I am writing this post in a warm sunlit room, on a coolish autumn morning (14 C, or so), drinking my morning cup of coffee and listening to a radio broadcast of a Mozart violin concerto. I am doing what I enjoy doing and am at peace, both with myself and with the world - my world. Now my world consists of me and my wife of thirty years, our two children and our four grand children. As far as I know there is nothing untoward going on, each of them is getting on with their lives, husbands working, wives either at (paid) work or at home (working) looking after young children, and children, doing what children do best – growing, learning and playing.
In complete contrast to this I recognise that there is an amazing amount of violence everywhere, in every town, city and country, as is reported in the media on a daily basis. I am sure that it has been going on all the time, it is just that the violence seems to be getting, well, more violent. And I wonder why?
There is certainly less self-discipline evident, there certainly seems to be less empathy with our fellow beings, there seems to be more selfishness, more greed and less patience in every day affairs. There is certainly less willingness to accept responsibility for ones actions – particularly when the results are injurious to others; the obvious corollary is that whatever happens is always someone else’s fault and responsibility.
Now the flow on from this blaming someone else is that ‘they’, (the others), are considered ‘different’ from me, because ‘they’ have made the mistakes which result in the injuries, of whatever sort. They are therefore lesser beings – they make mistakes and I don’t, I am therefore better than they are.
Because I am better than they are (and they are obviously lesser beings than I am) they don’t matter. I therefore have a licence to do whatever I like to them – because they are lesser human beings they deserve what they get – it is their fault – they should not have be there, doing what they were doing, at that time.
This is a very dangerous thought process. This is a ‘gang’ mentality (you are not part of the gang – you are ‘outside – you are different); this is ‘class’ mentality (you are not of my class – by birth, by social standing, by value of possessions etc); this is racism (you are not of my skin colour, you don’t speak my language, you don’t eat my kind of food, you don’t dress the way I do and you, most probably, worship a lesser God than mine).
Not only is there the tendency to violence against such people, there is also the defence, born from desperation, put up by the victims of this indiscriminate and often impersonal violence, perpetrated by unidentifiable individuals or groups. They often decide to attack, before they are attacked – a sort of pre-emptive raid, as it were. Often, however, these victims have no real idea who their attackers were so they lash out and this is when innocent people get hurt and things spiral out of control, with gang warfare, vigilante groups, a call for individuals to be permitted to carry guns and so on. This is a steep slippery slope to anarchy.
The only answer to this is education – it is always better to be pro-active rather than re-active. It means educating people in how to deal with others, in relationships and we all have relationships with someone, and because we are all the same. We all bleed when hurt, we all suffer emotional pain, we all have hopes and aspirations, we all wish to live in peace and to be happy. All this, believe it or not, means understanding the importance of ethics, and the inevitable consequences that will follow, if ethics is ignored.
So like an old refrain, a familiar song, re-sung, I repeat my mantra:- Ask yourself “am I treating others the way I would like to be treated?” Also, ask yourself the question, “if everyone, (yes, I mean everyone), did what I am doing, or propose to do, would the world be a better place?” If the answer to either question is no, then don’t do it.
The solution to violence will not happen overnight, of course, and not everyone will listen, or accept what is said. But a start must be made and ethics really is that simple.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Tanita - the classic cat.
Our family has had some amazing cats over the years, but I think Tanita takes pride of place. The name Tanita is an abbreviation of the Portuguese words taõ bonita – meaning ‘so pretty’. And she was a very pretty short haired tabby. However, as will be revealed she was, shall we say, rather eccentric. Whether she was slightly deranged I am not sure but she had two aversions – dogs and visitors at night. In this regard she was a wonderful ‘watch cat’.
As soon as darkness descended her defence mechanism would click in. If she heard someone approaching the house she would emit a ferocious growl, almost a snarl, an astonishingly loud noise from such a relatively small animal. She would approach the window or the door, from which she had first heard the sound, with hackles raised and measured step. In 99% of cases it was someone we knew. Even so she would approach the person very cautiously before returning to her resting place.
Dogs, on the other hand, she considered fair game, and it didn’t matter the size of the dog.
We had, at this time, a house with a driveway that dipped quite steeply down from the initial road access. Tanita’s favourite place was to position herself just below the point where the driveway started to dip. She positioned herself there because she could lie in the sun on the warm concrete, not in mid-summer of course, but at most times of the year and it was a good vantage place. It was also a perfect ambush position – just like anti-tank gunners position their weapons just over the brow of a rise in the terrain, waiting for an enemy tank.
Local dogs, painfully aware of her capabilities always gave our property a wide birth. It was the odd, unattached, strange dog that drew her ire.
I have seen Tanita raise her head, ears flattened, so she could just peep over the lip of the driveway, without being seen herself. She would wait until her target had just passed directly in front of her. She would change position, tense up and then launch herself at the unsuspecting animal and latch herself onto its hind quarters with all claws extended.
