Democracy has left the building

Once upon a time, many countries decided to light up a new flame of their own and keep it burning bright. Every person in the country gave a bit of his light and soon, there was a huge flame that burned bright for its people. A flame that stood for energy, a flame that promised equality for all, freedom for all, security for all who lived in its light. The flame was called Democracy and it was well named because it was of the people, by the people, for the people.

The change happened very slowly and it happened in all the countries that had the flame of Democracy alight. The people who kept giving to keep the flame alight didn’t notice what was happening and as long as they felt the flame they had lit was burning, they felt secure and went about their daily business as usual.

Slowly, the shadow figures moved in, casting their long shadows of greed and hunger for power on the light that burned. The flame that had been lit by the people was slowly being controlled by a few who definitely did not have the people’s interests at heart. One day, all that was left of the flame were a few glowing embers and when it left the building, no one noticed and no one cared.

The armies grew and there were wars. For our safety, they said. To teach others about our wonderful flame, they proclaimed. And to make those wars possible, the people who had lit the flame were taxed. For your own good, they said. To keep the flame alive. All this is because we, the people want a better life for the world.

The powerful grew more powerful and richer. The poor grew poorer. The dreams that people started off with grew dim and died. There was no time for dreaming when every minute went towards existing.

Oh, my people, said the flame that was dying. Look up, listen, stand up and fight for your rights. Fight to fan the flame and make it burn bright once more. As long as there was a spark, there was hope. Maybe the few who questioned a bit too loudly were silenced but hope that its people would wake up was the only thing that kept the flame going.

Once in a while, people looked at the building and wondered if this indeed was why they had lit the flame. They didn’t realise that Democracy had left the building a long time ago. No, Democracy don’t live here anymore. Would it ever live here again?

de-moc-ra-cy: government by the people

This article was quoted extensively by Jeff Radebe at his Corruption Watch launch speech: 

(http://www.corruptionwatch.org.za/content/jeff-radebe%E2%80%99s-speech-corruption-watch-launch)

Thirukural – Couplets To Live By That Transcend Time

Over two thousand years ago, a sage from South India wrote a collection of maxims - 133 chapters, each containing ten short, forceful couplets. He wrote in the South Indian Dravidian language of Tamil and his couplets cover a gamut of topics – from the divine to the role of a husband and wife, to gambling, liquor, medicine, politics and love. While little is known about his life, his work survives and is translated into many of the world’s languages. What is incredible is that most of it is so practical that it could well be relevant today as it was way back then.

 Translated, ‘thirukural’ means sacred couplets. Each couplet has fourteen syllables and each couplet contains a thought which is stated briefly and to the point, much like a proverb or a Confucian saying. It is probably one of the very few holy texts that has survived intact till now. Written on palm leaves with a pointed instrument, these aphorisms have survived time, language evolution, kingdoms, cultures and invasions. One of the reasons could be that the ancient Tamil language has not undergone too much of change unlike other languages in which religious texts were written and which have become extinct. Tamil is still very much a ‘living’ language. The other reason could be the fact that this work rises beyond religions – it is an ethical treatise which in a short, pithy form gives us guidelines so we can live our life in this world better. While the divine is revered and worshipped, it is not the life or lives to come that assume importance but the life we live now. What also makes it acceptable to many is that it does not preach. These aren’t laws and he does not set himself up to be a prophet – all he lays out are basic principles of ethics. While he talks about God, he does not give him a name – in fact, he refers to him as ‘pure knowledge’. He talks about love and charity but does not write down a set of rules. True, it was written as a guide for the times he lived in but because it is not specific in nature, it rises beyond to the universal, its relevance surviving the passage of time. What is touched upon are core values for the human race and discounting a few instances where the guidelines are for life as it was when he lived, for the most part, it contains a roadmap for the essential, basic and permanent aspects of human life.

