Caliban - Opinion and Righteous Anger

Who will win the presedential election? Things seem to be leaning in the direction of the world's most accomplished terrorist, George Bush, but we may yet be surprised. Even if Kerry wins, however, it looks like W has the popular vote sewn up, whereas that boot was squarely on the other foot four years ago.

While the mantra of "4 more years" sounds more like a sentence than a cry of victory, I'm bound to ponder the fact that a vote in the US election is really just the exercising of one's right to attempt to influence the guardians and perpetuators of the status quo over the next four years.

For if Kerry gets in, will we see the US join and sanction the International Criminal Court? Will we see the death sentence repealed? Will we see the billions of dollars in military aid to Israel halted? Will we see a concerted effort to reduce America's grotesque reliance on fossil fuels?

How much would really change?

Noam Chomsky summed up the presidential choice rather well:

"In the forthcoming presidential elections in the US, there is a choice: between two candidates who were born to wealth and political power, attended the same elite university, joined the same secret society that instructs members in the style and manners of the rulers, and are able to run because they are funded by largely the same corporate powers."

Whoever you vote for, the government wins.

Theo van Gogh, Dutch film maker, television interviewer and writer, is dead, shot and stabbed as he cycled along a street in the east of Amsterdam. Not content with shooting Theo off his bike, his killer followed him as he staggered to the other side of the street, pumped several more bullets into him, then pulled out a piece of paper on which was scrawled Islamic text and stabbed it onto Theo's lifeless body.

Theo's killer, a Muslim extremist, was later shot in the leg by the police, apprehended and taken to hospital.

What the fuck is happening to The Netherlands? First Pim Fortuyn; now Theo van Gogh. This is the country I hold up as an example to others of how sane and civilised society can be; where people consider each political issue calmly and rationally; where practicality and pragmatism win the day, and reasoning clouded and confused by sexual repression, religious dogma and elitism is driven to the sidelines.

It seems that Theo, like Pim, was killed for his strong views on multicultural society and Islam. He certainly didn't mince words; that much is true.

Theo once called Dyab Abou Jah Jah, leader of the Arab European League, the prophet's pimp. He referred to the events of 11th September as initiating the rise of the 5th Column of Goat Fuckers, although it's unclear who exactly he meant here. Theo's latest book (and now his last, barring any posthumous works), published in November 2003, is called Allah Knows Best, after the poem. Our Theo had strong beliefs and expressed them with powerful language.

The obvious conclusion here is that the spectre of religious fundamentalism is rearing its head in the normally sober Netherlands. Young men, angered by US and (US sponsored) Israeli aggression towards Muslims in the Middle East and Afghanistan, are vulnerable to recruitment by radical factions. It's the same story all over the western world and we're all biting our nails over it.

There's a selfish angle to my concern, however, that stretches beyond my sadness for the loss of a great writer and film maker: it could have been I who got shot off my bike. Why? Because, like Theo, I won't shut my mouth for anyone.

I don't have a political agenda; I simply speak my mind on any subject that takes my fancy. I don't set out to piss people off, but if I do offend people, I take it in my stride, however sad it may make me.

Let's say I move back to The Netherlands next year with Sarah. Let's say we have a baby together and I take up writing for a living, eventually getting my own column in a local newspaper. Not that likely, perhaps, but not altogether unthinkable, either, right?

So then, as usual, I expound on my beliefs and opinions, as I do here in my blog; only now, my musings are reaching a wider audience via a more prestigious medium: a respected household newspaper.

Suddenly, I'm someone's enemy. Perhaps it's something insignificant, like an irate corporation, pissed off that I've exposed their plans to buy up cheap housing, so that they can demolish the buildings and erect luxury flats for rich pricks. So, a bunch of people get pissed off, but life goes on, right?

Or perhaps my name makes it onto a US government watch list, because I'm openly and unabashedly critical of the government there and go so far as to call George Bush a criminal and terrorist. So, I get some hate mail from some gun-toting loonies on the far right, offering to "kick my ass" and informing me that I'd be speaking German now if it weren't for good old Uncle Sam, and why the fuck aren't I eternally grateful, yellow-toothed European that I am? It's all sound and fury.

Next time, I turn to organised religion, especially fundamentalism, and place the blame for many of society's current ills squarely at its feet. Perhaps my views are taken to refer to some religions more than others. So, one day I'm riding my bike through the east of Amsterdam when suddenly, bang! I'm shot from the saddle. As I lie there in the gutter, choking on my own blood, I realise what has happened and fight to overcome my astonishment, so that I may resign myself to the fact that I am going to die. I hastily fill my mind with my last futile thoughts, picturing my wife and baby who I will never see again.

Scary stuff. I don't want to die; I have too much left to do. Life is precious and worth protecting. I also don't want my family to be deprived of me, arrogant wanker that I am. I don't want my future children to grow up as orphans, nor my wife to have to raise them on her own.

The thought that something similar could happen to me is powerful, because I am just one person with some opinions. My only weapon is the pen. I am a pacifist.

On the other hand, I cannot live my life in fear. A life spent cowering is a pretty miserable life, no matter what distractions one affords oneself in order to construct the illusion of contentment.

Fear is all around us. People are petrified of the consequences of their words and actions.

People are afraid to criticise their government, out of fear of being branded unpatriotic or disrespectful of their nation's troops abroad. No-one likes to be a pariah.

People are afraid to go to lunch with ex-colleagues who have an ongoing dispute with the company, afraid their employer will find out, disapprove and mete out retribution, resulting in financial loss. Financial gain wins over friendship, thanks to fear and cowardice.

European governments are afraid to stand up to American demands for cooperation and military lip service, out of fear for the economic repercussions.