The poor creatures never knew what hit them. They would take off down the road, at full stretch, yelping all the while. A few minutes later Tanita would be seen back at her post, as if nothing had happened.
The absolute classic occasion was one my wife witnessed, while I was at work. She had asked a tradesman for a quote to do some repair work to our pergola. Tanita had been disturbed by the arrival of the tradesman’s van and had retreated to another favourite spot – on top of the pergola. Now this tradesman had a dog, a fox terrier type mongrel, smallish, but much bigger than Tanita.
As this man was walking around, inspecting the work to be done, his dog walked with him. My wife warned him that he should be careful as we had a cat. Without a glance, he gave an obviously standard response, “Its ok. My dog doesn’t chase cats.” Well, my wife had seen Tanita, on the pergola, staring down at this interloper, invading her carefully guarded premises, and sensed that some untoward event was about to unfold.
Before she could explain to the tradesman that it was actually his dog that was in danger, Tanita dropped with perfect precision, like an avenging angel, on to the back of the hapless hound. Quite a commotion ensued.
The dog was eventually found hiding under the tradesman’s van, from which place of refuge he refused to budge, until the engine was started and the vehicle began to move.
What capped off the whole incident, as far as my wife was concerned, was the tradesman’s outrage and offended sense of propriety, “Bloody stupid dog – being chased by a cat!!!”
He had been warned.
As soon as darkness descended her defence mechanism would click in. If she heard someone approaching the house she would emit a ferocious growl, almost a snarl, an astonishingly loud noise from such a relatively small animal. She would approach the window or the door, from which she had first heard the sound, with hackles raised and measured step. In 99% of cases it was someone we knew. Even so she would approach the person very cautiously before returning to her resting place.
Dogs, on the other hand, she considered fair game, and it didn’t matter the size of the dog.
We had, at this time, a house with a driveway that dipped quite steeply down from the initial road access. Tanita’s favourite place was to position herself just below the point where the driveway started to dip. She positioned herself there because she could lie in the sun on the warm concrete, not in mid-summer of course, but at most times of the year and it was a good vantage place. It was also a perfect ambush position – just like anti-tank gunners position their weapons just over the brow of a rise in the terrain, waiting for an enemy tank.
Local dogs, painfully aware of her capabilities always gave our property a wide birth. It was the odd, unattached, strange dog that drew her ire.
I have seen Tanita raise her head, ears flattened, so she could just peep over the lip of the driveway, without being seen herself. She would wait until her target had just passed directly in front of her. She would change position, tense up and then launch herself at the unsuspecting animal and latch herself onto its hind quarters with all claws extended.
The poor creatures never knew what hit them. They would take off down the road, at full stretch, yelping all the while. A few minutes later Tanita would be seen back at her post, as if nothing had happened.
The absolute classic occasion was one my wife witnessed, while I was at work. She had asked a tradesman for a quote to do some repair work to our pergola. Tanita had been disturbed by the arrival of the tradesman’s van and had retreated to another favourite spot – on top of the pergola. Now this tradesman had a dog, a fox terrier type mongrel, smallish, but much bigger than Tanita.
As this man was walking around, inspecting the work to be done, his dog walked with him. My wife warned him that he should be careful as we had a cat. Without a glance, he gave an obviously standard response, “Its ok. My dog doesn’t chase cats.” Well, my wife had seen Tanita, on the pergola, staring down at this interloper, invading her carefully guarded premises, and sensed that some untoward event was about to unfold.
Before she could explain to the tradesman that it was actually his dog that was in danger, Tanita dropped with perfect precision, like an avenging angel, on to the back of the hapless hound. Quite a commotion ensued.
The dog was eventually found hiding under the tradesman’s van, from which place of refuge he refused to budge, until the engine was started and the vehicle began to move.
What capped off the whole incident, as far as my wife was concerned, was the tradesman’s outrage and offended sense of propriety, “Bloody stupid dog – being chased by a cat!!!”
He had been warned.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Trust
What is so important about trust? Just think about it – without trust society as we know it would disintegrate. And the core of trust is love; love for one’s fellow beings – all fellow travellers on the road of life.
Without it the situation would arise where trust between child and parent would be absent. Domestic animals trust that we will care for them. What about trust between partners – husbands and wives? I remember reading somewhere, Time magazine most probably, about an English couple, newly married – both lawyers of course – who drew up a bizarre ‘contract’ between themselves wherein everything they did had to be compensated for. If one made the breakfast the other had to do the dinner, if one washed the car the other had to do something to ‘balance’ things, and so it went on. There was obviously absolutely no trust between them, and I can’t believe there was any love either. I have no idea whether the union lasted, but I can’t see how it would.
Of course in business trust is paramount. When trust fails chaos reigns as is currently very evident. Banks don’t trust anyone at present, so credit dries up – and business relies on credit.
