Theatrum kulturystów - varia
Black^Widow - Śro 25 Maj, 2016 10:21
Gustaw Herling Grudziński w
Najkrótszym przewodniku po sobie samym ( wyd. Kraków 2000)
rozmowa zapisana w 1999 w Neapolu.
Ludzie są dziś podejrzliwi w stosunku do prawa, czy do rozmaitych machinacji sadowych. Są po prostu nieufnie usposobieni do wymiaru sprawiedliwości. Ci, którzy rządzą państwami muszą pamiętać , że prawo to nie podrzędny problem administracyjny , ale jedna z najważniejszych kwestii społecznych . Uważa się mnie za człowieka pamiętliwego i mściwego co jest nonsensem , mnie chodzi tylko oto, że po kilkudziesięciu latach systemu komunistycznego powrót do normalności musi prowadzić przez przywrócenie poczucia praworządności w społeczeństwie.
Dlatego uważam , że jeżeli na przykład komunistyczny funkcjonariusz jest odpowiedzialny za tortury w więzieniu to powinien być sądzony mimo swojego podeszłego wieku. Sąd może go odesłać do domu z powodu złego stanu zdrowia, żeby umarł we własnym łóżku a nie na pryczy więziennej, ale taki proces najpierw musi się odbyć. Chodzi o to , żeby proces był przykładem wymiaru sprawiedliwości,żeby ludziom, którzy podczas panowania komunizmu w Polsce odwykli od praworządności, przywrócić wiarę w jej sens, żeby wiedzieli, że istnieją zbrodnie i przestępstwa, który muszą być ukarane.
Tamże (na temat zła)
Dzisiaj Ci którzy popełnili zło zachowują się tak jakby nie wiedzieli o co chodzi.
"Czego chcecie? To jest moja sprawa osobista! " No więc myślę, że zło w świecie to nie jest sprawa osobista, ani ofiary, ani tego kto czyni zło. O tym temacie w mojej twórczości mówię obszernie w Rozmowach w Neapolu, 2 tomie rozmów, które przeprowadził ze mną Włodzimierz Bolecki.
bateria helska - Wto 31 Maj, 2016 00:15
Takie, hmm, jak to mówią, "wiecznie na czasie":
"Za podpalenie Reichstagu oskarżyliśmy nie Goebbelsa, lecz Thaelmanna i Dymitrowa, naszych prawdziwych wrogów, bo byłoby logiczne, gdyby go podpalili, toteż zarzut, że nie oni to zrobili, jest czysto akademickiej natury."
Cytata pochodzi z "Jak pogrzebać wampira" Borislava Pekicia.
bateria helska - Śro 15 Cze, 2016 00:43
"Kto wie, czy nie krzywdzimy Hitlera uważając, że jego wymarzonym celem nie jest harmonia świata?"
Inny francuski zbereźnik, Leautaud:
"Nieszczęśliwe Niemcy, które wywołały wojnę, tak słuszną pod niejednym względem, co się z nimi stanie, jeżeli będą zwyciężone?"
bateria helska - Sob 09 Wrz, 2017 04:47
Theodore Dalrymple, czyli Anthony Daniels, brytyjski emerytowany już psychiatra (także więzienny) i publicysta, krytyk liberalizmu i progresywizmu, pisze:
“In my study of communist societies, I came to the conclusion that the purpose of communist propaganda was not to persuade or convince, not to inform, but to humiliate; and therefore, the less it corresponded to reality the better. When people are forced to remain silent when they are being told the most obvious lies, or even worse when they are forced to repeat the lies themselves, they lose once and for all their sense of probity. To assent to obvious lies is…in some small way to become evil oneself. One’s standing to resist anything is thus eroded, and even destroyed. A society of emasculated liars is easy to control. I think if you examine political correctness, it has the same effect and is intended to.”
bateria helska - Wto 12 Wrz, 2017 23:36
|Just as it is easier to recognize ill health in someone you haven't seen for some time rather than in someone you meet daily, so a visitor coming into a society from elsewhere often can see its character more clearly than those who live in it. Every few months, doctors from countries like the Philippines and India arrive fresh from the airport to work for a year's stint at my hospital. It is fascinating to observe their evolving response to British squalor.
At the start, they are uniformly enthusiastic about the care that we unsparingly and unhesitatingly give to everyone, regardless of economic status. They themselves come from cities—Manila, Bombay, Madras—where many of the cases we see in our hospital would simply be left to die, often without succor of any kind. And they are impressed that our care extends beyond the merely medical: that no one goes without food or clothing or shelter, or even entertainment. There seems to be a public agency to deal with every conceivable problem. For a couple of weeks, they think this all represents the acme of civilization, especially when they recall the horrors at home. Poverty—as they know it— has been abolished.
