In Responsum.

What is the true meaning of 'hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil'? -  Quora
Hear, see, speak, show no evil..

There seems to be a lot of accusations from that coterie of hem-huggers to the cloth of left-wing radicalism that accuse some of being little more than attention-seekers on the pages of some so-called “Progressive” blogs. This reply is NOT to those I mention above as I have grave doubts they will even have the nous to comprehend the points I make…but since ANY mud thrown has an adhering quality on social media particularly when the individual is denied, by blocking from the site, the right to confront his false accusers, I give cause for my confrontational attitude to the attention of the more discerning readers that will take time to reason out such a cause.

Let us start…:

A while back, in response to a Dr.Georgio Venturini’s article ; “Beyond the Palace Letters” on the AIMN blog ..;  https://theaimn.com/beyond-the-palace-letters/  , I posted a comment drawing attention to what I saw as a familiarity to his intent to analyse the historical development of Australian Politics to what I saw as a connection..in principle…to an old Roman drinking game called in modern parlance: “Passatella”…known in latter-day Southern Italy as : “The Law”. This is not some ordinary “game” as we understand games with either card or dice….but it is socio/political game played out with the cruellest of intentions over the café table…It has a benign “face” but a malevolent underpinning of structure that understands and makes use of the lingering hatred and enemies of the individual players…here..:

“Passatella – Italy

Called ‘sadistic’ by some, this Southern Italian drinking game has its roots in the traditions of the convivium, but it’s quite different, with far different consequences for ‘losing.’ The game was played (or at times banned) throughout Italy for centuries. Passatella has many variations so we’ll stick to the basics:

  • Eight to ten men would pitch in to buy drinks to be shared by all.
  • A game, such as bocce, dice, cards, or morra (see below) was played to determine a padrone (the boss) and a sotto-padrone (the underboss).
  • A round of drinks was ordered.
  • The padrone drank the first glass, in a single gulp, and then offered the second glass to his sotto-padrone, who did the same.
  • The padrone then began offering cups to the other men in the group, each of whom would have to ask the sotto-padrone for permission to drink. If granted, that man drank the cup, again, in a single gulp. This process typically involved insult-laden speeches explaining why or why not a given man was being offered (and granted or denied) a drink

This would go on until the round was finished. A new game would be played to determine the next round’s padrone and sotto-padrone until everyone was good and drunk or a bit of violence broke out. As you can imagine, if the padrone and sotto-padrone weren’t equitable in doling out drinks, as some men got drunk, and others suffered through the rounds soberly, the insults and reactions could escalate. As the rounds went on, if certain men kept being denied (drinks for which they chipped in money!), well, that’s when the game turned ‘sadistic’ if common folklore is to be believed. Vengeance is said to have often involved knifings, which, given the game’s not-so-subtle allusions to the Mafia, isn’t entirely unbelievable.” ( https://vinepair.com/wine-blog/learn-6-historical-drinking-games/ )

The reason I included mention of this “game” was because it perfectly describes the passive/aggressive nature of Australian politics and as far as I am concerned, who controls left-wing debate on social media. Where those who hold the power to grant hearing via condescension and/or privilege to those they favour and to “set the dogs onto” those they do not, is a regular feature with the MSM and on some “left-wing” blog sites. I know, for I have travelled this route many times.

This call to now having to justify a position on many posts is not a new thing to many of us…It first started for me back almost five years ago when I published a “light-hearted” post calling for a : https://freefall852.wordpress.com/2016/04/26/a-revolution-against-the-middle-classes/ …I posted that piece on another pseudo “Leftish’ blog (“The Pub”)…and I was immediately attacked by those moderators and “favoured hem-huggers” on the site for daring to attack that class that they claimed was a fully represented majority on that very site!…For daring to critique them and that class, I was “sent to Coventry” ie ; blocked by the gatekeepers of refined blogging!…many of us on the far-left have experienced this vindictiveness.

At this point I have to here humbly but proudly make claim that…I hold an unenviable position of being..of late..now VERY LATE!..one of the most left-wing radical posters on those blogs..my many articles and stories leaning more heavily to the left of Chairman Mao than seeking the comfortable centre…There is a reason for this.

There is now resident within the left of politics a cabal of succubus/incubus of middle-class placaters who rather than radicalise politics, seek to control the conversations through a false doctrine of “calming reasoning” and “soft-cock placating” of the voice of protest….another post I placed in my own protest of this creeping virus…: https://freefall852.wordpress.com/2018/03/20/just-who-controls-the-conversation-of-left-wing-politics/  ..it was this post that sealed my fate with those “finishing-school radicals” and they set the dogs of those blogs onto me…and like the above game of Passatella, the main controllers make certain they do not get their “hands dirty”, but let their lieutenants snarl and gnash their teeth.