Trust also depends on people’s ethical conduct and behaviour. Unethical behaviour is the antithesis of trust. I mean, who would trust someone who lies, who is dishonest, whose behaviour belies all that most people consider to be good and decent? No one does – we use the rather disparaging phrase “honour among thieves” to express our distrust of those who we have categorised as untrustworthy, but who deal between themselves. As an example, who trusts the wiz-kids in Wall Street now-a-days? Who trusts the rating agencies that gave AAA ratings to very dubious CDOs and sub-prime mortgages? Who trusts the banks? But they all deal, or dealt, between themselves didn’t they? They all dreamed up the (basically unethical) schemes which have brought the world economy to its knees.
Now, to regain trust, people, particularly business people, must be ethical. They must remember, or re-learn, or be taught, what ethics means and why it is so important. They must be made aware of the importance of morality, of the virtues and of holding fast to values which support their moral precept and virtues, which are only evident by their behaviour (ethical, or unethical).
We cannot see into someone’s mind, so how they think, (and thoughts governs their morality, their understanding of virtue and what they value) can only be evidenced by their actions, which, of course result from their ethics.
I consider ethics to be the glue that holds societies and groups of people together. That is why it is so important, why trust is so important.
Without it the situation would arise where trust between child and parent would be absent. Domestic animals trust that we will care for them. What about trust between partners – husbands and wives? I remember reading somewhere, Time magazine most probably, about an English couple, newly married – both lawyers of course – who drew up a bizarre ‘contract’ between themselves wherein everything they did had to be compensated for. If one made the breakfast the other had to do the dinner, if one washed the car the other had to do something to ‘balance’ things, and so it went on. There was obviously absolutely no trust between them, and I can’t believe there was any love either. I have no idea whether the union lasted, but I can’t see how it would.
Of course in business trust is paramount. When trust fails chaos reigns as is currently very evident. Banks don’t trust anyone at present, so credit dries up – and business relies on credit.
Trust also depends on people’s ethical conduct and behaviour. Unethical behaviour is the antithesis of trust. I mean, who would trust someone who lies, who is dishonest, whose behaviour belies all that most people consider to be good and decent? No one does – we use the rather disparaging phrase “honour among thieves” to express our distrust of those who we have categorised as untrustworthy, but who deal between themselves. As an example, who trusts the wiz-kids in Wall Street now-a-days? Who trusts the rating agencies that gave AAA ratings to very dubious CDOs and sub-prime mortgages? Who trusts the banks? But they all deal, or dealt, between themselves didn’t they? They all dreamed up the (basically unethical) schemes which have brought the world economy to its knees.
Now, to regain trust, people, particularly business people, must be ethical. They must remember, or re-learn, or be taught, what ethics means and why it is so important. They must be made aware of the importance of morality, of the virtues and of holding fast to values which support their moral precept and virtues, which are only evident by their behaviour (ethical, or unethical).
We cannot see into someone’s mind, so how they think, (and thoughts governs their morality, their understanding of virtue and what they value) can only be evidenced by their actions, which, of course result from their ethics.
I consider ethics to be the glue that holds societies and groups of people together. That is why it is so important, why trust is so important.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Reflections on my mortality
Being of that age – well into the second half of my life – I sometime reflect on what it all means, and of course on my mortality. We should all take time to reflect on our mortality, even the young. I know that the young believe themselves to be bullet proof, and their mortality is not even a question, for I too was young once and I too believed that I was bullet proof. I am not, for I have the scars to show for it – both physical and emotional.
Curiously I do not feel my age. I just know that there are certain things I cannot do, I am definitely slower in my movements than before and my sinews are less forgiving after exercise than they used to be. Curiously I also feel less inclined to do the things I now cannot now do – maybe this is a form of ‘defence mechanism’ and a sort of self justification.
There is a certain peace of mind that comes with age. There is an acceptance of things as they are, without the urgency of youth and I have now learned to appreciate the truth of the words, “This too shall pass.”
This is not to say that I will just accept what comes along – certainly not! Where life matters appear to be inconsistent; where there is injustice; where there is cruelty; where there is unethical conduct I will do my best – using the power of one – to bring it to the public’s attention and if I am able, to redress the situation.
Now, as to my mortality, I always liked John Masefield’s poem “A Creed”. It satisfies my ideal of life’s continuum and a certain dawning of hope that my life may not have been in vain. I offer you just the first three verses, so that you may see what I mean:
A Creed
“I held that when a person dies
His soul returns again to earth;
Arrayed in some new flesh-disguise
Another mother gives him birth.
With sturdier limbs and brighter brain
The old soul takes the roads again.
Such was my own belief and trust;
This hand, this hand that holds this pen,
Has many a hundred times been dust
And turned, as dust, to dust again;
These eyes of mine have blinked and shone
In Thebes, in Troy, in Babylon.
