The joke is on me

I am so bitterly disappointed. 

I have always dreamed of the moment when I could breathe, and take the time to sort out all the thoughts and ideas accumulated during a 20 year long career to write a doctoral thesis. Especially after the last two years where I feel as though I was continually faced with enormous political conundrums which I was not equipped to face except as part of a team. I was part of a team, but almost none of them had any experience in my field, so I spent too much time educating them. 

So now, I was finally going to have the breathing space to think through and find solutions and evidence. 

Instead I am still being forced to write things I have not had the time to reason through. Distressed may be a good word for it actually. Because at this point, if it were feasible, I would love to give up. And that just makes me sad. I am living my dream and I am miserable. 

So, as I said. The joke's on me.

via GIPHY

FIVE THINGS: Kautsky's The dictatorship of the proletariat

I have long fancied myself an academic wannabe of sorts. Essentially if I have one regret in life it is that I waited so long to do my Masters degree, and that I missed the opportunity, possibly to have become a researcher or academic. Nevertheless, I did realise when I finally got around to my postgraduate degree a few years ago that I love theories which attempt to explain the world and can get a surprising amount of energy from the intellectual stimulation which comes from tackling such theories. As a result I am making a concerted effort to improve my education, one could say - my learning journey, as it were.

I recently finished two Norwegian books which basically gave précis of a wide range of thinkers. The first was Demokratisk beredskap which considered thinkers who stood against totalitarianism, both on the right and the left. The people included in this book ranged from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Raymond Aron and George Orwell, as well as a few Norwegians such as Odd Nansen, son of the better known Fridtjof Nansen. This was the book that first introduced me to Karl Kautsky, student of Karl Marx, but perhaps more significantly, opponent of Lenin and Trotsky, and the Bolshevik notion of the dictatorship of the proletariat. So, I got hold of the very pamphlet with the same name and have now read it. And herewith, my "five things" on that.

1. It is quite fascinating to consider socialism as an inherently democratic organisation of society. This contradicts the framing I have heard my entire life. This includes undergraduate courses in sociology. Well, perhaps not so much was said about socialism, but certainly I have the distinct impression that Marx was a communist, and communism is the dictatorship of the proletariat. Nary a word was said about Lenin though. So Kautsky's posit that democracy is a sine qua non of socialism was a fairly new idea to me. Certainly one I approve of wholeheartedly. Suddenly I may consider the whole "democratic socialism" claims of Bernie Saunders supporters in the US differently. Although, if I cling rigidly to what I understand Kautsky to be saying, that phrase is in fact a tautology.

2. Which in turn raises an interesting question as to why Leninism was so long supported in Europe by the left wing of Europe following the Russian revolution and throughout the 20th Century. Even here in Norway, one of our parties has yet to address to the satisfaction of many their Leninist-totalitarian roots. However, both Demokratisk beredskap and a subsequent book I read - Ideologienes århundre both indicate that Kautsky was largely marginalised in terms of Marxist thinking. Lenin won the framing war on the revolution and communism/socialism. (To understand what I mean by framing, read Don't think of an elephant by George Lakoff). Now there is a research topic, just there - the relationship between framing and hegemonic discourses.

3. Kautsky claims that Karl merely used the phrase "the dictatorship of the proletariat" once, and then in passing in a letter in 1875 (Kautsky, 1919: 42). This was the hook on which the entirety of the Soviet communism was hung as it were. Now this is a blog, and it is after all almost three decades since I first studied Marx, but it must surely be telling that I have such a strong association between precisely Marx and the notion of the "dictatorship of the proletariat". It leads me wonder about the academic rigour of this linkage which I at least take for granted. I am by no means an expert, but perhaps it is fair to assume that as someone who has considered herself quite left wing in my political beliefs my entire life, I may be a tad better informed than those who are to my right on the political scale. (Naturally, I have no basis to make such an assertion, but for argument's sake and should just not. Let's just leave it at the fact that I have learnt something from reading this book which I did not know before).