Who was this man? There’s hardly anything that is known about him. This is the only work he seems to have written and though there have been researchers who feel other works of literature can be attributed to him, nothing can really be proved. So, apart from this ethical treatise, what we know of him are legends. Some say he was a simple weaver who wrote this thanks to divine inspiration. There was no other way a simple workman could have written something so profound over 2000 years ago without the benefit of the education that was reserved for the richer and nobler classes. Another story says that he was a Jain prophet who went South and lived among the people there. However, the Tamil he writes and the allusions he makes seem to indicate that he was a son of the soil. Yet another story says he was a king in Kanyakumari, the southernmost tip of India and that he renounced his kingdom, much like Buddha did, to devote his time to philosophical pursuits. (I’m prejudiced as I am from this part of India so the last story is the one I like to believe in.) On the 1^st of January 2000, a 133 foot statue of Thirukural (133 feet to commemorate the 133 sections of his work) was unveiled on a small island off Kanyakumari – where the Indian Ocean meets the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal.

In the southern state of Tamilnadu, his treatise is mandatory as part of the school syllabus. Many Tamilians, especially the educated ones, revere this creed because it rises above the narrow teachings of most religions. It is an ethical code to live by and it is relevant to everyone. It’s been translated to at least 30 languages around the world and today, it’s grown beyond being a gospel for just the Tamilians. It’s simple, it’s succinct, it doesn’t preach or pontificate, it’s practical, it’s relevant and it’s universal. It’s for every man to live a better life with his fellow men.

HELP! Where Did My IP Address Go To?

I couldn’t find it. Everything around me looked so unfamiliar. I could have sworn when I turned the corner that this was the street where I lived. I have often walked down this street before and all that jazz. But I hadn’t. At least I don’t think so. The frontages of the homes looked different and the numbers on the mailboxes were unfamiliar. I ran back to the corner and on to the train station. Wasn’t this where I’d just got off? Even that had started to look different. So I sprinted at the speed of light – thank goodness this was the virtual world – and went to the next corner to see if my favourite coffee shop was still there. It had been this morning….but wait, it had changed too, Subtly, but it wasn’t the same and the number on the entrance was different. Was this some ghastly dream?

This couldn’t be happening, I thought. I wandered to the park and sat down on a bench. The light in the park seemed different, as though it were the same park but lit by another moon. Then it hit me. Was it possible that I was caught in some dreadful time warp? Had I gone into a kind of Rip Van Winkle sleep in cyberspace only to find that I came back to a different dimension? Where was my familiar address string that I was so used to?

I took a hold on myself. ‘Don’t panic!’ I told myself and retraced my footsteps to the house where I knew I’d lived. I ignored the longer-stringed digital address that glowed on my mailbox and walked in. I knew I had mail – I’d seen the red light flashing on the box. I walked into a home that was mine and yet different. It was sleeker and it looked like everything was going to work a lot faster than before. I gestured at the large all-in-one screen and it came to life with a different light.

‘Welcome to the world of IPv6’

So had I slept while they made that leap from IPv4 to IPv6? I must have!

Soon, very soon, Internet addresses as we know them will have had their day. And we have to embrace a new world and a new address virtually.

Requiem For The Apostrophe

Is the apostrophe on its way to annihilation? Will punctuation soon enter the annals of history? Is a new era of transitional grammar dawning?

Well, it looks like that’s the way the winds of change are blowing. For many, any kind of protest is just a lot of sound and fury signifying nothing. After all, what does it really matter whether something is spelt Kings or King’s? Dispense with that little tadpole like thingie once and for all and you don’t really have to worry your head about where it goes anymore. Ah, blessed relief!

For others, it’s the death knell of language as they know it. The beginning of the end, as it were. First the apostrophe, then, who knows? It could well be every punctuation mark we know. ‘Out, damn’d spot!’ would probably be the last of it as the world entered a brave new world unhampered by any kind of punctuation. For the purist, there could be no fate worse than this, never mind that some might just see it as a natural progression or evolution of language.

Well evolution is, as we speak, taking place on the streets of Birmingham and place names and road signs are going to bid a quick goodbye to the apostrophe. The Birmingham City Council feels it will be much better from the point of view of emergency services. The banishing of the apostrophe will make it easier for them to find places and not get lost. One infers from this that the apostrophe led the emergency services a merry dance through the streets of Birmingham like some Will o’ the Wisp, spreading confusion instead of clarity. If America and Australia do not put the apostrophe on place names to avoid confusion, can Birmingham be far behind?

