Footprints of Hate

Would that be a fitting title of a book that describes the history of man’s inhumanity to man?   

Many of our ills today are the resulting ignorance from the grip of 2500 year old religious tenets that have discriminated and enslaved people, committed genocide in its name, but continue to be taught and policies enacted based on the same erroneous information.  It’s not conjecture anymore, it’s scientific fact; differences between man amount to little more than opportunity.

Wouldn’t the world be a different place if it were actively taught that, instead of as recently as 100 years ago, William Ripley’s, Races of Europe, or Carleton Coon’s Origin of Races as recently as 1962, was not valid science, but instead, it were aggressively taught that there is no justification for the concept that anybody on this earth, regardless of skin color, is a different species?  And that it was also actively taught that in light of this information, any policy constructed on this erroneous foundation would fail society with these beliefs?  And we’re seeing the effects first hand today with people of color disproportionately out of work.

For the first time, the actual connection between the persistence of ignorance of the latest scientific findings and the consequential failures of our social treatment of one another because of believing the contrary is available.  It addresses how this erroneous line of thinking has affected our treatment of one another and how, worse yet, it is still permitted to exist.  But it doesn’t stop with the “Racial” question; it goes beyond and it affects most of the planet in more ways than are visibly recognized.  It is a topic with a plethora of issues.   Israeli/Palestinian hate; homosexuality hate, same sex marriage, military service; illegal immigration; ethnicities; white, black, Chinese, Japanese; Islam, Christianity, Judaism; Apartheid, slavery, discrimination, Jim Crow; the poor, the wealthy, the undeserving, the labels; the Holocaust, the Jews, Genocide, Rwanda, Bosnia; Wops, Kikes, Niggers, faggots, we got ‘em all here, and more; famous bigots, mass murderers, innocent racists, victims, perpetrators; the list and questions go on longer than the pages here as tribute to the lies we have lived and yet continue to perpetuate with just about every child born on earth today.  This is mother earth’s humanity today.

If these lies continue to be disseminated, as the capability was illustrated with the Bertha and Tea Party movements, the deleterious effects of this polarization of issues beyond race, will be, considering we are in a new world of telecommunication and man’s global movements, catastrophic.  Just think of 9/11 and beyond, to possibly the world’s worst nightmares; not necessarily created by rogue mentality, but by our neighbors.

Filter Bubble!

I learned a new expression.  The idea is not original, but the label is.  A filter Bubble is when you go on Google, or say, a Facebook, and request information. These entities of social media present you with choices.  Great you think, but the results they offer are not what you think.  You are getting answers based on your past preferences.  In other words, if you lean towards the right and love Hannity or O’Reilly, based on your past requests, you’ll get answers that are similar with those philosophies.  It’s doubtful you’ll get Rachel Maddow’s opinions.  Hence, the bubble that you’re in has filtered the information fed to you.  Some might think this is great because they don’t have to weed thru unwanted info that only espouses ideas they loathe. But that’s fine if you’re a non thinking person.  That’s fine if you don’t want choices and you want other sources to make them for you.

 

Did it ever occur to you that when you get too much information from one source, you in effect become brainwashed because you don’t have alternate opinions to counterbalance those you think you like?  In effect, you abdicate your ability to compare because you signed on to the managed news that you had no idea was being foisted on you.

The result is that you then fall into the filter bubble where everything that comes before you is biased.  This is a subtle news management tool.  You’re not controlling the input but some other source is.  Did you ask for this response?  Or did you believe you were getting something else?  Or maybe you like the non threatening aspect of staying comfortably in your bubble?

From Eli Pariser, (check the link) author of The Filter Bubble:  "In the filter bubble, there's less room for the chance encounters that bring insight and learning.  Creativity is often sparked by the collision of ideas from different disciplines and cultures.  Combine an understanding of cooking and physics and you get the nonstick pan and the induction stovetop....... a world constructed of the familiar is a world in which there's nothing to learn.  If personalization is too acute, it could prevent us from coming into contact with the mind-blowing, perception-shattering experiences and ideas that change how we think about the world and ourselves."