This “just peachy” attitude to politics has given strength to the right-wing media to lay the  claim via covert agents that there is little or “no difference” between the major parties..and if one reads the wording, the tone and the criss-crossing lines of neo-liberal economics over the last few years…which is what is so frequently referred to in the claims…there is some cause for the justification of the accusation…the object being that once the position of “both the same” is accepted by the voters, the right-wing media can resume with uninterrupted distraction to plead their shitty policies as “equals” on a now level playing field…which we are now seeing..and THAT is because I BELIEVE the left’s genitals are now securely in the comfortable “Gucci-gloved” grip of the socially acceptable middle-class dilletantes of politics. It is why the right-wing is using forceful words to sway an indecisive voting public to doubt what they would label as ; “wishy-washy social policy” and to embrace fascist absolutism…in an uncertain world of apparently increasing violence, many look for security to what they perceive as a position of strength.

And that is another reason I have grave doubts about many of these spruikers of virtue signalling and button pushing pseudo left-wing ideals…while at the same time keeping a cautious, unwavering eye on their social and financial status and would be prepared, I’d warrant, to change boats midstream if anything threatened their long-term financial security quicker than you could hum the last two bars of Wagner’s ; “Gotterdammerung”…I don’t trust these political feuilletonists to hold ground when push comes to shove..I suspect they will fold and quickly meld into the ranks of the opposition as the middle-class has, in so many more than one period of Australian political history, their carefully chosen language as well at home in the plush parlours of the private clubs as on the pages of their favoured blog where they wield more power than their limited intellect ought or deserve to be granted.

And THAT is why I will continue to stir the pot of coagulating “progressive” porridge…to stop these self-congratulatory virtue-signallers in their tracks…It is why I believe we all have to hold to that doctrine of “continual revolution” to belay the whispering imp of self-satisfaction with one’s position from making us lazy and indolent..NOT to seek attention, but rather for us all to PAY ATTENTION!

The differentiation of interpretation.

Jobs and Careers: Building trades program attracts persons of color
Free Photo | Manual worker grinding metal steel objects in workshop with  tools

The model that is held up as the yard-stick of measurement for subjective argument in the written thesis, ie;  “good” argument, concise writing…evidence based claims, comes from a section of society that has been nurtured and I would say “conditioned” into accepting that a clarity of interpretation of subject matter can only really be delivered through an educated mind skilled in the art of syntax and grammatical correctness. There are at least two directions by which one can come to a conclusion about a social topic…one is from analysis and concise writing, another is from the emotive expression.

Permit me to make my case ; The Parable :

I have an older cousin who is a bricklayer named Ron. His name really is Cesarino…but that is how the anglicising of “foreign” names go…; Cesarino becomes Ron. Ron was sponsored to Australia by his uncle at the tender age of fourteen, in the early fifties, after the war…He went to school here for a year and then was put to work for his uncle as a brickies labourer…he was a big bloke..a very strong man.

He worked for many years for a Greek property developer named Spero. I too worked for Spero, though not as far back as Ron. As a matter of fact, Ron worked for him for so long he had become sort of adopted into the family circle…Ron was divorced, his child grown up so he was on his own and would be available to do little jobs at the Spero family home on  the weekends and such, so he was asked to stay for dinner some Sundays and it became a habit…so that every Sunday, for many years, he’d go to Spero’s for Sunday dinner….and he appreciated it…he had worked so long for the family business that it seemed natural…..until one day he stopped going.

I was working for Spero then and he spoke to me in a concerned way that he confessed he didn’t know why Ron stopped coming…and Ron wouldn’t say…Spero just couldn’t work it out…and I asked Ron on the job one day ; “‘Why don’t you go to Spreo’s for Sunday dinner any more?”…at first he was reluctant to tell me..but I was persistent. He leant against the wall crowbar in hand and told me.

‘You remember that job we did for Cathy Drummond over at Beulah Park?…yes, well, you remember that big cedar tree out the back she was going to get a contractor to remove?..yes, well…..a couple of months ago, we’re all there at the table having dinner..a roast..and there’s me and Spero next to me and over the table is Barbara (Spero’s wife) and Cathy….and Barbara stops in the middle of her eating and asks Cathy ; “Did you get the contractor to remove that tree, Cathy?”…to which Cathy replied ; “Oh, no!…they were much too expensive…they wanted a thousand dollars!”….there was a moments silence while they returned to their eating, then Barbara stops again looks at Cathy..with her fork with a bit of potato on it pointing at me and she says ; “Why don’t you get Ron to do the job…he’s cheap!”…[ now this is the important point…listen closely…after relating this sad little episode to me and he felt it, believe me..he was saddened ..he leant toward me and spoke in a lowered tone like he was telling a confidant]..: “You see..you are never their friend…never!…you’re always just the worker…you’re never a friend to them, just the worker.”

He didn’t say anything to them, he didn’t let them see he was hurt…he finished  his meal and then pleaded weariness and went home…But at that moment, this man with almost no schooling, no outward knowledge of the structural strata of social classes or even any nous of the perception of those with such excellent education qualifications, this man learnt and interpreted in an instant the Marxian ethos ; the positioning of himself, his fellows in trade, and all those in employment who do labour for a boss…in those words ; “…you are never THEIR friend…”  their friend….them. He did not just mean Spero and his family, he was referring to that whole class of people…a class he never before gave more than a seconds’ thought to in regards HIS position in their society. He was one of the most honest workers I have met…he would scorn shirking on the job as one would spit a bad taste out of one’s mouth!