Strangely, there are a number of professors and such erudite ilk who really don’t see anything earth shattering about this move. After all, how many really do get their apostrophes right? They should know – they correct heaps of student papers. Looked at from that angle, maybe they have a point. However, there are many others who are making a strong protest against this move, asking the Council how they can teach their students what is right and what isn’t when the city signboards are wrong? The Apostrophe Protection Society (oh, yes, there really is one!) is up in arms against what it sees as a very bad example to students.

Well, the ones who do not subscribe to this don’t see this move as either wrong or right, just expedient. Does it really matter what someone like Lynne Truss has to say – well, anyway, who is this Lynne Truss? Didn’t she write something about pandas? Expediency is the need of the hour and if one has to axe the unnecessary, the superfluous, the hangers-on, so be it. Let’s guillotine the apostrophe and get back to business as usual.

And leave it for some band to compose a song about ‘The Day The Apostrophe Died’.

The Sins Of Our Fathers

 

Am I my brother’s keeper? I’m not. If I don’t even have to be my brother’s keeper, why should I have to live in a constant state of guilt for my forefathers’ sins? Biblically, the sins of the fathers are supposed to pass down to the third and fourth generation. Look around the world today and you’ll find that the shadow cast by past sins or perceived sins is much, much longer than that.

In almost every country, there are people who bear a historical grouse – about oppression, suppression, cruelty against their forefathers. Through generations, this ferments inside till suddenly there’s a venting and all hell breaks loose. Just one little seemingly innocuous incident is enough to be the flashpoint for a blaze of emotions that can very well end in carnage.

The trouble is, there seem to be no answers in sight and maybe the time has come for both sides to sit down and let it go. It’s hard to let go of a cross your forbears bore which has been handed down with the unspoken urge to carry it on. It’s hard to let go of anger that very often you were born with. It’s hard to root out a crutch that makes you feel that all your present problems are due to something that happened generations, maybe even centuries ago.

I read a hub the other day and it touched me because it reflected the angst and pain of a group pf people. We have a similar situation in our country – only it isn’t colour but caste that is the issue. I asked myself if I really wanted to apologize for what my ancestors did and the answer is NO. Or rather, the answer would be No if I were expected to. I might do it if I were moved to but I know that the compassion that maybe I should feel would vanish in a trice if I were MADE to apologise.

Because I wasn’t there. And the person who feels the pain passed down wasn’t there either.

So what is the solution? If there is a solution. Will this impasse just get worse? It will when there are tremors in other areas. The prospect of depression, the prospect of jobs being lost, the prospect of prices rising. In times of trouble, it isn’t Mother Mary who comes to you but the spectres of times gone by, raising their ugly heads. It rarely happens in times of plenty. It almost never happens when a country is threatened from outside – an outside enemy usually makes everyone come together. It happens, like I said, in troubled times within.

The solution as I see it has to be at the grassroots or the community level. If one were to look at our politicians to fulfil this role, you couldn’t be farther from a viable solution. Politicians tend to divide and rule – that’s the way they stay in power. The only way to get people to sit together is to educate and to spread awareness. Here’s where local leaders will have to rise up for the common good.

The ideal way to get there would be a 3-point programme.

- Acknowledge

- Accept

- Address

One has to acknowledge that there were inequalities and acts of oppression and cruelty. One has to then see how that has affected the present. Once you accept it as being the cause of certain effects that are detrimental to the functioning of society and maybe even a country, it is easier to see things objectively. The next step is how to address these ills practically, logically, rationally and unemotionally.

When you don’t HAVE to feel sorry, you’ll find the barriers breaking down and the possibility of bridges being built. You’ll find the walls of political correctness crumbling and a sense of humour coming to the fore. In the old days – well actually not so long ago – comedy meant catharsis. We saw ourselves on stage or onscreen and we laughed. Today, we see any kind of humour against ourselves as personal and we’re quick to take offence. All it does is make the chasms between groups even wider. Laughing at ourselves and at others is the only way to bridge the gap. If only we learned to laugh at ourselves, we will stop feeling so sat upon and spat upon.