Before very long, though, they start to feel a vague unease. A Filipina doctor, for example, asked me why so few people seemed grateful for what was done for them. What prompted her question was an addict who, having collapsed from an accidental overdose of heroin, was brought to our hospital. He required intensive care to revive him, with doctors and nurses tending him all night. His first words to the doctor when he suddenly regained consciousness were, "Get me a fucking roll-up" (a hand-rolled cigarette). His imperious rudeness didn't arise from mere confusion: he continued to treat the staff as if they had kidnapped him and held him in the hospital against his will to perform experiments upon him. "Get me the [ocenzurowano] out of here!" There was no acknowledgment of what had been done for him, let alone gratitude for it. If he considered that he had received any benefit from his stay at all, well, it was simply his due.
My doctors from Bombay, Madras, or Manila observe this kind of conduct open- mouthed. At first they assume that the cases they see are a statistical quirk, a kind of sampling error, and that given time they will encounter a better, more representative cross section of the population. Gradually, however, it dawns upon them that what they have seen is representative. When every benefit received is a right, there is no place for good manners, let alone for gratitude.
Case after case causes them to revise their initial favorable opinion. Before long, they have had experience of hundreds, and their view has changed entirely. Last week, for example, to the amazement of a doctor recently arrived from Madras, a woman in her late twenties entered our hospital with the most common condition that brings patients to us: a deliberate overdose. At first she would say nothing more than that she wanted to depart this world, that she had had enough of it.
I inquired further. Just before she took the overdose, her ex-boyfriend, the father of her eight-month-old youngest child (now staying with her ex-boyfriend's mother), had broken into her apartment by smashing down the front door. He wrecked the apartment's contents, broke every window, stole $110 in cash, and ripped out her telephone.
"He's very violent, doctor." She told me that he had broken her thumb, her ribs, and her jaw during the four years she was with him, and her face had needed stitching many times. "Last year I had to have the police out to him."
"I dropped the charges. His mother said he would change."
Another of her problems was that she was now five weeks pregnant and she didn't want the baby.
"I want to get rid of it, doctor."
"Who's the father?"
It was her violent ex-boyfriend, of course.
"Did he rape you, then?"
"So you agreed to have sex with him?"
"I was drunk; there was no love in it. This baby is like a bolt out of the blue: I don't know how it happened."
I asked her if she thought it was a good idea to have sex with a man who had repeatedly beaten her up, and from whom she said she wished to separate.
"It's complicated, doctor. That's the way life goes sometimes."
What had she known of this man before she took up with him? She met him in a club; he moved in at once, because he had nowhere else to stay. He had a child by another woman, neither of whom he supported. He had been in prison for burglary. He took drugs. He had never worked, except for cash on the side. Of course he never gave her any of his money, instead running up her telephone bills vertiginously.
She had never married, but had two other children. The first, a daughter aged eight, still lived with her. The father was a man whom she left because she found he was having sex with 12-year-old girls. Her second child was a son, whose father was "an idiot" with whom she had slept one night. That child, now six, lived with the "idiot," and she never saw him.
What had her experience taught her?
"I don't want to think about it. The Housing'll charge me for the damage, and I ain't got the money. I'm depressed, doctor; I'm not happy. I want to move away, to get away from him."
Later in the day, feeling a little lonely, she telephoned her ex-boyfriend, and he visited her.
I discussed the case with the doctor who had recently arrived from Madras, and who felt he had entered an insane world. Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined it could be like this. There was nothing to compare with it in Madras. He asked me what would happen next to the happy couple.
"They'll find her a new flat. They'll buy her new furniture, television, and refrigerator, because it's unacceptable poverty in this day and age to live without them. They'll charge her nothing for the damage to her old flat, because she can't pay anyway, and it wasn't she who did it. He will get away scot-free. Once she's installed in her new flat to escape from him, she'll invite him there, he'll smash it up again, and then they'll find her somewhere else to live. There is, in fact, nothing she can do that will deprive her of the state's obligation to house, feed, and entertain her."
I asked the doctor from Madras if poverty was the word he would use to describe this woman's situation. He said it was not: that her problem was that she accepted no limits to her own behavior, that she did not fear the possibility of hunger, the condemnation of her own parents or neighbors, or God. In other words, the squalor of England was not economic but spiritual, moral, and cultural.