A Day of Victory: Whose Victory Is It Anyway?

I've pondered on war and the consequences of violent conflict since we started hearing of the escalating violence in Syria. Yet, I considered writing about war and violence in earnest since in Malta, we celebrate Victory Day today, the 8th September.

Of course, September 8 also marks an important feast on the Catholic calendar as it's the commemoration of the birth of the Virgin Mary which is still a significant figure for a large number of Maltese citizens who tend to identify themselves as Catholic - even if they may not practice the faith. However, it's also a national holiday since two important events crucial to the history of Malta happened on that fateful 8th September.

The first event occurred in 1565 when Malta, then under the rule of the Holy Order of the Knights of Saint John, who with the help of the inhabitants managed to force a retreat of the forces coming from what was then an expanding Ottoman Empire. Apart from preserving the Christian religious identity many Maltese had adopted back then, historians have argued that if the Ottoman Empire had captured Malta as it had Rhodes, the whole of Christian Europe of the time would have been under threat.

The second victory happened in 1943 when Malta was saved from sure famine as convoys with essential food and supplies got to Malta thanks to the surrender of Italy. At the time, Malta was, once again, under foreign rule. This time, our country was a British colony.

If one thinks about it, none of these conflicts were initiated by the Maltese inhabitants themselves. One was taken up by the Knights of Saint John and, the other, by the British Empire. Granted, our descendants had it in their interest to protect their land and the limited resources they had from imposing powers and the intervention of our colonisers has, undoubtedly, saved us from certain invasion.

It’s also worth noting that our former “enemies" don’t exist as such any more. Italy is no longer fascist. The Ottoman Empire has disappeared. The same can be said about our past colonisers. Britain is no longer a great empire, even if it preserves some of its former aspirations, in a way, through the Commonwealth. As for the Knights of Saint John, it has no land of its own and only functions today more like a philanthropic organisation.

It can be argued that these victories ensured that Malta became the country it is today. Yet, these victories may be said to be victories for Malta but not necessarily belonging to the “Maltese” inhabitants. At the same time, those we had so vilified in the past are no longer our “enemies”. In fact, descendants of the old colonisers now join us in Europe and are our partners as well.

Unfortunately, some may celebrate Victory Day for the wrong reasons. Indeed, some appear to rejoice in Malta having slaughtered the invading soldiers of the Ottoman Empire or, else, celebrate the many deaths sustained by the fascist Italian forces and their humiliating defeat..

True, we may find the values that our “enemies” held , inconsistent to our own principles and ideals or even find them morally deplorable. However, we must not lose sight that beyond the "monstrosities" we project upon our "enemy", there are still human beings just like us. Besides, each side in the conflictt lost lives.

And many times, it is the younger generations who suffer the most in bloody conflicts since they are the strongest and usually the healthier people of a population and end up fighting the battles of others. Here, it's important to ask ourselves why? Why all this loss of life? One sure thing is that all this happens again and again. It is happening again right now in Syria and wherever there is violent conflicts taking place.

Granted, there may be various reasons for war. However, all may be rooted in a failure of communication. A failure to see other human beings as being our brothers and sisters. Clinging to power and control because we desire more. We become unresponsive to the pain of other humans because, in our mind, they cease to be human but become symbols of beliefs we despise. Violence and war becomes our only response to people we feel we lost control over.

In this sense, I find it a bit confusing to speak of victory on “Victory Day”. Yes, it’s a day when we remember all those who have died and whom made it possible for Malta and the Maltese to be what they are today. Yet, it shouldn’t be a manifestation in which we express our pride for having killed off invaders. Rather, it should be an occasion to remember all those who perished because they believed that they were fighting for a good cause - even if they might have been blindly following their leaders and superiors. Even if they might have been unaware of the ulterior or perverse motives of those who should be leading them.

On both occasions, Malta’s inhabitants where only trying to defend their land. Indeed, being an island, it was the only piece of rock they had. On the other hand, it must be said that both the Knights of Saint John during the Great Siege and the British during the war, protected Malta mainly due its location in the Mediterranean between Southern Europe and North Africa since it offers both powers with an ideal strategic position to conduct military operations against their enemies at that time. Strictly speaking, their effort to protect Malta wasn't an act performed out of any altruism or motivated by a genuine concern for the inhabitants. In fact, to the British of the time, Maltese people remained natives and naturally inferior to the English.