All that I rightly think or do,
Or make, or spoil, or bless, or blast,
Is curse or blessing justly due
For sloth or effort in the past.
My life’s a statement of the sum
Of vice indulged, or overcome.”
... and so it goes on – a good poem.
Curiously I do not feel my age. I just know that there are certain things I cannot do, I am definitely slower in my movements than before and my sinews are less forgiving after exercise than they used to be. Curiously I also feel less inclined to do the things I now cannot now do – maybe this is a form of ‘defence mechanism’ and a sort of self justification.
There is a certain peace of mind that comes with age. There is an acceptance of things as they are, without the urgency of youth and I have now learned to appreciate the truth of the words, “This too shall pass.”
This is not to say that I will just accept what comes along – certainly not! Where life matters appear to be inconsistent; where there is injustice; where there is cruelty; where there is unethical conduct I will do my best – using the power of one – to bring it to the public’s attention and if I am able, to redress the situation.
Now, as to my mortality, I always liked John Masefield’s poem “A Creed”. It satisfies my ideal of life’s continuum and a certain dawning of hope that my life may not have been in vain. I offer you just the first three verses, so that you may see what I mean:
A Creed
“I held that when a person dies
His soul returns again to earth;
Arrayed in some new flesh-disguise
Another mother gives him birth.
With sturdier limbs and brighter brain
The old soul takes the roads again.
Such was my own belief and trust;
This hand, this hand that holds this pen,
Has many a hundred times been dust
And turned, as dust, to dust again;
These eyes of mine have blinked and shone
In Thebes, in Troy, in Babylon.
All that I rightly think or do,
Or make, or spoil, or bless, or blast,
Is curse or blessing justly due
For sloth or effort in the past.
My life’s a statement of the sum
Of vice indulged, or overcome.”
... and so it goes on – a good poem.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Does the end justify the means?
Does the end justify the means and surely a poison is a poison no matter how it is dressed up? No matter how it mixed with something else or renamed or how the ‘spin doctors’ present it to the public – a poison is still toxic.
Here is something I came across that will exercise your mind!
We are ingesting a plethora of pesticides, herbicides and fungicides, (including fluorides in our drinking water), that are applied during all stages of agriculture and forestry. These are highly toxic and quite literally ‘mind bending’ in their effects. The problem is that in isolation each chemical used may well be within official health guidelines and applied correctly, but when they are mixed, in the environment, with other chemicals the combined effects is compounded and can be very distressing. Some of these chemicals have endocrine (hormone) disrupting effects resulting in mutations noticed in fish, reptiles and increased mammary gland cancers in laboratory rats and breast and prostate cancers in humans.
Now I am certainly no chemist but my research shows that, as an example, the fluoride and chlorine in our (Australian) drinking water, even at 1.5 ppm concentrations (which is pretty low), combined with the carbon present in all water (again in very small quantities) and you get chlorfluorocarbon (one of the chemicals used in Agent Orange, the defoliant used in Vietnam which has resulted in all sorts of malformed and mentally retarded Vietnamese children). Add all this to organophosphate (a widely used insecticide) in our water supply (run off from golf courses and general agricultural, horticultural and garden use) and God knows what the physiological and behaviour altering effects will be. You also get organochlorines, which are just as bad. It bothers me that we are ingesting combinations of chemicals without having full knowledge of the cumulative or the long term effects of such chemicals. We have no idea of the long term damage to our, collective and individual, DNA.
Many of these chemicals are known carcinogens and yet because of the vast sums of money that the pharmaceutical and agrichemical companies make they fiercely resist any moves to curtail use and ferociously protect their image in the public’s eye. Take the case of one herbicide, Atrazine – a very widely used herbicide (banned in Europe but allowed in Australia), produced by Syngenta (the company formed from the agribusiness arm of Novartis and the agrichemicals arm of Zeneca, both very large pharmaceutical companies – check this out for yourself at:-
www.syngenta.com/en/about_syngenta/companyhistory.html.
Now, stretching my school acquired knowledge of chemistry to the limits, what research I have done tells me that Atrazine is a endocrine (hormone) disruptor – causing dramatic damage to the reproductive structures of vertebrates because it alters estrogen production (Atrazine is known an aromatase inducer).
This, to me, is where things get dirty. The antidote, as it were, to an aromatase inducer is an aromatase inhibitor. Guess what! At around the same time that Syngenta was hived off to produce Atrazine (the aromatase inducer) the original parent companies Novartis and Zeneca now known as AstraZeneca (in their pharmaceutical guise) produce two aromatase inhibitors used to treat breast cancers. Novartis produces Femara (chemical name: Letrozole) and AstraZeneca produces Arimidex (chemical name: anastrozole). Again this can be checked out at:- www.breastcancerfund.org and at:- www.breastcancer.org . There is also a very good expose at:- www.healthandenvironment.org/?module=uploads&func=download&fileId=592
This is so wrong; wrong ethically; wrong morally and is in fact unconscionable conduct while also being duplicitous. One branch (technically a different company, only because it is registered as such) sells a highly dangerous chemical, a herbicide, an aromatase inducer known to induce breast and prostate cancers. At the same time another branch (technically different as explained above) produces an aromatase inhibitor to treat the cancers caused by the products sold by the other branch!