So the next time you’re waiting in a doctor’s office, or another similar situation, pick up a magazine, but one you wouldn’t subscribe to at home; not to mention one you wouldn’t even pay for.  But by exposing yourself to the thoughts of others whom you wouldn’t normally associate with, you are at least hearing another view.  

Now that’s just one side of the benefits.  If you’re a sports jock you would likely go for the sports, hunting, mechanics, or maybe finance magazines.  How about picking up that copy of Family Circle, Glamour Magazine, Time or Newsweek?   But if you go straight for the People Magazine, find something else; a senior citizen’s read, a science magazine.  The point is, whenever the time you’re in an environment that you find yourself waiting; read something out of the ordinary and start breaking thru the bubble.

Always talking about the same thing becomes boring to a listener, particularly when you can’t offer a reply to some criticism, but parrot the response that you’ve heard told by others.  Now you’ll have your own agenda and talking points.  Absorbing information that doesn’t fit a particular mold enables one to cross reference ideas.

The only reason why scientists are making inroads as to who really “discovered” America is because archeological findings are matched with ocean currents for plausibility, DNA findings, agricultural similarities, language, or skeletal remains and so on.  One person sitting in their closet thinking the Jews discovered America and a Cherokee (or one like that) tribe in Ohio claims heritage to the Jews would go unchallenged unless people were thinking out of the box, out of their filters---the same with political ideas, new inventions or discoveries.

So certainly you can take a few moments or whatever and as infrequently as you let it happen, get out of your box.  Get out and think about what we have in common with our neighbors and how can we make it better.  Think about our common Human Universals, our common genetic makeup and practically the same blood that runs thru us all.  It might even mean skipping the weekend tenets of the biggest filter bubbles of all---religion. Take a day off---you’ll be here the next day and won’t be any less the follower for it; but maybe a more understanding person---not a zombie in a filter bubble.

No Flies !         

Jerusalem Highlights

     Although Rome was the trigger for my thoughts about man’s interaction with others over the years, a trip to Jerusalem and Sicily three years later would leave an indelible impression. The obvious is the work that has transformed a desert into a thriving State of Israel in some 60 years.  The ingenuity and resourcefulness of man is on display once again.  

     Whereas Ancient Rome was a catalyst for instituting and originating the policies and the politics of a world to come, Jerusalem has been the stepchild caught in the throes of its own search for identity. There was something exciting about the more subtle feeling that I was where it all just about started, a cradle of man’s civilized existence.  It was the anticipation that comes with exploring the place that has been much of the world’s enduring spiritual center, to see and experience what has been the source of the gravity that attracts humanity’s masses.

     So on one hand, the history and attachment to civilizations of the past and the pull it still maintains on the world’s imagination is unequalled.  But twenty five hundred years later, the mystique remains nothing more than memories, and the city is nothing more than a real-time virtual museum engulfed in modern day politics; the politics generated by being nothing more than a coveted, prized, relic claimed by many due to a sentimentally revered status.  Surely, horses don’t commute anymore to heaven, the dead don’t resurrect themselves, and if we can recreate the oil miracle of Chanukah, the world would truly have a bonanza.  Why don’t we try?  But such are the things fantasies are made. 

     For our self designed tour, we “got a guide from get a guide;” that old Jackie Vernon haunt.  Our guide was an old high school acquaintance who had moved to Israel some 30 years ago that I had had little contact since school days.  My choice of this connection was one of familiarity and nostalgia. His “calling” was to “return” to Israel.  Little did I know our shepherd was one of “them”, thirsting for new potential proselytes; but he was about as homegrown a “New Yorker” if I ever knew one. 

     When viewing his website he appeared in his army garbs the likes of Larry the Cable Guy, with safari hat and pistol on his side.  His biography revealed that he was an expert marksman and firearms instructor.  Hey, each to his own, I figured, one of my close friends at home was an avid hunter; so I was used to the shtick.

     In the four days we had in Jerusalem I was determined to explore what I could to get a sense of the passion of the city.  I didn’t do a bad job all around.