In truth, the divisions both us and the colonisers might have set remain creations of our minds and of the societies of our time. In fact,as history changed, we realise how meaningless many of the national values we believed in back then. And, except for a number of extremist and xenophobes, we don't don't explicitly believe that there are inferior and superior peoples.

But what does all this have to do with Syria?

We have a civil war escalating in Syria. Again, we witness a struggle of powers whom have defined one another in one of two main camps. Those who support the regime and those who want it destroyed. Some minorities find themselves excluded from both and threatened by an uncertain future. Battling parties are all competing for power and control. Some because they are being unjustly persecuted, others because they want to cling to power. Others even support one side over the other simply because they are seeking their own interests or justly fear that change might destroy them and deprive them of their freedom.

This is human nature. Everyone seeks to survive or gain advantage because they fail to acknowledge a common humanity. Even if war and violent action may be justified when parties persist in destroying the innocent and put lives at risk, it should be only the last resort and it should be moderate. I suspect that the path of war and violence appears to be favoured by Western powers depending on their affiliations with Syria in this case. So, it’s disheartening to hear that the US is close to undertake military action against the Syrian regime. However, I fear that this might cause greater waste of life and enforce divisions between the Syrian people - who will be the ones losing out in each case. Yet non-action would be equally devastating and unacceptable. That’s clear.

Yet, has the world took time to explore whether there are possibilities of peace and dialogue. Have we thought of ways of bringing justice to Syria by holding the perpetrators of violence accountable to their actions and intervening with a motivation to foster peace and not violence.

In this I join in the appeals of both HH Pope Francis and of his HH the 14th Dalai Lama in their call for the world to seek peace rather than war.

In war, there are no victors but what remains are broken families who lost loved ones. What remains is a taste of resentment that outlives any war.

What remains is suffering. Suffering that we create ourselves.

Violent action rarely achieves its objectives. It might bring about more immediate results, but it doesn't address the real root of the problem but only treats its symptoms.

I recall the saying that history is written by the victors as I conclude reflecting on victory day and on the events taking place in Syria. We may rejoice at the fact that Malta hasn't fallen to our past "enemies". Indeed, some attribute our survival during the Great Siege and World War II to the direct intervention of the Virgin Mary since, as I explained earlier, the 8th September is the feast of her nativity. However, while it may be pointless to speculate whether Malta would have been worse off if we had fallen to our past "enemies". But, I am sure that if history had turned out differently and Malta became Malta Arabia or Malta Fascista, I'm sure that there would be celebrations going on of a different kind. And I wouldn't be who I am today if I would have been ever been born in such a parallel Earth. Yet, I am here today and, thus, I have to carry my own responsibilities and do the little I can to make the world a better one than when I found it.

Granted, we have little or no power to change the world on our own.

Yet, we cannot afford not to care while thousands of people around the world, human beings like us, are suffering unnecessary suffering because they fail to appreciate the fact that they depend on one another and no one can claim to be better than the other.

I hope in peace - even if I know war is looming.

I still believe there’s a place for dialogue - even if the world seems to have drawn its own conclusions.

I believe that the only victory is a victory over the enemy within that seeks to fill us with vain pride that forces us to crush our fellow brothers and sisters.

Remembering the fallen is good, yes, but clinging to what we think we are is but a harmful attachment.

May there be peace in Syria and around the world.

May no more people die in vain.

May today be a better day. For our tomorrow depends on it!

ZoneMind: A Day of Shame - Identity, Indifference & Humanity (Full Series)

Part 1: Hollow Identities?

> ORIGINAL SOURCE

This July was a time I felt that I had to re-evaluate who I was and to reflect on my position on this Earth and wonder once again on where I belonged. I decided to leave FaceBookas I was growing concerned that, in spite of all the good things it offered me, I found myself too dependent on it and sometimes felt I had to project an identity that pleased the public which I felt more and more to be somewhat oppressive, encouraging a culture of impulsive reactions which didn’t promote finding time for reflection or cultivate personal growth. I felt that sometimes I had to hold back too much parts of who I was and perhaps the reason I finally left was to be found in my past.