People of all backgrounds are generally afraid to put their financial security and personal safety on the line. People will make endless compromises with themselves to ensure these things, unaware or uncaring of the extent to which they are subjugated and reduced to manipulable, compliant drones over which those in power can wield control.

I'm digressing wildly. Back to Theo. Is there anything positive to be observed about The Netherlands in all of this?

Well, in which other country would people assemble on the main square of the nation's capital the very same evening to vent their anger and frustration at the senseless murder of one of their own? Job Cohen, the mayor of Amsterdam, arranged the assembly and thousands of Amsterdammers took to the streets to express their outrage, sympathy, disbelief, confusion and astonishment.

Rather than observe a couple of minutes of silence, people were encouraged to scream, sound air horns, bang dustbin lids and generally create as much noise as is humanly possible. Even the drivers of Dutch trains sounded their horns at the same time. Why? Because Theo van Gogh made a lot of noise and didn't go out with a whimper. It was more appropriate to his memory to actively express one's feelings than it would have been to passively ruminate on the sadness of it all.

Several people spoke in memory of Theo; some were Dutch politicians. No-one agreed with everything Theo had stood for, but everyone defended his right to believe it and express it in print.

It's heartwarming that so much protest and public unity could be organised so quickly, even involving Dutch ministers. I don't think that would happen anywhere else and that makes me still feel good about returning home next year.

You have to stand up for what you believe in this life. If you don't, you may live a long life and accrue vast wealth in the process, but at what cost? Every compromise you make in life encourages those who hold sway over you to further marginalise you and others like you.

I'll continue to open my big mouth, even if it gets me killed. The alternative is even worse.

There's an interesting article over at Kuro5hin about how there are notable differences in the CNN and Al Jazeera translations of the latest Osama bin Laden taped speech.

Thanks to Geoff for sending in this excellent article offering insights into the mentality behind Christian America massively backing Bush in this week's election. It's an excellent read and lifts the veil on a phenomenon that is rather impenetrable for those of us with a more secular background.

Johnathan Freedland has produced a very eloquent write-up of how the Tuesday's American general election completes the Republican revolution.

He goes on to explain how people's motives for voting have exposed two entirely divergent cultures within the US. This is a very well written article and I strongly encourage you to read it.

...but the new lines have been drawn.

Greg Palast makes a compelling case for the notion. There's an lot of supposition in the article, but there's a lot of intrigue, too. It's not beyond belief.

Although I often agree with their views, I'm not normally a fan of the rather simplistic and unnuanced writing style of the Daily Mirror.

Nevertheless, it's hard to find fault with the sentiments expressed on today's front page.

The Canadians are taking pity on Americans and are now offering to marry them to get them out of the country and into a more progressive land.

From their site:

You can help. Open your heart, and your home. Marry an American. Legions of Canadians have already pledged to sacrifice their singlehood to save our southern neighbours from four more years of cowboy conservatism.

I'd offer to do my bit, too, but I've already married one and bigamy's illegal even when it's just a marriage of convenience.

Sarah and I went to see a new obstetrician a couple of days ago, as we had heard he was friendly towards people who were planning a home birth. He turned out to be very affable, indeed; Sarah and I immediately warmed to him. If a transfer to hospital is ultimately warranted by a complicated labour, we couldn't want a better Plan B to have in reserve.

The obstetrician treated us to our second ultrasound of the baby, code-named Franbert at this point for reasons that just aren't interesting. Franbert is currently -27 weeks old or, if you prefer, 13 weeks old in terms of his future mother's pregnancy. All of his limbs and internal organs are properly formed, he's now busy gaining weight, the placenta has taken over the job of nourishing him and he's now a foetus, no longer an embryo. I say he, but I have no idea as to the sex of the baby; nor do I wish to know it. I'm old-fashioned.

Anyway, Franbert was anything but a static image as the echo sounder was drawn over Sarah's belly. As Franbertje came into view, we could see him flexing his arms and kicking with his legs. The spine was apparent, as was his tiny, beating heart. A hand came into view, revealing the correct number of fingers. How real this tiny, half-baked creature seemed in this astonishing visualisation of his subterranean world. You'd think there was a disco going on in there, the way he was flailing around.

We came away with a few print-outs of our little half-chewed toffee. As happy as I am to be afforded an early glimpse of my baby, it's hard to convey to those around me the profound feeling of love and attachment with which this fills me. The last thing I want is to become one of those obnoxious, cooing people who blather on about their beautiful baby and how wonderful parenthood is. Don't you hate those people? Of course, you do.

150 beats a minute was his pulse measurement, which is exactly as it should be at this stage. A size measurement was taken, too, which estimated the duration of pregnancy at 12 weeks and 6 days. This amazed me, as it was absolutely spot on. Ain't technology clever?

I've put out a series of patches to ruby-ldap 0.8.3 to allow the easy use of controls. Controls take advantage of the extensible nature of LDAPv3 to provide functionality not part of the original protocol specification.

Specifically, I had a need at work to use the Paged Results control, described in RFC2696. ruby-ldap 0.8.3 allows the client to set controls at the search level via LDAP::Conn#searchext and LDAP::Conn#searchext2, but it has no way to return controls sent by the server to the client as a side-effect of the search. Furthermore, I wanted to be able to set controls at the session level and have those be effective during LDAP::Conn#search and LDAP::Conn#search2, which are methods I use much more frequently.

Anyway, if you need to use LDAP controls from Ruby (and let's face it, who doesn't?), this if for you.

Sarah and I spent a weekend with her folks in New Hampshire back in September. I've finally put up the photos from this trip.