In effect the companies are saying to the population at large, “pay us to poison you and then if you really want to, you can pay us some more for the antidote.” This is a blatant example of greed; of people – companies - taking advantage of their commercial and industrial might and expertise regardless of the human cost and the emotional and physical misery caused.
All this for money? As I have said before and I will say it again and again, it is totally unethical and immoral to put the acquisition of money before the welfare of human beings. It is our relationships which determines our qualities as human beings. Money is merely a medium of exchange to facilitate trade. The only value that money has is because humans have said that 1 oz of gold is worth US$900, or whatever. Money has no intrinsic value. On the other hand what price a human being?
So to repeat my question – does the end justify the means? How much are you worth?
PS. What with Easter and family visiting from Sydney I have not had a chance, until now, to sit down at my computer and write something.
Here is something I came across that will exercise your mind!
We are ingesting a plethora of pesticides, herbicides and fungicides, (including fluorides in our drinking water), that are applied during all stages of agriculture and forestry. These are highly toxic and quite literally ‘mind bending’ in their effects. The problem is that in isolation each chemical used may well be within official health guidelines and applied correctly, but when they are mixed, in the environment, with other chemicals the combined effects is compounded and can be very distressing. Some of these chemicals have endocrine (hormone) disrupting effects resulting in mutations noticed in fish, reptiles and increased mammary gland cancers in laboratory rats and breast and prostate cancers in humans.
Now I am certainly no chemist but my research shows that, as an example, the fluoride and chlorine in our (Australian) drinking water, even at 1.5 ppm concentrations (which is pretty low), combined with the carbon present in all water (again in very small quantities) and you get chlorfluorocarbon (one of the chemicals used in Agent Orange, the defoliant used in Vietnam which has resulted in all sorts of malformed and mentally retarded Vietnamese children). Add all this to organophosphate (a widely used insecticide) in our water supply (run off from golf courses and general agricultural, horticultural and garden use) and God knows what the physiological and behaviour altering effects will be. You also get organochlorines, which are just as bad. It bothers me that we are ingesting combinations of chemicals without having full knowledge of the cumulative or the long term effects of such chemicals. We have no idea of the long term damage to our, collective and individual, DNA.
Many of these chemicals are known carcinogens and yet because of the vast sums of money that the pharmaceutical and agrichemical companies make they fiercely resist any moves to curtail use and ferociously protect their image in the public’s eye. Take the case of one herbicide, Atrazine – a very widely used herbicide (banned in Europe but allowed in Australia), produced by Syngenta (the company formed from the agribusiness arm of Novartis and the agrichemicals arm of Zeneca, both very large pharmaceutical companies – check this out for yourself at:-
www.syngenta.com/en/about_syngenta/companyhistory.html.
Now, stretching my school acquired knowledge of chemistry to the limits, what research I have done tells me that Atrazine is a endocrine (hormone) disruptor – causing dramatic damage to the reproductive structures of vertebrates because it alters estrogen production (Atrazine is known an aromatase inducer).
This, to me, is where things get dirty. The antidote, as it were, to an aromatase inducer is an aromatase inhibitor. Guess what! At around the same time that Syngenta was hived off to produce Atrazine (the aromatase inducer) the original parent companies Novartis and Zeneca now known as AstraZeneca (in their pharmaceutical guise) produce two aromatase inhibitors used to treat breast cancers. Novartis produces Femara (chemical name: Letrozole) and AstraZeneca produces Arimidex (chemical name: anastrozole). Again this can be checked out at:- www.breastcancerfund.org and at:- www.breastcancer.org . There is also a very good expose at:- www.healthandenvironment.org/?module=uploads&func=download&fileId=592
This is so wrong; wrong ethically; wrong morally and is in fact unconscionable conduct while also being duplicitous. One branch (technically a different company, only because it is registered as such) sells a highly dangerous chemical, a herbicide, an aromatase inducer known to induce breast and prostate cancers. At the same time another branch (technically different as explained above) produces an aromatase inhibitor to treat the cancers caused by the products sold by the other branch!
In effect the companies are saying to the population at large, “pay us to poison you and then if you really want to, you can pay us some more for the antidote.” This is a blatant example of greed; of people – companies - taking advantage of their commercial and industrial might and expertise regardless of the human cost and the emotional and physical misery caused.
All this for money? As I have said before and I will say it again and again, it is totally unethical and immoral to put the acquisition of money before the welfare of human beings. It is our relationships which determines our qualities as human beings. Money is merely a medium of exchange to facilitate trade. The only value that money has is because humans have said that 1 oz of gold is worth US$900, or whatever. Money has no intrinsic value. On the other hand what price a human being?