Yes, there was another reason I decided to leave. Perhaps I realised that being on FaceBook was my way of validating who I was because I still felt like an outsider. I still felt without acknowledging it, that I wanted to be accepted and taken for who I was or what I believed in. But, then, I always ran the risk of posting something for the sake of it. I might have felt that the media had once robbed me of my right to claim an identity as an individual when I was still a child. And, yes, while I thought I got over it, the scars in my mind were still there and still bleeding.

Indeed, I found that the painful memories I had when I was still a disabled boy were still there hidden in my mind. I realised that these ‘demons’ of the past which I thought I conquered were still acting in the background. I cannot say that this was a positive experience. It was not. I made that clear in my entry and recording found on a recent post entitled “Is Virtue Its Own Reward”. For, even if it was a difficult time in my childhood, I admit that it also taught me about myself and about how society viewed me.

Many times, we often judge things in terms of good or bad.

However, life is more of an experience that is in-between.

And there are many experiences in my life which may be judged as bad or terrible. The fact is that while our experiences may be a source of pain and anger, sometimes they are inevitable and necessary to learn and grow up. When I could still walk, I remember that there were many times I fell from my bicycle when I was first learning how to ride a bike. But, eventually, I had mastered the skill of riding a bike. Yes, I know that today I won’t be able to write a regular bike at least but I did benefit from learning that skill the time I could do it.

In the same way, the pain I felt as a disabled child when I realised that to the world I was just a one-dimensional boy ‘afflicted’ by impairment and a ‘burden’ and ‘sacrifice’ to society and to my best friend was when I lost my balance on the ‘bicycle’ of life and face the fact that no matter who I was or what I did, I will also risk being judge by my impairments.

From that day on, I felt I could relate to the countless times I found myself ill-at-ease when I listened to so-called grown ups making fun of people who were different than them, whether they were of a different faith, whether they were black, whether they were women or whether they were gay.

Unfortunately, I do confess that at times I did join in to make some witty remark but, I found that I preferred to remain silent when the words I heard felt wrong and unkind. But my silence was not that better. I didn’t know I had a choice. However, the experiences I had when I realised that for society I was to be an outsider with people arrogantly thinking that they can tell my story and distort my life to the extent it sounded more like melodrama.

I just wasn’t that boy they had constructed out of their assumptions and misconceptions.

It was from then on that I must have started realising I was an outsider. Society wasn’t interested in who I really was, it preferred to create n image for the sake of increasing sales and popularity. I was like a Joseph Merrick whose physical differences were the main reason he drew the interest of the people of his time.

 

Part 2: an Indifferent Ignorance

 > ORIGINAL SOURCE  

 

I felt that I could relate to my earlier discomfort when I heard people saying things about individuals they never met or didn’t intend to mix with. As I read about the struggle of black Americans in the US for civil rights, I felt that Martin Luther King Junior was also talking about an experience not dissimilar to my own.

As I read about Gandhi’s protests against the British colonisers, I felt that, in some way, I was colonised by a non-disabled ideology that placed people like me who had an impairment amongst the lowest classes of society, sustaining the belief that impairment was an inevitable reality and that I must accept my burden and not expect to be an equal. Of course, it would be much later in my 20s that I would be introduced to the idea of the social model of disability that appeared to given me a voice and the words to articulate my experiences.

For, like racism, sexism, homophobia or any other forms of intolerance that existed about people who may be different than us, The fact I had an impairment wasn’t the problem in itself. 

Indeed, one major problem was the attitude people had about impairment which was often seen to define my whole identity - even erasing any other aspects of my humanity.

However, unlike other forms of discrimination, society has also proved to reject my body whenever I was denied access to places or to resources simply because my body didn’t conform to the imaginary ‘norm’. Despite this fact, attitude played an important role on my feeling of being an outsider.

Like the black men and women in 50s America, I didn’t have equal rights in so many areas. Like the colonised Indian, what I owned and my history was always inferior to that of the unreal norm. Like the

African, to the West, I had no history and my impairment remained a curse or the effect of nature gone wrong.  Thus, my mind

and body appeared to be a defiance to the Graeco-Roman ideals of perfection. The only means that we all have to relate with the world suddenly seemed to have been imbued with features and characteristics that were never there but were only created by our limiting minds. 