Yet while Ron understood the situation, Spero and his wife didn’t !…They didn’t because they had been tutored ( both at expensive private schools) in a different but parallel system…THEY were not required to sympathise with Ron “the worker”…they behaved toward Ron as they would toward their other possessions. They couldn’t see any problem with their behaviour because THEY had been educated into their social position and expected someone like Ron to seek to admire and aspire UPWARD to their level of society. But Ron had NO INTEREST in becoming as one with that strata of society..he was confident and content in his own person..as are most of us. So while Ron mixed with them out of a sense of camaraderie and friendship, they saw themselves as doing him a favour……extraordinary, as in reality, it was Ron who, by his skilled labour, helped create the income and therefore their status and lifestyle they got through their speculative building.

Which brings me to that piece I sent to David Donavan ( https://freefall852.wordpress.com/2016/04/05/the-meaning-of-treason-pts-12/ )…He read it ; “…in the spirit it was intended, late at night…” He liked it and said it would be up the next day….then he got cold feet. He could see flaws..sure..there are flaws!..there are flaws in “The Sermon on the Mount” for chrissake!…but it was never meant to educate, it was meant to “connect” to that vein of truth , that nous of knowledge inside all of us. It can be difficult to deliver an emotive connection through statistics and clinical analysis….even “concise writing” can serve to make sterile an intense piece and while it may appear to halt, stumble and falter at times, all that, if written with a true hand and mind will serve as ammunition to reinforce the subject….you just have to trust to your instincts…and ” …the spirit it was intended.”

And THAT’S why I withdrew it…and will not re-present it. Because if one doesn’t feel need to give a “host’s indulgence” without an  “expectation from the guest”, then, like Spero, they will never be enlightened. Now I don’t kid myself that it is a work of great merit, but it is MY work..if there are flaws, they are MY flaws, if it is ugly, brutish and clumsy in syntax or grammar..they are my faults and I want them to stay there. Let the dice fall as they will, I understand the risk, I accept the conditions and like Ron above ; I , alongside MY writing, have shoulders broad enough to carry the presumption.   

                                                              “I come with strength of the living day,

                                                                  And with half the world behind me. ”                Henry Lawson.

If one was to ask.

Stack of books, fire, burning books stock photo

If one was to ask that age-old question that arises when a nation reaches a crossroad of a kind and there is a choice between destructive absurdity and destructive delusion..so one is compelled to ask : “How did we get here?”, then surely it would seem the logical thing to do is to consult the great tomes of history and armed with these examples, peruse the even greater tomes of philosophy to then move on to the multitude volumes of poetry and literature that ought to give reassurance that there IS a reasonably clear, reasoned and logical path to follow to lead us once again to the bright veldts of sunlit clarity of purpose and ambition for the greater majority of humanity.

“Ought to give reassurance”….those are the operative words..but are they the operative deeds?…Machiavelli writes that while there is ample evidence of historical example for us to both learn from and to utilise to improve our conditions, there seems more of a tendency to admire than to emulate wise and judicious example..it would seem that the individual’s ego of whatever age has a tendency to magnify..given the opportunity..its own sense of granduer and importance to the point of ignoring warning and excessive deeds which eventually result in total destruction of themselves and..unfortunately..any society or nation they rule over…and no measure of high education, high art in literature, visual or song has the power to halt the more egregious manners of such an individual or even such a society..

I wrote this poem that describes the futility of such great learning..such great art and placed it up on social media..as I do again now..and it was read by approximately half a dozen people..liked by two..and I am not saying it is a very good poem that deserves a greater audience on the strength of it’s artistic merit..but the topic it raises and the cynical behaviour of its characters demand at least a little bit of consideration, for going by the currect trajectory of a capitalist economy of the world now, there seems little chance of redeeming our climate from slipping away..right in front of our eyes..until the remnants of a once imaginative species will be reduced to the tribal gathering of a small cluster of ragged-tagged individuals burning the great books of humanity just to keep warm..so I conclude that it was an act of futility in recording a futile act.

A sad conclusion to such a promising start.

A cold night on the range.

Was the year after the blast that ended it all,

Not a whole room left standing..just rubble and sprawl,

And we were camp’d freezing amongst it all.

With nary a stick to burn to keep us warm,

But a box full of books packed in haste,

A box full of books found buried among waste.

So we lit a fire with those learned tomes,

Warmed our hands to the rhymes of poems,

And in jest to our plight using the fire we might

Read a line or two and laugh with vulgar delight!

“Here’s a good one”…Louise called out,

Holding the screed aloft in theatrical tout,

And with an exaggerated voice of stage,

Read those prescient words from the page;

When first the tottering house begins to sink,

Thither goes all the weight by an instinct”.

A moody silence fell from those words,

A warning wasted from a long-lost world,

The predicted path of how it all fell…

Wisdom in the silence, it’s echo did tell…

‘Twas Burton’s “Anatomy of Melancholy”,

Come to think..I recall..but whatever ‘twas,

It made good fire…a roaring good fire for us all.

Freezing our bones amid the sprawl.