4. The ends justify the means? Kautsky contrasts the state of the societies in Western Europe versus precisely Russia and refers to the tradition and culture of democracy in each case. Which is possibly why I find the high level of support in Western Europe communist circles for Leninism (and even more so Stalinism) so intriguing. The only rationale reason I can come up with the idea that the ends justify the means. In this case, the final goal is the end of capitalism and the socialisation of the means of production. A very economic analysis (and for this I look forward to finishing the other book I happen to be reading at present, Karl Marx's Ecosocialism  - watch this space for more on that).

5. Kautsky was wrong about a few things, but perhaps not everything. When one consider's the state of Russia today, they are not exactly a robust democracy, it may be warranted to note that Russia has at no point in its history had the opportunity to develop a sturdy democratic culture. Which leads me to wonder whether democracy is as natural human condition as it should be. The trajectory of history in Western Europe has certainly called into question whether democracy was a natural stepping stone to socialism. Certainly, while I have the distinct impression that there is more evidence that socialism would allow for better societal welfare, Western societies have shown themselves more prone to liberal capitalism, even neo-liberal capitalism, even countries well on their way to socialism, as envisaged by Kautsky, like the Scandinavian countries. Furthermore, now in 2019, democratic principles do seem a mite more vulnerable than one would have thought possible. It is disquieting.

So an interesting read, and hopefully I will be able to continue my sojourn to finally plug those holes I have been wondering about. Better late than never after all.

My learning journey continues.

Pictures: Demokratisk beredskap cover, dreyersforlag.no and Picture of Karl Kautsky

Kautskay, Karl (1919) The dictatorship of the proletariat,
Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood publishers (1981 reprint)

Poetry appreciation: Du må ikke sove

av Arnulf Øverland

(my emphasis)


Jeg våknet en natt av en underlig drøm,
det var som en stemme talte til meg,
fjern som en underjordisk strøm –
og jeg reiste meg opp: Hva er det du vil meg?

– Du må ikke sove! Du må ikke sove!
Du må ikke tro at du bare har drømt!
I går ble jeg dømt.
I natt har de reist skafottet i gården.
De henter meg klokken fem i morgen!

Hele kjelleren her er full,
og alle kaserner har kjeller ved kjeller.
Vi ligger og venter i stenkalde celler,
vi ligger og råtner i mørke hull!

Vi vet ikke selv hva vi ligger og venter,
og hvem som kan bli den neste de henter.
Vi stønner, vi skriker – men kan dere høre?
Kan dere absolutt ingenting gjøre?

Ingen får se oss.
Ingen får vite hva der skal skje oss.
Ennå mer:
Ingen kan tro hva her daglig skjer!

Du mener det ikke kan være sant,
så onde kan ikke mennesker være.
Det fins da vel skikkelig folk iblant?
Bror, du har ennå meget å lære!

Man sa: Du skal gi ditt liv om det kreves.
Og nå har vi gitt det – forgjeves, forgjeves!
Verden har glemt oss! Vi er bedratt!
Du må ikke sove mer i natt!

Du må ikke gå til ditt kjøpmannskap
og tenke på hva som gir vinning og tap!
Du må ikke skylde på åker og fe
og at du har mer enn nok med det!

Du må ikke sitte trygt i ditt hjem
og si: Det er sørgelig, stakkars dem!
Du må ikke tåle så inderlig vel
den urett som ikke rammer deg selv! 
Jeg roper med siste pust av min stemme:
Du har ikke lov til å gå der og glemme!

Tilgi dem ikke, de vet hva de gjør!
De puster på hatets og ondskapens glør!
De liker å drepe, de frydes ved jammer,
de ønsker å se vår verden i flammer!
De ønsker å drukne oss alle i blod!
Tror du det ikke? Du vet det jo!

Du vet jo at skolebarn er soldater,
som stimer med sang over torg og gater,
og oppglødd av mødrenes fromme svik
vil verge sitt land og gå i krig!

Du kjenner det nedrige folkebedrag
med heltemot og med tro og ære –
du vet at en helt, det vil barnet være,
du vet han vil vifte med sabel og flagg!

Og så skal han ut i en skur av stål
og henge igjen i en piggtrådvase
og råtne for Hitlers ariske rase!
Du vet det er menneskets mening og mål!