This is why I felt I was an outsider as a boy. This is why I feel like an outsider sometimes even  today. 

I felt the need to speak about the injustices that I witnessed this week in an episode entitled Lives Should Never Be Used As Meanswhich I posted on my podcast channel . The inhumanity in the government’s attempt to deport a group of Somali migrants back to Libya. While Malta has limited resources to provide shelter to more migrants, I felt that this attempt at sending a message to the EU that Malta needed more support was morally deplorable on so many levels. For, given that Libya remains unstable and that the detention centres at Libya offer very poor human conditions while guards there don’t seem to have any respect for human rights,, 

if our government hadn’t been stopped, these immigrants would have certainly suffered torture, rape and death. And I don’t like to call them ‘immigrants’ but language is often constraining. They are, first and foremost, people - men, women and children. They are my brothers and sisters. They all have their own identities, likes and dislikes. They feel the same feelings and emotions that I feel. Like them, I can get sick and I will die. We share the world with each other.

Part 3: Humanity Denied!

> ORIGINAL  SOURCE

Before starting this last entry, I wish to share a few verses inspired from  the words that are attributed toMartin Niemöller as I can see the danger in arguments and action that seem to imply that our human rights can be negotiated or, worse, put to the majority vote. I am painfully aware that, as a disabled person, many (if not all) of the rights I and other disabled people, would have prevailed and it's only because of some pioneers that made sure our rights should be legally recognised that we can say that we have more opportunities today - even if there's more to be done to gain real equality for disabled people. But I digress, so here are the adapted version of  Martin Niemöller's speech foe our local reality as I am currently perceiving it:: 

Now, they were coming for the migrants,

And we said nothing...

Then they came for those who were Muslims...

And we said nothing.

Then they robbed once who identified themselves as LGBT of their rights...

And we said nothing...

Then they attacked the environmentalists...

And as nature was dying...

Our mouths were still shut...

They would also make ones protecting human rights of minorities and other discriminated social groups appear to be unpatriotic...

And we still said nothing.

Then, when they came after us...

Well, no one was  there to defend us!

I don’t want to sound too pessimistic but unless we don't speak together against injustice perpetrated on others, we have lost our claim to our own rights. Unless we come together and really together on issues concerning human rights, then all expressions of solidarity and talks social inclusion remain simply empty rhetoric. When people in my own country forget their humanity, these people seeking refuge become a group of people robbed of an identity. At the same time, we choose to impose our own prejudice and assumptions on them turning them to monsters and even savages. When we look at them, there is a danger that we project our own fears onto them.Perhaps we fear of losing our own identity. Rejecting them would mean that we cling to the delusion that we’re far better than them or more ‘civilised’ than them. We might have believed that they were poor people suffering from famine and starvation. We might still have an image of those children with swollen stomachs. We might have pitied them. We might have thought of Africans as savages without a history or tradition. Like the Africans of that distorted Africa found in, for example, Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.

In many ways, I feel that I must speak up against any attempt to reduce the rights of these people we call immigrants. I feel that I am also an outsider. In spite of any nice things said about disabled people, there are still many who harbour deep inside a certain resentment and fear of becoming like us - which is likely to happen as they age. I am, like the immigrant, an outsider - the other. And being the ‘other’ makes me a threat to the social order. For, in fully accepting me and people who are different, society would have to face the reality that we are more like each other than we are different. And while our differences matter, they are not fundamental to who we are. The day when we even considered sending people back to most certain torture, humiliation and death can’t be ever justified.

It was a day of shame for us and for Malta when we were close to to remain indifferent to our fellow human beings for the sake of making a political point.

While we may come to be forgiven for these actions, I believe we must make sure that we don’t forget. Even if the public has a short memory and the media is always looking for the next controversy, we can’t afford to forget. For forgetting would mean that next time we may actually have blood on our hands.

To end this long entry, I wish to express my last thoughts in the Japanese haiku form:

Yes, we must forgive...

But I refuse to forget...

This moment of shame.

End of series!

ABOUT THIS ENTRY

 This series originally appeared as a three-part series of entries published on my blogZoneMind between July 12 and July 14., 2013. This version has been slightly edited. If you enjoyed this entry, you can follow some of my activity on Twitter@gordonGT. 