It has to be a concerted affair – everywhere, at all levels. The American forthcoming elections have highlighted the latent racial tensions but it’s there alright - the danger beneath. As it is all over the world in different forms. South Africa, India, the UK, Sri Lanka. It’s the same story whether it’s played out by the factions of different creeds, races, colour, caste or class. In most cases, the flames of hatred are kept alive to keep certain people in power. We need to get over this without any political interference. In the age of the Internet when a whole mass of humanity has been powered with connectivity at the click of a mouse and there’s a wave of globalisation sweeping over the world, it’s time we shook off the politics of prejudice, the acid of internalized hatred, the shackles of the past and the fear of the different. It’s a long haul but we can do it if we try and who knows - Lennon’s legendary song might well come to pass. Imagine all the people sharing all the world……..

Medicine, Men Of The Cloth And Mammon

Money was, perhaps, never meant to be a part of religion or of medicine. There was a time when physicians did not have a rate card and men of God lived on charity. Then the greenback serpent entered the idealistic worlds of both and offered them visions of great wealth and power. It was too much to expect them not to succumb. The few who didn’t were left behind and not counted.

Healing – the Body and the Soul

Both professions are supposed to be about healing – while one looks after physical wellness, the other looks after spiritual well being. Time was when these were ‘noble’ professions – when sons were offered to enter the priesthood or were given to study under physicians in order to learn and grow into these professions. Healing was god-like and that meant that you could not be earthly when it came to being compensated. So it was left to the one who was administered to – body or soul – to give what he deemed best.

When it came to religion, most priests lived by taking a portion of what was offered to the gods. This was their payment for selflessly serving the divine. They were to take only what they needed – not what they wanted – and then leave the rest to be distributed to charity. Physicians were the same. They treated the sick and the suffering and for their care and concern, they were given cash or kind – it wasn’t right for them to ask for anything.

Take the old Levite tradition for example – this tribe was the one from where the Jewish priestly class emerged – they were not given any land in the promised land. Instead all the other eleven tribes had to give them one tenth of what they got. In this way, they were allowed to do God’s work and were supported by the rest of the community.

This is very similar to the Brahmin tradition in India where the priestly class was entrusted with educating the people and running the temples. As they indulged more and more in literary pursuits, they were soon asked to advise the kings about military and other strategies – which they did very well. Very soon, power and money beckoned and the simple life was left behind.

Later, came the Christian priests and the nuns who didn’t or rather, weren’t supposed to call anything on this earth their own. They were here to serve the Lord and humanity at large. From living lives with just the bare necessities however, many of them grew to embrace a life of comfort and even luxury, wielding great power over the people who they were supposed to look after.

Take the case of the physicians or of the healers of the bodies all over the world. There was a time when it meant a life of hard work and a tremendous amount of sacrifice. It was their commitment to the well being of mankind that made them take up that particular profession. Man or beast – physicians were those selfless beings who were at everyone’s beck and call, always smiling, soothing away aches and pains and fevers and helping you get back into the wellness zone.

If we go back further in time, the witch doctors or the Druids were very much the same – their job was to cure or try their best to cure whichever patient came to them – king or pauper. More often than not, they are portrayed as living in little huts away from the main populace of a village and practicing their medicine with herbs, roots and rituals, the knowledge of which was passed down by word of mouth from generation to generation.

Enter Money

Once their eyes started lighting up at the sight of money, it was the beginning of the end. Suddenly, money was the ultimate goal, not the wellbeing of people. Once the focus shifted from the ones they had vowed to look after to themselves, the picture changed and it was the power of money that became important – not the power that their profession gave them over illness or ignorance. A J Cronin’s The Citadel is a perfect example of how money can insidiously compromise a physician’s ethics.