Jeg skjønte det ikke. Nå er det for sent.
Min dom er rettferdig, min straff er fortjent.
Jeg trodde på framgang, jeg trodde på fred,
på arbeid, på samhold, på kjærlighet!
Men den som ikke vil dø i en flokk,
får prøve alene, på bøddelens blokk!

Jeg roper i mørket – å, kunne du høre!
Det er en eneste ting å gjøre:
Verg deg, mens du har frie hender!
Frels dine barn! Europa brenner!

*
Jeg skaket av frost. Jeg fikk på meg klær.
Ute var glitrende stjernevær.
Bare en ulmende stripe i øst
varslet det samme som drømmens røst.

Dagen bakom jordens rand
steg med et skjær av blod og brann,
steg med en angst så åndeløs
at det var som om selve stjernene frøs!

Jeg tenkte: Nå er det noe som hender.
– Vår tid er forbi – Europa brenner!

Written in 1936
 

Balm for the soul: A prayer in the Pentagon

I am truly disturbed by the state of affairs since Charlotteville. The world feels less safe, less predictable. I grew up during the Cold War, and under threat of 'terrorism'. And I truly thought we were beyond that. Apparently not. So I was reminded of this poem, which I read as a child at school. It is from the same anthology, New Inscapes, edited by Robin Malan, and published by Oxford University Press, 1986.


by Robert Dederick

NINE
planets, Sir, endlessly circle, Sir,
one yellow star among Sir's galaxies:
Pluto Neptune Venus Jupiter
Saturn Uranus Mercury Mars and this-
this watered and this aired this favoured one
where all that crawl and swim and fly and run
that drove and swarm and herd and flock are in
with tooth and leg and lung and claw and fin
created clothed and colored are by Sir

EIGHT
colors (counting white) Sir's rainbow makes

when whiteness on Sir's broken waters breaks
arched over tidal blue and branching grey
and grazing green and foaling brown down and away
with gorsing yellow glow and honeyed hay
and petalled blush and mottled winging whirr;
the limpid eyes each of Sir's colors wakes
dark-irised are and cleared and curved by Sir

SEVEN
tossing seas Sir's pent-up lands divide
where silver shoals in aching green-ness glide
turn suddenly and dart and flatly lie
break surface plunge and from each other hide
and stare as though by staring they aver
what sweet surprise had widened each wide eye
that once looked early on creating Sir

SIX
senses there were then in us who were
salt-tasting all along salt-scented shore
who felt crust cool and looked on shrinking sea
and heard gull-cry on draining estuary
and found back of these five a something more:
a sense of self and back of self - Sir

FIVE
fingers (counting a thumb) were what
we mostly were aware of as we fought
Sir's elements and cleared Sir's forests and sought
creation-wise new metalled ways to go
by spinning wheel and wing off runway. So?-

FOUR
quarters of our world began to grow
too few and of Sir's yellow star we thought
equations scribbled bubbled in retort
distilled its hot explosive secrets. So? -

THREE
questions pose themselves now as we wait:
did Sir not know how to end what Sir began?
Or could we choose? Or did Sir always plan

TWO
hands of ours to bring us soon or late
bent to destroy what hands of Sir's had wrought

ONE
day when we and all our world are brought to

NOUGHT?

Random musings

Remember this? I remember actually understanding and perhaps rather reluctantly, tending to agree with Zizek on this. As I understood it, his reasoning was that Trump is so bad that he might be just the shock treatment that the system needs to actually make the necessary steps to improve. It was radical and certainly somewhat counter-intuitive for many of us, but I begrudgingly have to admit it made sense. Now I find myself wondering if his view was not a bit optimistic (dare I say it?), perhaps even naive?

How do I come this conclusion? For the simple reason that it is simply too easy to demonise Trump, and so he has become the representation of the system, while he too is simply just a product and symptom of it. Kicking him out of the presidency is not going to solve the problem. It simply takes us back towards status quo, in all its manifold glory. From the religious right embodied in Mike Pence to the Democrats on the so-called left.