> Feel free to share this post but kindly attribute this source;.

A Day of Shame: Identity, Indifference and Humanity - Part 3

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

 

Part 3: Humanity Denied!

Before starting this last entry, I wish to share a few verses inspired from the words that are attributed to Martin Niemöller as I can see the danger in arguments and action that seem to imply that our human rights can be negotiated or, worse, put to the majority vote. I am painfully aware that, as a disabled person, many (if not all) of the rights I and other disabled people, would have prevailed and it's only because of some pioneers that made sure our rights should be legally recognised that we can say that we have more opportunities today - even if there's more to be done to gain real equality for disabled people. But I digress, so here are the adapted version of Martin Niemöller's speech foe our local reality as I am currently perceiving it::

 

Now, they were coming for the migrants,

And we said nothing...


Then they came for those who were Muslims...

And we said nothing.

Then they robbed once who identified themselves as LGBT of their rights...

And we said nothing...

Then they attacked the environmentalists...

And as nature was dying...

Our mouths were still shut...

They would also make ones protecting human rights of minorities and other discriminated groups appear to be unpatriotic...

And we still said nothing.

Then, when they came after us...

No one was  there to defend us!

I don’t want to sound too pessimistic but unless we don't speak together against injustice perpetrated on others, we have lost our claim to our own rights. Unless we come together and really together on issues concerning human rights, then all expressions of solidarity and talks social inclusion remain simply empty rhetoric.

When people in my own country forget their humanity, these people seeking refuge become a group of people robbed of an identity. At the same time, we choose to impose our own prejudice and assumptions on them turning them to monsters and even savages. When we look at them, there is a danger that we project our own fears onto them.

Perhaps we fear of losing our own identity. Rejecting them would mean that we cling to the delusion that we’re far better than them or more ‘civilised’ than them. We might have believed that they were poor people suffering from famine and starvation. We might still have an image of those children with swollen stomachs. We might have pitied them. We might have thought of Africans as savages without a history or tradition. Like the Africans of that distorted Africa found in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.

In many ways, I feel that I must speak up against any attempt to reduce the rights of these people we call immigrants. I feel that I am also an outsider. In spite of any nice things said about disabled people, there are still many who harbour deep inside a certain resentment and fear of becoming like us - which is likely to happen as they age. I am, like the immigrant, an outsider - the other. And being the ‘other’ makes me a threat to the social order. For, in fully accepting me and people who are different, society would have to face the reality that we are more like each other than we are different. And while our differences matter, they are not fundamental to who we are. The day when we even considered sending people back to most certain torture, humiliation and death can’t be ever justified.

It was a day of shame for us and for Malta when we were close to to remain indifferent to our fellow human beings for the sake of making a political point.

While we may come to be forgiven for these actions, I believe we must make sure that we don’t forget. Even if the public has a short memory and the media is always looking for the next controversy, we can’t afford to forget. For forgetting would mean that next time we may actually have blood on our hands.

My last thoughts in haiku:

Yes, we must forgive...

But I refuse to forget...

This moment of shame.

End of series!

READ THE WHOLE SERIES:
PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

A Day of Shame: Identity, Indifference and Humanity - Part 2

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 1 - PART 2 - PART 

Part 2: an Indifferent Ignorance 

I felt that I could relate to my earlier discomfort when I heard people saying things about individuals they never met or didn’t intend to mix with. As I read about the struggle of black Americans in the US for civil rights, I felt that Martin Luther King Junior was also talking about an experience not dissimilar to my own.

 

As I read about Gandhi’s protests against the British colonisers, I felt that, in some way, I was colonised by a non-disabled ideology that placed people like me who had an impairment amongst the lowest classes of society, sustaining the belief that impairment was an inevitable reality and that I must accept my burden and not expect to be an equal. Of course, it would be much later in my 20s that I would be introduced to the idea of the social model of disability that appeared to given me a voice and the words to articulate my experiences.