     We started with an excursion to Masada. The breakfast at our hotel for that morning was like being at a Bar mitzvah; every dish imaginable, and the same every day.  Our guide, Avi, originally Alan, showed up promptly, and not to disappoint, in full regalia, just like his website.  I got the real McCoy.  “Hey Alan, er Avi; what’s with the gun, I don’t recall you wearing one in high school?”  “Hey”, he says, “You never know.”  Never know what, I’m thinking?  I felt like Woody Alan when after hunting he’d tied the moose he shot onto the front of his car and was stuck in traffic in the tunnel; and he found himself staring at the moose on the front of his car; when it woke up.

     Desert, dates, camels, walls, nomadic camps, checkpoints, Dead Sea, an oasis, Masada; and in July, it’s f’n hot.  Being the adventurer I wanted to be, we thought we’d “walk up” the mount because, where we were, we’d then truly experience the authenticity of the moment.  Well, we didn’t have a flashlight and didn’t get there at 4am.  A wise choice; because there was no way we were climbing that mountain in 100 degree heat and would live to tell about it.  Bad enough I was a little height phobic with the funicular and get-off above, but on top of the plateau it was unbearable enough; I was going to finish this trip on my own two feet.  My choice of Avi, and his suggestion against the idea, was paying off.

     Now I don’t want to go into detail about Masada, but all thru our trip Avi is quoting the historian Josephus; Josephus this, Josephus that; King David, Solomon, God, all sorts of Biblical tidbits that he thought was important for us to know.  I realized we were a long way from the science class we shared.  Ok, I didn’t know squat where I was nor was I equipped to start debating the authenticity of his claims.  Masada, by the way, is where we were told that a band of Jews refused surrender to the invading Roman army in the first century, so they committed suicide. A true “feel good” story; so did a thousand people in Jonestown; and a bunch of Hale bop worshipers, and who knows how many other countless zealots make sacrifices and take their own lives. But it didn’t make me feel good. 

     That morning there was a report of a terrorist taking control of a piece of construction equipment and wreaking havoc in downtown Jerusalem. I could see Avi wanted to reach for his gun, but there wasn’t, at present, a justifiable enough motive.  It was good to get back to a good “Jewish” meal that evening; baba gonoush, hummus, salad, fish beans, shawarma; but what was so “Jewish” about that?  That’s Israeli, mideastern food found in the region.  The Brisket, Pastrami, noodle pudding and the like are Eastern European Ashkenazi imports to wherever.

     I also wanted to go to go to the West Bank, wherever that was, to see, firsthand, how their Seven Elevens stacked up to ours.  So Avi joins us once again for our, almost, Mitzvah breakfast, I joke to myself, maybe there’s a reason, it could be his last, and says our “vehicle” is ready to go to Hebron.  It was a recycled Brinks armored truck!  He “didn’t want to take any chances”, he said. 

     We were going to kill a couple of birds so to speak and visit the Tomb of our Forefathers and also see the conditions in the West bank; but for “security” reasons we should be in an armed vehicle. “Ya never know”, Avi said, he was prepared for “animals”.

     From Jerusalem it’s a short drive in our steel tomb to Hebron.  On the way we got our explanation of the “walls”.  They were for security purposes and around the west bank to keep terrorists from attacking; as if there wasn't anyone else living in the West Bank except terrorists. One could not conjure up the conditions that people were livening in.  I was reminded of worse than Harlem, the Bronx, Brooklyn, and the inner cities in the 70’s, the worst dilapidation that I had seen since the race riots in the U.S.; and people were living here.  Walls also keep people “in”.  In America we have the invisible kind for various reasons.

     After passing thru a checkpoint our vehicle stopped and we were led to a dwelling of some local residents. To my eyes; the “dwelling” was nothing more than trailer; a young Jewish couple, he in a black hat, beard, long sideburns, white shirt, the usual garb of a religious sect; she modestly dressed; and a little child, clearly not bathed, standing alone in a diaper, thumb in mouth, amidst the squalor and distress.  I’m just taking it all in.  I was a long way from “Kansas”.

     The man spoke English very well.  And with armed Israeli guards patrolling the area I asked why he was inclined to live amidst such conditions.  Perhaps a little presumptuous on my part, but hey, he did speak English.  “It’s a better life here than living in Rochester.”  New York, I said?!  Now, I remember the W.C. Fields line, “I would rather be dead than play Philadelphia;” but could Rochester be that bad?  Avi asked that we give the man a couple of shekels and it was time to leave.  Now, I’m the moose.  This Rochester expatriate was the, infamous, “settler”.