So to repeat my question – does the end justify the means? How much are you worth?
PS. What with Easter and family visiting from Sydney I have not had a chance, until now, to sit down at my computer and write something.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Taliban and sharia law
The other day an obscene video clip started appearing on the internet. It showed a young woman, from the Swat Valley in Pakistan, being held down by two men and whipped by another. Apart from its barbarity, this treatment of women is not permissible under Islamic (or any) law. I am no expert in any law but I do know that at the core of every religion and all law is the ‘Golden Rule’ – to treat others the way you would like to be treated.
People who try to control others, with barbaric physical punishments, in support of a cause, diminish themselves as human beings and do their ‘cause’ no good at all. The reason for this poor woman’s punishment is not given but it will have been for some alleged breach of Sharia law (as interpreted by the Taliban). Properly administered by well trained and knowledgeable practitioners Sharia law works well – in fact I understand that some aspects of Sharia law were even incorporated into English law during the middle ages (from contact with the Moors in Spain and Portugal and from those who returned from the Crusades). The trouble is that today, and certainly in the Swat Valley, Sharia Law is generally administered by village or tribal elders or by clerics, all with varying standards of education based on problematic, and often fundamentalist interpretations of the Koran.
I appreciate that no one religion, society or grouping of people has a monopoly on ‘goodness’, hence the vast number of religions, divisions within religions, belief systems and cults that are present today. Each claim to have some ‘special’ quality absent from the others and which makes theirs, presumably, ‘better’. Adherents will often go to extreme lengths to support their beliefs and the organisations that promote them. This idea that ‘my religion is better than yours’ gives rise to a ‘them and us’ mentality - those in the fold (us) are ok, because God loves us, but those outside (them) are not ok and are therefore, in some way, lesser beings and are not loved by God. In this regard it may be worthwhile to reflect on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict in Gaza; what American troops did at Abu Ghraib in Iraq and with their infamous ‘rendition’ programme; what Islamic extremists did on 11th September 2001 and why the Taliban are fighting in Afghanistan.
I also know that in the name of religion, in the name of God, were conducted some of the most appalling atrocities in history – Christianity was party to some of these, as was Islam. In times passed such behaviour could take place with relative impunity, as it would be known to only a few people, (normally those in authority), who, for self interest, would make sure it stayed that way. The situation today is thankfully quite different. Not that these events do not still occur, but that when they do, they are often disclosed to the broader community by way of the internet. There is also a much wider acceptance of human rights – hence the international (and domestic Pakistani) outrage at this young woman’s treatment.
It beggars belief that in this twenty first century of the current era, some 5 million years after the first proto-humans first shuffled around walking on their knuckles and some 5 billion years after the first forms of life appeared on earth, we still cannot resolve our differences without resorting to violence. We humans have a particular knack of alienating our fellow beings and I am really not sure why - most probably because we adopt the ‘them’ and ‘us’ mentality. This ‘allows’ us, with some mental gymnastics, to justify our actions because what we do is in the name of ‘our’ God as defined by our belief system. We conveniently forget or disregard the ‘Golden Rule’ and bring about a great deal of misery thereby. It may serve us, who do disregard the ‘Golden Rule’, to be aware of the consequences – the Law of Cause and Effect cannot be deflected and an ‘effect’ will always be visited upon the perpetrator(s).
To lighten up a bit and to put this in perspective, someone once told me that violence against others is really like committing violence against yourself - if you hit someone a few times they will eventually become annoyed and hit you back. So why hit them in the first place?
You tell me.
People who try to control others, with barbaric physical punishments, in support of a cause, diminish themselves as human beings and do their ‘cause’ no good at all. The reason for this poor woman’s punishment is not given but it will have been for some alleged breach of Sharia law (as interpreted by the Taliban). Properly administered by well trained and knowledgeable practitioners Sharia law works well – in fact I understand that some aspects of Sharia law were even incorporated into English law during the middle ages (from contact with the Moors in Spain and Portugal and from those who returned from the Crusades). The trouble is that today, and certainly in the Swat Valley, Sharia Law is generally administered by village or tribal elders or by clerics, all with varying standards of education based on problematic, and often fundamentalist interpretations of the Koran.
I appreciate that no one religion, society or grouping of people has a monopoly on ‘goodness’, hence the vast number of religions, divisions within religions, belief systems and cults that are present today. Each claim to have some ‘special’ quality absent from the others and which makes theirs, presumably, ‘better’. Adherents will often go to extreme lengths to support their beliefs and the organisations that promote them. This idea that ‘my religion is better than yours’ gives rise to a ‘them and us’ mentality - those in the fold (us) are ok, because God loves us, but those outside (them) are not ok and are therefore, in some way, lesser beings and are not loved by God. In this regard it may be worthwhile to reflect on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict in Gaza; what American troops did at Abu Ghraib in Iraq and with their infamous ‘rendition’ programme; what Islamic extremists did on 11th September 2001 and why the Taliban are fighting in Afghanistan.
