Showing posts with label for Anja and Clive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label for Anja and Clive. Show all posts

August 22, 2013

Past as Precedent.



“Wer’e blondes out there, man.  Dumb and innocent as the day is long.” 
~American Special Forces “person”, concerning the American presence in Afghanistan.



Frenchtoast called and asked how much do I think the past as precedent?  He was reading “Kim”, Rudyard Kipling’s story of another era of the “great game”, the game of intrigue in the power struggle between East and West. The pieces on the board?  Street urchins, a horse trader, a jelly-backed Bengali, and “a very foolish Sahib, a Colonel Sahib without a regiment….” In that game, nations were the contestants, empires the prize.  Borders were drawn only to be tested, crossed, and redrawn by the victors.

International relations were like that then-  

Today all invasions must be called “temporary.”  They must be justified as hot pursuit, or legitimate and limited retaliation, or fraternal responses to official calls for help from the proper internal authorities. 

The new style of relations between nations is sometimes quite a strain.  One reason is that when the “great game” was abruptly halted and borders were frozen, some of those borders were remarkably arbitrary. In many cases, they were unjust and unrealistic to the point of absurdity.

For example, Israel, a great and ancient nation, had no borders at all.  The world was repeatedly divided by lines drawn in Europe.  That is imperialism’ bitter legacy. 

The suddenly frozen borders were particularly artificial and controversial in the Asian region where the Russians and the English both were building their empires.

The Russians first invaded Afghanistan in 1725. A kind of Afghan national consciousness had just begun to emerge after centuries of domination by Mongol warlords, Persian shahs, and Indian emperors. Then the son of the Afghan leader who had thrown off the yoke of a Persian governor found himself facing an army of Russians moving down from the north. His cousin Ashraf fought off both the Russians and the Turks, but Afghanistan remained unstable. 

Next, a Persian bandit chief made himself ruler over Afghanistan. He was passing through for a raid on India, in which he captured and brought back to Persia the famous Peacock Throne, enjoyed later by the deposed shah of Iran. The Indians whose wealth had been looted harbored considerable bad feeling against Afghans for this. They blamed the Afghans because, after all, the bandit chief was their ruler.

You may be sure it is remembered that the jewels and the throne (formerly treasures of the Mughal dynasty that built the Taj Mahal) vanished across the Khyber Pass into Afghanistan. Today's political sympathies in that part of the world, as in other places around the globe, have quite a bit to do with yesterday's memories and conflicts.

By that time, the British were sufficiently well established in India to be alarmed and aroused. Their "great game" of espionage and intrigue used the greed, rivalry, and ambition among Afghan tribes-Barakzai, Baluchi, Pushtun, Ghilzai-to block Russia's designs.

In 1837 the Russians tried again, this time supporting an ambitious Persian ruler who invaded Afghanistan as a first step toward dominating India. The British responded to this aggression by invading Afghanistan also. This launched the first of three British-Afghan wars.

Afghan guerrilla tactics (there were guerrillas long before Mao, Giap, and Guevara) drove the British out with heavy losses. The Russian-backed Persians were repulsed as well.

Bungling the "balance of power" game-setting Afghan tribes against each other may have caused the British failure. But tribal rivalries often broke out without any outside help. This made the Afghans frequently vulnerable to subversion and invasion.

The Russians tried again in 1878. Starting with a successful diplomatic offensive, they persuaded the Afghans to break relations with the British and accept the promise of Russian protection. Taking the old-fashioned direct approach, the British invaded again.  But rather than occupying the country this time, they set up the friendly tribal leader Abderrahman as shah.

Afghanistan was united under him. He negotiated with Sir Mortimer Durand the border, still known as the "Durand line." After a short third war with the war-weary British from 1919 to 1921, Afghanistan gained absolute independence.