Trump has a sturdy group of supporters who will probably support him no matter what. Just as European countries have a small, but significant proportion who support their right wing parties. I suspect we will keep stumbling on for some time yet one way or another.

Having said which, a respite from Trump would be nice.

Black Lives Matter

Probably the most profound learning and growing experience I have had the past few years has been that of the Black Lives Matter movement.

I was doing my Masters degree in Edinburgh, and although already on the way, thanks to a South African friend who was at that stage posting lots of stuff on Facebook which played a huge role in educating me about white supremacy (although that term has gained much more traction since then).

I remember Michael Brown, Freddie Gray, Tamir Rice, but perhaps it started with Trayvon Martin. And it has not stopped since. I can name quite a list without too much effort: Sandra Bland, Rekia Boyd, Eric Garner, Philando Castile, Akai Gurley, Walter Scott etc. etc. There are too many.

Let me take a step back: I am a white South African. I grew up in Apartheid South Africa. I am an English South African, whose father faithfully voted PFP though out my childhood, and who was horrified when my friends admitted their parents actually voted NP. But never politically active. My mother, you may be wondering, did not vote in South Africa. She remained a Norwegian citizen for the duration of her forty plus years of living in South Africa and I like to joke that her most notable anti-apartheid protest was to ensure that both her children received the most Norwegian names conceivable.

She did however have a picture of a crying black girl in the house, and as adults she told us that she had intended that we would ask why she was crying. That would be the basis on which to explain apartheid to us. we never asked. I was not actually one to ask questions. Rather I observed the world around me and came to my own conclusions. Funny thing is, while I may have barely scratched the surface, I was never way off either. I realised that black South Africans lived differently. I pieced it together that it was wrong. And I was born with an inherent sense of fairness which told me it was wrong. Very, very wrong. And so I felt uncomfortable in my own skin as my awareness of the world around me grew. And I dared not think too deeply and suppressed the need for answers as a form of protection. I made good use of my white privilege.

But I remember so clearly the moment it all changed. I was living in Norway for a few years in the early nineties and I came across Steve Biko's book, I write what I like, in the library. So I took it out. Before reading it, I paged through the pictures in the book and my glance fell upon one photo, which seemed a bit more familiar, and the name was certainly a shock. It was someone I knew and respected. Could I even be so bold as to call her a friend? Yet, she had been detained by police and even tortured. And suddenly Apartheid became so much more real to me. And I was ashamed. I was so ashamed of being a white South African.

To cut a long story short, that shame pursued me for many years, until the freedom of discovering that Black Lives do indeed matter. That may seem like a paradox of sorts to you, but let me explain. I am a racist. Of course I am. I grew up in Apartheid South Africa, how could I not be? Even my parents efforts to raise me more non-racist than many of my peers could not escape that. I was a product of my society. And therein lies the freedom. Unlike the myth that racism is a personal foible, the idea that racism is a structural and institutional reality which churns us all out makes perfect sense. It is not something I chose any more than a black person chose to be born in South Africa. BUT that in no way lets me off the hook, far from it. Let me repeat that: far from it.

The Bible says that "For everyone to whom much is given, from him much will be required; and to whom much has been committed, of him they will ask the more" (Luke 12:48b). So we who are white living in a racist system have been given much, no doubt about it. And it is not about. being a white saviour, again, perish the thought. (Quick disclaimer: I grew up in a christian home and spent my entire childhood in that sub-culture. I remain an ardent admirer and dependent of Jesus himself, "christians", not so much, to put it mildly. Thankfully, there are exceptions.) So to speak in the terms of that sub-culture: white saviours are in my view akin to 'idolaters' and those who understand what I mean by that will also understand the consequences that image implies.

Rather we whites need to check our privilege. We need to stop erasing the voices of the rest of the world. We need to sit down and with time learn how and, quite importantly, when to use our privilege to amplify their own voices. We need to voices of justice and equity and restoration. There is so much I could write I suspect. But I am still learning.