I also know that in the name of religion, in the name of God, were conducted some of the most appalling atrocities in history – Christianity was party to some of these, as was Islam. In times passed such behaviour could take place with relative impunity, as it would be known to only a few people, (normally those in authority), who, for self interest, would make sure it stayed that way. The situation today is thankfully quite different. Not that these events do not still occur, but that when they do, they are often disclosed to the broader community by way of the internet. There is also a much wider acceptance of human rights – hence the international (and domestic Pakistani) outrage at this young woman’s treatment.
It beggars belief that in this twenty first century of the current era, some 5 million years after the first proto-humans first shuffled around walking on their knuckles and some 5 billion years after the first forms of life appeared on earth, we still cannot resolve our differences without resorting to violence. We humans have a particular knack of alienating our fellow beings and I am really not sure why - most probably because we adopt the ‘them’ and ‘us’ mentality. This ‘allows’ us, with some mental gymnastics, to justify our actions because what we do is in the name of ‘our’ God as defined by our belief system. We conveniently forget or disregard the ‘Golden Rule’ and bring about a great deal of misery thereby. It may serve us, who do disregard the ‘Golden Rule’, to be aware of the consequences – the Law of Cause and Effect cannot be deflected and an ‘effect’ will always be visited upon the perpetrator(s).
To lighten up a bit and to put this in perspective, someone once told me that violence against others is really like committing violence against yourself - if you hit someone a few times they will eventually become annoyed and hit you back. So why hit them in the first place?
You tell me.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Archie
Animals have a special place in my heart. I will admit to being a ‘cat’ man. I don’t mind dogs but I prefer cats.
As a small child I can remember pulling a piece of string, with a little fold of paper tied to the end, around the dining room table and being chased by our neighbour’s cat ‘Tiger’ (I can still remember his name after all these years!). I seemed to be able to do it for hours. I learned that cats are magnificent ‘time wasters’. They will do anything in their considerable powers to distract one’s attention from the important things.
Be that as it may, I have been the servant of many cats but four, in particular, stand out in my memory. From long ago to the most recent: ‘Lady Grey’ - when I was about nine or ten years old; ‘Early’ (one of three born ‘Early’, ‘Sunday’, ‘Morning’ under my mother’s bed) – in my late teens; then ‘Tanita’ – just after we came to Australia; last but not least was ‘Archie’ – my subject today.
Archie was one of a kind. We acquired two long haired tabbies – supposedly a mixture of some moggie and a Norwegian Farm Cat. The male we called Archie and his sister, Bella. Now as I say, Archie was one of a kind. From the beginning he was the most amazingly playful cat and he was the only cat I have ever known to fetch a toy. If he was bored you could hear him scrabbling away in his toy basket (full of corks, ping pong balls and little rattly things) and he would bring you something that he wanted to play with – more often than not it would be a wine bottle cork - carried in his mouth. He loved corks; he could hold them in his mouth and they had a satisfactorily erratic trajectory when thrown or patted with a paw. Archie would play with it for a bit then bring it back, with the expectation that you would oblige by playing with him again.
And talk! I have never known such a talkative cat. He had an amazing vocabulary, from little chirrups of welcome to the usual purring and all sorts of meows, varying in sound and intensity and a ferocious growl when angry. He would also answer when called and come running with his most beautiful plume of a tail held high.
But his most endearing characteristic was when he wanted my full attention. He would actually stop me walking, by entangling himself between my feet. Once I had stopped he would move in front of me and with a special little movement of his head wait expectantly for me to make the next move which was to form a cradle with my arms close to my chest. He would then leap gracefully into my arms, sit in the ‘cradle’ and cuddle up, purring thunderously all the while. If he was feeling really affectionate he would stretch up and rub his head against my chin. Archie would do this to me even though he was more attracted to my wife and was really ‘her’ cat.
Archie was also the gentlest cat I have ever known. He never, ever, used his claws when he was with us. If for some reason he felt himself slipping from my wife’s lap or from my arms, he would just fall then jump up again. He never, ever, dug his claws in to stop himself from falling. If, when playing with him, or teasing him and he became tired of the game or irritated with my teasing, he would either pat my hand with his paw as if to say ‘that’s it – enough’ or he would hold my finger in his teeth for a moment to two, as if to say ‘if I really wanted to I could hurt you with a bite – now stop!’
He completely overshadowed his sister Bella. I use the past tense, because, even though he was a neutered tom cat, he used to travel a bit to neighbours houses and across the road. At that time we had as neighbours, in the block of town houses we live in, a group of girls who were really neighbours from hell. Anyway, one evening Archie did not come home for his dinner. I called and called but he never came.