     Back in the vehicle I was able to speak in a tone louder than a muddle.  “This Palestinian issue will never be settled when you have people who are living a fanatic’s life; and they’re on both sides of the equation.”  Their little child’s future is better here than even in Rochester?  They died on Masada 2000 years ago, and believe they have to live a life as close to the edge today for their beliefs.  You know what Bertrand Russell said. “I wouldn’t die for my beliefs; I could be wrong”.   I couldn’t wait to get back to “Kansas”.  Not really, but this “Inspector Clouseau”, this Charlie Chan, was on the job.

     Our afternoon was no less a moving experience.  Yad Vashem is the Holocaust Museum; the plight of the European Jews around the Second World War.  We hear the word genocide, we’ve heard the word holocaust.  By the way, the original term used to describe the genocide of the Jews was “Shoa”.  “Holocaust” was co-opted by Zionists in the 1960’s as part of their public relations campaign. 

     One can only achieve understanding man’s inhumanity to man by touring Yad Vashem.  From the design, the lighting, the assemblage of artifacts and the narrative description of the atrocities; one can only, then, leave with the sadness created by the darkness of that hour in man’s history.  Yet as if it weren’t enough, in typical Philip Roth guilt”, a nagging question is posed; “Why didn’t Roosevelt bomb Auschwitz?”  That answer would come later too.  One question gets answered, another gets asked.

     Our final day encompassed a tour inside the walls of Old Jerusalem, the four quarters in the market, the Wailing Wall, and an accompaniment of anecdotes to fit the situation.  (It’s my “Hookah” connection).  But people are people everywhere with the same universals and behaviors.  Someone’s always got their hand out for a cause, or hustling to feed the family.  From the taxi drivers taking roundabout ways, from in New York or in Jerusalem, to the purveyors of souvenirs that the rest of the world thinks they cannot live without; to the institutionalization of the stories that keep a group together for their survival---lest they be forced to believe in the real world; people are all the same.

     Avi is a Zionist; sadly to say, one of “them”.  Our trip was from the vantage point of his filter bubble.  He revealed his discomfort when, in retrospect, he didn’t take us to the Dome of the Rock where Mohammed flew on his horse to the heavens; he was on guard being in the Muslim quarter in the market, he refused to enter the Church of the Holy Sepulcher; his frustration when confronted with challenges about the authenticity of his statements.  But Avi’s omissions were more telling about his extremist agenda.  It was, I’m sure, unwittingly, a huge personal revelation; giving insight on more than one occasion to the depth of the situation.  But he was proud, nevertheless.  Where one side of the equation wasn’t experienced, another, more important one was.  If there’s a fanatic one side, there’s always a counterbalance on the other.  I would have plenty of reading ahead.

     That Friday night we walked a few blocks from the hotel to a local Arab restaurant.  An Isareli one open in Jerusalem, on the Sabbath, was out of the question.  Although we had our Arab apprehensions because of our preconditioning by Avi, the restaurant couldn’t be nicer.  Is there a person in America who hasn’t taken a shower and thought at one time of Hitchcock’s shower scene in Psycho?  We all watch too many movies, all too influenced by our bubbles of comforting convictions and information.  There would be much for me to tackle in my research when arriving home to my “Kansas”. 

     The final note in the first leg of our trip; we were vanned out at 1am on a Saturday morning for our early flight to Sicily; another experience in the making; more history of man’s movements to explore.  But our driver would not be an observant Jew; it was still the Sabbath. There are thousands of Arabs in Jerusalem who would gladly be available. And little did/do they know how similar they really are to their Israeli counterparts.  But although counterparts they may be in humanity, clearly one is in control of the other in the form of walls, checkpoints, armed guards and government. We would arrive at the airport security checkpoint and be searched by the Israeli guards before entry.  We were being escorted by an Arab---Jews and Christians alike in a van, with our human universals---and we were in good hands.

No Flies !