But the Durand line was bound to cause trouble. Pathans, living on both sides of the line, wanted an independent Pathan state. This caused friction with Pakistan when, after World War II and the fall of the British Empire, Pakistan became a nation. Baluchis also wanted an independent Baluchistan, but their land was divided by those frozen borders into sections of Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iran.

In 1963 the shah of Iran barely managed to stop a Pakistani-Afghan war over the Pathan quarrel and since it has never been be difficult to stir up these lingering ambitions and dreams.

Meanwhile the Russians never lost interest. Using a variety of tactics from diplomacy to assassination, they brought about shifts in Afghanistan from monarchy with a pro- Western prime minister to monarchy with a pro-Soviet prime minister; then to a republic with that same prime minister in charge. A still more cooperative prime minister followed, and then Afghanistan finally became a puppet regime. Direct rule by Russian invasion was merely the last and not so illogical step.

The U.S. had, of course, inherited the British mantle as leader of the West. American diplomatic efforts to loosen Afghanistan's tightening bonds with the Soviet Union were going so well that the American ambassador was kidnapped and killed.

With all this history on record, the surprising thing to me is that Washington is always so surprised by the latest invasions-especially as the CIA always knows.

Remember Frenchtoast, the Russians are masters also at chess, the game of great patience. If the horses are finally out of the barns, we should remember that Russia first began tampering with the door in 1725.











June 20, 2013

Midsummer…



… has long been a time when myth and reality converge, when deities dance in woodlands and fiery festivities mark the advent of Midsummer’s Day.  Primarily a European tradition, different countries have their own unique and often colorful take on this festival.




Midsummer

On nights like this we used to swim in the quarry,  
the boys making up games requiring them to tear off  the girls’ clothes  
and the girls cooperating, because they had new bodies since last summer
and they wanted to exhibit them, the brave ones  
leaping off  the high rocks — bodies crowding the water…

(...)

… The summer night glowed; in the field, fireflies were glinting.
And for those who understood such things, the stars were sending messages:  
You will leave the village where you were born  
and in another country you’ll become very rich, very powerful,
but always you will mourn something you left behind, even though   
you can’t say what it was, and eventually you will return to seek it.

~Louise Glück





Sommersonnenwende

Nun die Sonne soll vollenden
Ihre längste, schönste Bahn,
Wie sie zögert, sich zu wenden
Nach dem stillen Ozean!
Ihrer Göttin Jugendneige
Fühlt die ahnende Natur,
Und mir dünkt, bedeutsam schweige
Rings die abendliche Flur.

Nur die Wachtel, die sonst immer
Frühe schmälend weckt den Tag,
Schlägt dem überwachten Schimmer
Jetzt noch einen Weckeschlag;
…Und die Lerche steigt im Singen
Hochauf aus dem duft´gen Tal,
Einen Blick noch zu erschwingen
In den schon versunknen Strahl.”


~Ludwig Uhland, Sonnenwende




               ✗✗✗✗❣ 0*-)




May 16, 2011

Enchant(ed)? ♪♪♪♪♪♪


This weekend Mlle.Guillotine sent me an album called Enchant. I was intrigued by the voice, violin and harpsichord playing, especially the What If? track, by Autumn. Her jarring violin and bold voice demand attention, let alone her apperance.
Autumn describes her music as “Victoriandustrial” and it is not difficult to understand why. Her songs are filled with tales of insane asylums, suicides, and stifled women.




…When I’m beheaded at least I was wedded
And when I am buried at least I was married
I’ll hide my behavior with wine as my savior
But, oh, what beautiful things I’ll wear
What beautiful dresses and hair…

She delivers these themes in a flurry of vitriol, backed up by her electric violin and hammering harpsichord.
 

From what I have seen online, her gigs are pure Vaudeville. This extends to her albums. The designs are lavish. I have read that despite her considerable gifts, she was often singled out and bullied for the way she dressed and for daring to experiment with music and seek her own style. Her success is probably the best revenge she could dish out.


Love what you will…

【ツ】