The next morning I went to look for him and found him across the road neatly laid out in a fruit tray – dead. He was only about three years old – in his prime. Someone obviously felt enough for him to place his little body in the tray, for which I was grateful. We all missed him terribly – he was a little friend, in good times and bad. My wife was inconsolable because he used to keep her company when she rested on our bed after she came back from her dialysis. And his sister Bella seemed lost without him and refused to eat for days, in her grief for her brother. I admit that I felt his death very personally.
I have my suspicions that it was a boyfriend of one of our neighbours from hell, who always drove too quickly up our common driveway, who hit and killed Archie. If it had been someone driving on the road, they would have driven on and left him there – they certainly would not have gone to the trouble of finding a box to put him in.
So there we are. Bella, bless her little furry soul, is still with us – she is about ten years old. She is not so playful and certainly not as affectionate, nor does she talk so much and is rather an introverted little thing. But she is not Archie.
As a small child I can remember pulling a piece of string, with a little fold of paper tied to the end, around the dining room table and being chased by our neighbour’s cat ‘Tiger’ (I can still remember his name after all these years!). I seemed to be able to do it for hours. I learned that cats are magnificent ‘time wasters’. They will do anything in their considerable powers to distract one’s attention from the important things.
Be that as it may, I have been the servant of many cats but four, in particular, stand out in my memory. From long ago to the most recent: ‘Lady Grey’ - when I was about nine or ten years old; ‘Early’ (one of three born ‘Early’, ‘Sunday’, ‘Morning’ under my mother’s bed) – in my late teens; then ‘Tanita’ – just after we came to Australia; last but not least was ‘Archie’ – my subject today.
Archie was one of a kind. We acquired two long haired tabbies – supposedly a mixture of some moggie and a Norwegian Farm Cat. The male we called Archie and his sister, Bella. Now as I say, Archie was one of a kind. From the beginning he was the most amazingly playful cat and he was the only cat I have ever known to fetch a toy. If he was bored you could hear him scrabbling away in his toy basket (full of corks, ping pong balls and little rattly things) and he would bring you something that he wanted to play with – more often than not it would be a wine bottle cork - carried in his mouth. He loved corks; he could hold them in his mouth and they had a satisfactorily erratic trajectory when thrown or patted with a paw. Archie would play with it for a bit then bring it back, with the expectation that you would oblige by playing with him again.
And talk! I have never known such a talkative cat. He had an amazing vocabulary, from little chirrups of welcome to the usual purring and all sorts of meows, varying in sound and intensity and a ferocious growl when angry. He would also answer when called and come running with his most beautiful plume of a tail held high.
But his most endearing characteristic was when he wanted my full attention. He would actually stop me walking, by entangling himself between my feet. Once I had stopped he would move in front of me and with a special little movement of his head wait expectantly for me to make the next move which was to form a cradle with my arms close to my chest. He would then leap gracefully into my arms, sit in the ‘cradle’ and cuddle up, purring thunderously all the while. If he was feeling really affectionate he would stretch up and rub his head against my chin. Archie would do this to me even though he was more attracted to my wife and was really ‘her’ cat.
Archie was also the gentlest cat I have ever known. He never, ever, used his claws when he was with us. If for some reason he felt himself slipping from my wife’s lap or from my arms, he would just fall then jump up again. He never, ever, dug his claws in to stop himself from falling. If, when playing with him, or teasing him and he became tired of the game or irritated with my teasing, he would either pat my hand with his paw as if to say ‘that’s it – enough’ or he would hold my finger in his teeth for a moment to two, as if to say ‘if I really wanted to I could hurt you with a bite – now stop!’
He completely overshadowed his sister Bella. I use the past tense, because, even though he was a neutered tom cat, he used to travel a bit to neighbours houses and across the road. At that time we had as neighbours, in the block of town houses we live in, a group of girls who were really neighbours from hell. Anyway, one evening Archie did not come home for his dinner. I called and called but he never came.
The next morning I went to look for him and found him across the road neatly laid out in a fruit tray – dead. He was only about three years old – in his prime. Someone obviously felt enough for him to place his little body in the tray, for which I was grateful. We all missed him terribly – he was a little friend, in good times and bad. My wife was inconsolable because he used to keep her company when she rested on our bed after she came back from her dialysis. And his sister Bella seemed lost without him and refused to eat for days, in her grief for her brother. I admit that I felt his death very personally.
I have my suspicions that it was a boyfriend of one of our neighbours from hell, who always drove too quickly up our common driveway, who hit and killed Archie. If it had been someone driving on the road, they would have driven on and left him there – they certainly would not have gone to the trouble of finding a box to put him in.
So there we are. Bella, bless her little furry soul, is still with us – she is about ten years old. She is not so playful and certainly not as affectionate, nor does she talk so much and is rather an introverted little thing. But she is not Archie.
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