For, like racism, sexism, homophobia or any other forms of intolerance that existed about people who may be different than us, The fact I had an impairment wasn’t the problem in itself. Indeed, one major problem was the attitude people had about impairment which was often seen to define my whole identity - even erasing any other aspects of my humanity. However, unlike other forms of discrimination, society has also proved to reject my body whenever I was denied access to places or to resources simply because my body didn’t conform to the imaginary ‘norm’. Despite this fact, attitude played an important role on my feeling of being an outsider. Like the black men and women in 50s America, I didn’t have equal rights in so many areas. Like the colonised Indian, what I owned and my history was always inferior to that of the unreal norm. I was and still feel an outsider.

This is why I felt the need to speak about the injustices that I witnessed this week in an episode entitled Lives Should Never Be Used As Means which I posted on my podcast channel . The inhumanity in the government’s attempt to deport a group of Somali migrants back to Libya. While Malta has limited resources to provide shelter to more migrants, I felt that this attempt at sending a message to the EU that Malta needed more support was morally deplorable on so many levels. For, given that Libya remains unstable and that the detention centres at Libya offer very poor human conditions while guards there don’t seem to have any respect for human rights,, if our government hadn’t been stopped, these immigrants would have certainly suffered torture, rape and death. And I don’t like to call them ‘immigrants’ but language is often constraining. They are, first and foremost, people - men, women and children. They are my brothers and sisters. They all have their own identities, likes and dislikes. They feel the same feelings and emotions that I feel. Like them, I can get sick and I will die. We share the world with each other.

CONTINUED…

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

A Day of Shame: Identity, Indifference and Humanity - Part 1

Part 1: Hollow Identities?

This July was a time I felt that I had to re-evaluate who I was and to reflect on my position on this Earth and wonder once again on where I belonged. I decided to leave FaceBook as I was growing concerned that, in spite of all the good things it offered me, I found myself too dependent on it and sometimes felt I had to project an identity that pleased the public which I felt more and more to be somewhat oppressive, encouraging a culture of impulsive reactions which didn’t promote finding time for reflection or cultivate personal growth. I felt that sometimes I had to hold back too much parts of who I was and perhaps the reason I finally left was to be found in my past.

Yes, there was another reason I decided to leave. Perhaps I realised that being on FaceBook was my way of validating who I was because I still felt like an outsider. I still felt without acknowledging it, that I wanted to be accepted and taken for who I was or what I believed in. But, then, I always ran the risk of posting something for the sake of it. I might have felt that the media had once robbed me of my right to claim an identity as an individual when I was still a child. And, yes, while I thought I got over it, the scars in my mind were still there and still bleeding.

Indeed, I found that the painful memories I had when I was still a disabled boy were still there hidden in my mind. I realised that these ‘demons’ of the past which I thought I conquered were still acting in the background. I cannot say that this was a positive experience. It was not. I made that clear in my entry and recording found on a recent post entitled “Is Virtue Its Own Reward”. For, even if it was a difficult time in my childhood, I admit that it also taught me about myself and about how society viewed me.

Many times, we often judge things in terms of good or bad.

However, life is more of an experience that is in-between. And there are many experiences in my life which may be judged as bad or terrible. The fact is that while our experiences may be a source of pain and anger, sometimes they are inevitable and necessary to learn and grow up. When I could still walk, I remember that there were many times I fell from my bicycle when I was first learning how to ride a bike. But, eventually, I had mastered the skill of riding a bike. Yes, I know that today I won’t be able to write a regular bike at least but I did benefit from learning that skill the time I could do it.

In the same way, the pain I felt as a disabled child when I realised that to the world I was just a one-dimensional boy ‘afflicted’ by impairment and a ‘burden’ and ‘sacrifice’ to society and to my best friend was when I lost my balance on the ‘bicycle’ of life and face the fact that no matter who I was or what I did, I will also risk being judge by my impairments.

From that day on, I felt I could relate to the countless times I found myself ill-at-ease when I listened to so-called grown ups making fun of people who were different than them, whether they were of a different faith, whether they were black, whether they were women or whether they were gay.

Unfortunately, I do confess that at times I did join in to make some witty remark but, at times, I remained silent. But my silence was not that better. I didn’t know I had a choice. However, the experiences I had when I realised that for society I was to be an outsider with people arrogantly thinking that they can tell my story and distort my life to the extent it sounded more like melodrama.

I just wasn’t that boy they had constructed out of their assumptions and misconceptions.

