The Bloody Past.
Seems there was a lot, not right, about the history I was taught in my youth. I was never a fan, perhaps there is a relation there, so I did not venture far from the prescribed texts. When I did, it was political theory, Mao and Marx, not that I was a great fan, but the material was available and it seemed like there was some opposition to my reading it. I've always been that way, it only took going to a behaviourist school of psychology to get me to read Freud. That was a nice confirmation that I was in the right place.
The intentional gaps in my knowledge, put there by the Rosy History Narrative Society of White European Hegemony, has only acted to produce a detached citizen, much more so I think, than if the truth had been brought to the table in adequate proportions. I can deal with faults and error. I can extend my hand for healing. I can bring authentic empathy for the past and reconcile the future.
Such opportunities were not presented, they are not part of the context in which I was raised. They were supressed. For many, these blinders must form a convenient amnesia, and inject the mind-bending opiate of the Glory of Wars. A well-formed sustained formula that needs only the lightest dose of fear, real or imagined, to call all bets off, excuse all civility, denounce any higher calling, and loose the hounds.
Did my teachers know they were to instil a taunt spring of hate, a blood lusting primitive tribalism that could be released when needed? Did they know that was one of their functions? Has that not been a purpose of their employers? This is the other side of the equation to the voices of the vanquished, the oppressed, the victims of societies that tell people who are not them all those typical things that people say to diminish the humanity of others they wish to dominate.
It’s unlikely any place will ever get its government out of the business of teaching history, everybody has their own Rosy History Narrative Society. I despair of them all. In certain individuals, as imperfect as the rest of us, I see a shining light. They shine in the free thought of those who are brave enough to have listened with a critical ear, who see a bandwagon and let it pass by, who are brave enough to say no and carry on to be true to themselves. In this sky I will never shine brightly, but I will try to be one small light, illuminating a few small truths so these children that others have had, may have a chance. When it is a good day to die, I will die with integrity.
The intentional gaps in my knowledge, put there by the Rosy History Narrative Society of White European Hegemony, has only acted to produce a detached citizen, much more so I think, than if the truth had been brought to the table in adequate proportions. I can deal with faults and error. I can extend my hand for healing. I can bring authentic empathy for the past and reconcile the future.
Such opportunities were not presented, they are not part of the context in which I was raised. They were supressed. For many, these blinders must form a convenient amnesia, and inject the mind-bending opiate of the Glory of Wars. A well-formed sustained formula that needs only the lightest dose of fear, real or imagined, to call all bets off, excuse all civility, denounce any higher calling, and loose the hounds.
Did my teachers know they were to instil a taunt spring of hate, a blood lusting primitive tribalism that could be released when needed? Did they know that was one of their functions? Has that not been a purpose of their employers? This is the other side of the equation to the voices of the vanquished, the oppressed, the victims of societies that tell people who are not them all those typical things that people say to diminish the humanity of others they wish to dominate.
It’s unlikely any place will ever get its government out of the business of teaching history, everybody has their own Rosy History Narrative Society. I despair of them all. In certain individuals, as imperfect as the rest of us, I see a shining light. They shine in the free thought of those who are brave enough to have listened with a critical ear, who see a bandwagon and let it pass by, who are brave enough to say no and carry on to be true to themselves. In this sky I will never shine brightly, but I will try to be one small light, illuminating a few small truths so these children that others have had, may have a chance. When it is a good day to die, I will die with integrity.