About Men, Books and Walls.

1 07 2008

Well, it’s very simple: when a person “creates” new knowledge – an idea, a theory or even “just” a new twist given to an old thought – there are basically three options on how to proceed. Either the person ignores the existence of the new knowledge – pretending it doesn’t exist; keeps it to him or herself (using it almost secretly for personal benefit); or, finally, passes it on. On a global scale, it is precisely this decision that defines the course of human development.

I explain: The way the world moves forward is said to be the outcome of a struggle between different points of view. They call it dialectics – it comes from the Ancient Greek for “reasoning and discussing to discover the truth”. With this said, it is easy to assume how fundamental it is to maintain thoughts in a perpetual chain of development. Doing this clearly strengthens human development, as it not only elaborates reasoning, but values previous experiences and ideas.

Jorge Luis Borges, probably the most knowledge-ful wordsmith of the 20th century, tells us, in one of his short essays, a story that provides interesting insights on how the odyssey for human improvement can be:

“I read, a few days ago, that the man who ordered the almost infinite wall of China to be built was that First Emperor, Shih Huang Ti, who likewise ordered all books antedating him to be burned. That these two vast undertakings – the five or six hundred leagues of stone thrown up against the barbarians, and the rigorous abolition of history, that is, of the past – should originate with the same person and be in some way his attributes, inexplicably pleased and, at the same time, disturbed me.”

While elaborating on these lines, Borges hints at two essential movements of human development. The first one, that him and I like to refer through books and libraries relate directly to the essence of human existence. To produce, keep and spread knowledge is precisely what guarantees that this very same existence is not a waste of time and effort – as it makes sure that experience is not lost with the briefness of each journey.

The second aspect relates to a more physical and perceptual kind of experience, that we all have had. When talking about walls and borders, Borges is, in fact, reflecting on the abrupt restrictions for human contact and mobility these promote. There is no need to explain, how “to share experiences and to learn from each other” is what creates the best conditions for human development – and it is by having people together, not apart that this happens.

With this in mind, and in much fewer words, this is, in fact, just an over-self-confident attempt to globally build libraries and break walls – all at the same time. The reason is simple: as a metaphor and not, books and open borders are, literally, vital – they allow Men to be their best.

You are all very welcome.

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* Originalmente publicado em e sobre o IJB Thinks, publicação do CISV Internacional. Ainda se aplica.





Na Corda Bamba

1 07 2008

Glassos & Words

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A escrita é um risco; uma corda bamba em que a única rede subposta é a insignificância.

A escrita é a expulsão, o aborto de uma idéia ainda em gestação; permanente, infinita. Uma idéia talvez composta por “um número indefinido, e talvez infinito, de galerias hexagonais, com vastos poços de ventilação no meio”.

Assim, é sempre incompleta; impossível. Faz-se o esforço, o sacrifício de fingir que o que se escreve é o que pensa – pelo bem de não-sei-o-quê. Há vantagens? É certo que há – nem que seja a devida articulação da própria insignificância.

Espera-se, do escrivinhador, que acredite no que escreve; desconsidera-se que o Homem de hoje não é o mesmo que o de ontem.

[mind-tricks, cheap treats, mind threats - são todos corrupção da mesma mente. da mesma fonte.]

Cai-se ai no bom-clichê de Pessoa: “O Poeta é um fingidor”. Mas não finge (sempre) pelo cinismo. Finge porque está em dúvida, e o álibi dos heterónimos é a oportunidade necessária para escrever completamente.

Tomo o risco. Assumo a certeza de estar errado em 15 minutos. Compartilho não o que penso, mas o que pensei. Agradeço a platéia vazia; são menos erratas a distribuir.

Bem-Vindos ao Passado.

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Lisboa, Junho 2008.