And now, with social media and the internet, there are so many "opportunities" to speak. Whether one will be heard in the cacophony of what is 2017, is another question. There are opportunities to learn to write books, feature articles, blogging, ad nauseum. But it occurred to me: am I not just another white "Becky", wanting to be heard. Are there not enough of us? There is a fine balance to be found between taking space and being a voice for change and justice. So this is the question I am grappling with now.

Please join me on this journey.

Source: I'm Not That Kind of Christian (Facebook)

Dave Allen on Religion

How a funeral could inspire a life

It feels kind of odd that it is halloween and yesterday was our Prime Minister's mother's funeral. Today a colleague buried her father, and tomorrow another colleague buries her mother.

Just too much death out and about at the moment!

But death is something that simply cannot be avoided, it is the one truly inevitable thing in life.

I went to the funeral today, and really there are two things that have given me food for thought.

The first was it turns out I work in a place where it is not practice to go to the funerals of colleagues family. This is nothing I have given a great deal of thought to, but it seems to me quite natural. Specially when it comes to colleagues one works closely with. Anyway, I went, and have apologised to the colleague whose mother is being buried tomorrow, as two in a row is just too much.

The other was that although I never met my colleague's father, I had heard a bit about him, as he was a pioneer in the field of social anthropology/ethnography here in Norway. It was a lovely service, what we would call a "dignified send off". One thing which was said about him, which I would love to be said about me too when the time comes: everyone is important.

When it comes to what others may say about you at your funeral, I can think of nothing I would like more than that something like that be said about me.

It helps not to be afraid of death, but the challenge is how the inevitability of dying inspires one's living, wouldn't you say?

Follow up to "After the Party"

Wow! How kul - a comment!! Now THAT is inspiring :)

Yes, in case you're wondering have just spotted a comment, made two months ago to my posting after I read Andrew Feinstein's "After the party". Which in turn reminded me that as a follow up it is worth noting that subsequently the Constitutional court in South Africa has ruled that the appointment of Menzi Simelane to the position of head of the National Prosecuting Agency (?) was not rational. Okay, that may seem absurd, but that is the long and the short of it.

It gives one hope really, although things are more challenging than ever. Especially as last week the Economist had South Africa on its front page and it was depressing reading. What also threw me for a loop was not one but two things I read subsequently. In the one, an article from the Daily Maverick, where the writer argues that the Economist is giving into a stereotypical view of Africa as hopeless. In the other, a letter on facebook, the writer lambasted expats for contributing to the negative of South Africa overseas (which I do agree with!). On the other hand, I do fear that both of the writers are also being a bit naive about the challenges which South Africa is facing at the moment.

However, I have to say that it fills me with some pleasure that in both cases the writers are white. Far too many white South Africans are precisely so negative about South Africa that I actively make sure the same could never be said of me. That said I will not gloss over the challenges. That would be disloyal to what was achieved when Apartheid was overthrown.

Now this is the type of musing which I may in future put on my new blog thinks&writes.

Thinking and acting

Am toying with the notion of starting a regular "column" of thoughts where I would take note of experiences I have here in Oslo which epitomise, for me, the difference between living here and living in South Africa. Usually they involve the realisation that someone acts on the basis of their own reasoning and not on the basis of being asked to do something. This was not an experience I can ever remember having in South Africa, so much so that it still amazes me when it happens here.

So this week's Thinker of the Day award goes to the receptionist at the bank, who simply by seeing me standing there with my bank goodie (am not sure how to explain what it is), understood that I needed another and handed it to me. May sound ridiculously simple but I am very thankful for those moments.

The overthinking moment of the week goes to me. There was a bit of a fuss on the underground today, and so for a while there was only one platform being used. The trains that came through were actually going in the 'wrong' direction as it were (i.e. would under normal circumstances been at the opposite platform). I saw a lady with skiis rush on and thought to go after her and tell her that chances are she would head off in the wrong direction, but then found myself thinking that surely others would...but no one did! So she looked as puzzled as I would have expected when the train started moving in the "wrong" direction. So i am wondering whether Norwegians are actually more worried about being their "brother's keeper" as it were than being helpful in that situation. Must be careful not to become too much like that (even though I am a bit too much my brother's keep at times).