.  I have an ability to blow up.  Long ago, I killed people in the war. Distantly, like in a video game.  I held a gun. I drove tanks. I fought in three wars. I survived. And the truth is, the awful truth, the Arabs were just a thing to me, remote and abstract and meaningless.  I didn't see them as anything real or tangible.  They weren't even visible.  I didn't think about them, they were not really part of my life, good or bad.  The Palestinians in Jerusalem, well, they mowed the lawns, the collected the garbage, they built the houses, cleared the plates from the table.  Like every Israeli, I knew they were there, and I pretended I knew them, even pretended I liked some of them, the safe ones - we talked about them like that, the safe ones, the dangerous ones - and I never would have admitted it, not even to myself, but they might as well have been lawn mowers, dish washing machines, taxis, trucks.  . . And if they were ever anything other than objects, they were objects to be feared, because, if you didn't fear them then they would become real people. And we didn't want them to be real people, we couldn't handle that.  A real Palestinian was a man on the dark side of the moon.  This is my shame.  I understand it as my shame.  I know that now.  I didn't know it then.  I don't excuse myself.  Please understand, I don't excuse myself at all."

He continues about how he attempted to go on with his life - brushing his teeth, making posters at work. But thoughts invade.  Killing others won't bring his daughter back.  

"Then about a year after Smadar was killed, I met a man who changed my life.  His name was Yitzhak Frankenthal, a religious Jew, Orthodox, with a kippah on his head.  And you know, we tend to put people into drawers, stigmatize people?  We tend to judge people by the way they dress, and I was certain that this guy was a right-winger, a fascist, that he eats Arabs for breakfast.  But we started talking and he told me about his son Arik, a soldier who was kidnapped and murdered by Hamas in 1994.  And then he told me about this organization, the Parents Circle, that he had created - people who lost their loved ones, Palestinian and Israeli, but still wanted peace.  And I remembered that Yitzhak had been among the thousands and thousands of people that came to my house a year before during those seven days of shiva for Smadar, and I was so angry with him, so confused, I asked him, How could you do it?  Serious, how could you step into someone's house who just lost a loved one, and then talk about peace?  How dare you?  You came to my house after Smadar was killed?  You took for granted that I would feel the same way as you, just because I was Matti Peled's son-in-law or Nurit Peled's husband, you thought you could take my grief for granted?  Is that what you thought?"

". . . I got on my bike and I went to see.  I stood outside where people were coming for the meeting, very detached, very cynical.  And I watched those people arriving.  The first group were, for me - as an Israeli - living legends.  People I used to look up to, admire. . .

But then I saw something else, something completely new to me, to my eyes, my mind, my heart, my brain.  I was standing there, and I saw a few Palestinians passing by in a bus.  Listen, this flabbergasted me.  I knew it was going to happen, but still I had to do a double take.  Arabs?  Really?  Going into the same meeting as these Israelis?  How could that be?  A thinking, feeling, breathing Palestinian?  And I remember this lady in this black, traditional Palestinian dress, what a headscarf - you now, the sort of woman who I might have thought could be the mother of one of the bombers who took my child.  She was slow and elegant, stepping down from the bus, walking in my direction.  And then I saw it, she had a picture of her daughter clutched to her chest.  She walked past me.  I couldn't move.  And this was like an earthquake inside me:  this woman had lost her child.  It maybe sounds simple, but is was not.  I had been in a sort of coffin.  This lifted the lid from my eyes.  My grief and her grief, the same grief.

I went inside to meet these people.  And here they were, and they were shaking my hand, hugging me, crying with me.  I was so deeply touched, so deeply moved.  It was like a hammer on my head cracking me open.  An organization of the bereaved.  Israeli and Palestinian, Jew, Christian, Muslim, atheist, you name it.  Together.  In one room.  Sharing their sorrow.  .  . I cannot tell you what sort of madness it seemed.  And I was completely cleaved open.  It was like a nuclear event.  Truly, it seemed mad."

He tells us he was forty-seven or forty-eight at the time . . .

". . . it was the first time that I'd met Palestinians as human beings.  Not just workers in the streets, not just caricatures in the newspaper, not just transparencies, terrorists, objects, but - how do I say this? - human beings - human beings who carry the same burden that I carry, people who suffer exactly as I suffer.  An equality of pain.  And like Bassam says, we are running from our pain to our pain.  I'm not a religious person, far from it - I have no way of explaining what happened to me back then.  If you had told me years ago that I would say this, I would have said you were crazy." 

All that, so far, is so relevant to the US today.  Whether we are talking about blacks and whites, about rich and poor, about gay and straight, about men and women, about religious fundamentalists and atheists, about Republicans and Democrats.  So many are just objects, caricatures.

But it gets even more significant as we watch people like DeSantis try to ban people from knowing things he doesn't want them to know.  Organizations like Fox reporting fictional worlds as if they were real.  

"Some people have an interest in keeping the silence.  Others have an interest in sowing hatred based on fear.  Fear makes money, and it makes laws, and it takes land, and it builds settlements, and fear likes to keep everyone silent.  And, let's face it, in Israel we're very good at fear, it occupies us.  Our politicians like to scare us.  We like to scare each other.  We use the word security to silence others.  But it's not about that, it's about occupying someone else's life, someone else's land, someone else's head.  It's about control.  Which is power.  And I realized this with the force of an ax, that it's true, this notion of speaking truth against power.  Power already knows the truth.  It tries to hide it.  So you have to speak out against power.  And I began, back then, to understand the duty we have to try to understand what's going on.  Once you know what's going on then you begin to think:  What can we do about it?  We could not continue to disavow the possibility of living alongside each other.  I'm not asking for everyone to get along, or anything corny or airy-fairy, but I am asking for them to be allowed to get along.  And, as I began to think about this, I began to think that I had stumbled upon the most important question of them all:  What can you do, personally, in order to try to help prevent this unbearable pain for others?  All I can tell you is that from that moment until today, I've devoted my time, my life to going everywhere possible, to talk to anyone possible, people who want to listen - even to people who will not listen - to convey this very basic and every simple message, which says:  We are not doomed, but we have to try to smash the forces that have an interest in keeping us silent."

The pages on this blog rarely have such long quoted passages.  But there is nothing I can say that could possibly have more impact than the words the author puts on Rami's tongue.  (The book is described as fiction based on the lives of these two men.   The author, an Irish man who has experienced his own split world, tells us, that two two speeches at the center of the book - the one I'm quoting - and Hassam's - "are pulled together from a series of interviews in Jerusalem, New York, Jericho and Beit Jala, but elsewhere in this book Bassam and Rami have allowed me to shape and reshape their words and their words.") 

This is not a point A to point B book.  It wanders and winds and fills in details, not just of the stories of these two men, but the historical and biological context inform their stories. 

At times, too many times, in the history of human beings, things looked hopeless.  And for hundreds of millions of individuals they were. Yet those who survived eventually picked up the pieces and went on.  Hitler's thousand year Reich didn't last two decades.  The Soviet Union crumbled.  Slavery ended.  Jim Crow ended.  Women got the right to vote.  Russia's three day war in Ukraine is going on four months now.  

Our choice is to distract ourselves until we eventually get ground up (or somehow survive) or we can do as Rami has committed himself to do:  we have to try to smash the forces that have an interest in keeping us silent.