It was from then on that I must have started realising I was an outsider. Society wasn’t interested in who I really was, it preferred to create an image for the sake of increasing sales and popularity. I was like a Joseph Merrick whose physical differences were the only reason he drew the interest of the people of his time.

CONTINUED…

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

The Day of Reflection

To begin….

Over here in Malta, we’ll be having the elections tomorrow - the 9th March 2013. An event that normally happens every five years. It’s a time when we will have a chance to have a say in the running of our country. Yet, we often take the democratic process we have today too much. For granted. We don’t realise that the vote and the democratic process may be the best form of political system we have. And, even then, we may not know that the democracy we have today isn’t like that of ancient Greece, were only the rich and privileged had a vote. Or, the ‘democracy’ were only men of a certain class were allowed to vote while more than half of the population, women, were excluded. Their vote didn’t count.

Today was also a day of reflection. A day when all political expression in the media or for public consumption is, technically, illegal. But, how many of us actually appreciate the right to vote we have in our democracies? How much do politicians are really interested in the betterment of society, or are they more interested in gaining our vote for the sake of power? I will not be tackling the second question because I leave it to you to judge on your own the political merits of respective candidates. However, before this day is over, I wanted to share a few thoughts and reflections, together from some quotes which have helped me believe that, while I’m still denied the right to vote in secret, I have the right to vote. And, while alone I will not bring about a revolution, I can make a difference. But I cannot make that difference on my own.

Questions, Quotes, etc.

Do I really appreciate the right I have to vote?

Do I believe that I can express my anger and frustration by simply voting because of personal interests or motivations?

Can I afford NOT to vote and forfeit my right to vote?

But, then, is the vote just a right or a duty I have to my society?

Would I, by wasting or abusing my right to vote also going against what I believe in?

“It is the duty of every citizen according to his best capacities to give validity to his convictions in political affairs.”  Albert Einstein

What about truth?

Have I really thought over my decision in voting?

Did what I heard in political speeches and debates faithful to the truth?


M I ready to follow a leader just because I have learned not to question?

Does the leader talk a lot about himself and not about how he’ll make our society better?

Have I bothered to go beyond what parties are telling me and dared to ask the right questions?

Am I following the party just because I feel a sense of belonging or because I sincerely think that the party is in tune with the values it purports to hold?

Do I honestly believe that as long as I’m comfortable after the elections,I don’t care about the rest?

Aren’t we all dependent on each other in our society? Or in our lives?

Aren’t other people’s losses but my own?

Am I prepared to do the right thing, even if it might hurt at first?

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

How?

how did the respective parties tackled issues facing minorities or excluded groups?

How did they deal with people of different opinions, faith or belief?

Do they believe that the majority should decide on human rights and that human beings don’t have a right to dignity and respect they deserve without needing to justify their life?

Finally...

Has the political rhetoric intoxicate our minds and hearts as to forget that we share a common humanity and inasmuch as we hold our political beliefs, we remain subject to the same pains and pleasures this life has to offer.

We live in a society made up of individuals. Yet neither can society impose itself on the individual nor the individual can exist without a society. That’s why I chose to right this entry on this day of reflection. Not because I’m not a bit anxious about voting tomorrow and its possible aftermath. But I wanted to reassure myself that whatever I vote tomorrow, I hope to vote with a clear mind and be true to my beliefs and convictions.

I may be unhappy with the result if it doesn’t follow on my choices. But, if anything, I will sleep on Saturday night with a peaceful conscience because I know that I did what I could. I was true to my own self.

Nobody knows what the future will be like. Perhaps I’ll discover that there open new possibilities that I was never aware of. The truth I believe in fills me with the will to live on. I want a society that is equal, just and more compassionate. I can’t expect that all all these aspirations will be achieved if I don’t play my part. However, I cannot deny that Malta has progressed a lot in all these areas. Granted, there’s still things to be done. But, come what may, we all need to continue working together. I end this entry by another two quotes that helped me to restore a certain hope in the future ahead. As for me, there’s not much to add. Just to remember to vote with a clear mind and a compassionate heart.

And remember:

“whether your cause has many or few adherents, truth will still prevail.” HH the 14th Dalai Lama

Or, if you feel you have failed in your cause, remember the words of Gandhi:

“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it--always.” Mohandas K.  Gandhi