Is there merit in religion and medicine going back to the days of dedication and working for whatever was given? Can we really take the money factor out of what has grown to become among the most paying professions? If only we could take the money out and put the ethics back in, maybe a lot of ills in this world would get ironed out – but then again, maybe that is being too simplistic and hoping for too much. What is relevant however, is that Mammon should not have pride of place in medicine or religion.

A Few Good Spanks…

…never hurt anyone, least of all a child. And I do believe that it is infinitely better than long lectures laced with sarcasm, threats or just plain tortuous length. Now this kind of a viewpoint could be highly unpopular in an age when children’s rights have become such a matter of concern and even one harsh word could be constituted as abuse. Well, if we want to raise a generation of namby-pamby, extremely sensitive, self-centred, thoroughly obnoxious kids, that’s fine. Otherwise maybe it’s time for parents to put their foot down and fight back like they did in New Zealand recently. Fight, not for themselves and their parental rights but for their children’s sake. Maybe we need to get back to the age of spanking – here are a few guidelines that come to mind.

Kids are like pups

They understand cause-effect. They do something they shouldn’t, they get a spank, they learn to try and not do it again. Otherwise they keep getting spanked like they learn. Very much like a rolled up newspaper and a pup. Repetition brings results in both cases. Children are simple and understand simplicity when it comes to correction – so let’s not complicate matters and confuse them.

Before the anger

Spank before you get angry when you spank to correct, not as a release for your frustration. At this point, once is usually enough. Once the tipping point is reached, you are not very often logical to know when to stop – so spank way before you get there. Never, ever slap, pummel, push, pull, shove, yell or abuse. Never. And there is no excuse for any leniency where that rule is concerned.

The bottoms are best

Soft enough to feel the pain so a lesson is learned but there’s no harm caused. Remember that young children have soft bones and you could easily cause damage if you hit them any and everywhere. Never, ever pull his pants down and spank him – you can correct a child without violating his dignity.

Keep in mind that spanking is done with an open hand, never a closed fist so it smarts but does not cause damage or break the skin.

Don’t expect instant change

Many children need to be corrected many times before they change. (The pup and the newspaper, remember?) How can you expect a little child to learn instantly? Try and spank the same way every time so he knows you are in control and you mean business. Don’t let the bully in you come out where you take the day’s frustrations out on your little baby. Some children learn very quickly, some take time – this could be genetic, maybe. So if you were a slow learner when it came to correction……

Don’t torture with talk

Lecturing them is like Chinese torture. You start and you’ll be doing it the rest of your life till they’re sick and tired of you. Act, don’t talk should be every parent’s guideline. Look at it this way – if men or women did it to their spouses, they would be branded ‘nags’ or worse, mental abusers. If you need to teach children about right or wrong, good or bad, keep it short. Remember, they learn by example much more than anything else. Of course you can talk to them at length – about the wonders of the universe, the beauty of the world around, about the incredible things to be found in books, about how much you love them. Lectures stunt a child’s mind – inspire them so they are always learning with minds that are ever expanding.

They’re children, not adults

Don’t talk to them like adults, don’t treat them as adults. Children feel secure within the confines of discipline. Set the limits and correct them when they cross it. As they grow, you might want to re-look at those boundaries and limits but when you do, make sure to let them know. In short, don’t deprive them of their childhood and make them grow up too fast. And please don’t ask them to understand you or your problems or your frustrations or what you’re going through. If you need to go to a shrink, do so – don’t burden your child with anything but child-friendly things.

Spanking ’n loving

They go hand in hand – you can’t really love a child and not correct him. You can’t spank a child when there isn’t a lot of hugging, loving and caring otherwise. When you’ve got both in perfect balance – a little bit of spanking and a lot of loving - that’s perfect parenting!

Do you think it’s all right to spank a child to correct him?

Do you think it’s wrong to spank a child?

Norman Rockwell (1894 – 1978) did 322 illustrations for The Saturday Evening Post magazine covers over forty years. This one of a mother spanking her child appeared on the November 25^th edition cover way back in 1933. One wonders what the mother is reading and what she’s thinking about? To spank or not to spank? Does the book say anything about it?