Allergic to nationalism

We got our beloved van out again, just to drive across the border to Croatian coast and camp for a few days, enjoying the last bits of Adriatic warmth and sun. We mainly rest and take it easy, observe the sea to spot dolphins (I actually did one today, but only with binoculars ), do some work on editing our book, nothing big really. And we observe how this ridiculous dispute between our two countries over a few metres of sea border is affecting the attitude of people – not very strongly, but you can sense it somewhere in the air. You see, this is not only causing diplomatic tensions (and show-offs), but also through media bombardments shaping how people perceive each other across the border.

It all results in rising nationalism, the us versus them talk, the emotion I never felt related to in any way, not only in this case, but in general sense. Nationalism is not only a completely unknown territory for me; the very existence of it triggers me off. The fact that people do feel and express nationalistic emotions draws a lot of aversion, frustration and upset within me.

I remember growing up in a sort of a neutral country in the decades of the Cold War and I can clearly remember how, even in my childhood years, it all seemed so terribly stupid to me; the fact that human species, inhabiting the same old planet Earth, can not do any smarter than drawing distinctions and fighting wars, killing million for some ideas, for some religious nonsense, for who is right and who is wrong, for the question how is a piece of a land going to be called. I remember I was, a young boy, so furious when thinking about that. It just did not feel right and I couldn’t not be affected emotionally by that. I just couldn’t accept that everybody was taking this way of living for granted – you know, humans having wars here and there, now and then. That seemed to be generally accepted as a normal way of life of human species.

And I am still that little boy being in a shock, staring at it all in a disbelief.

I still get so irritated by any sort of nationalistic speech and thoughts. People saying things like: “Our nation is the best nation in the world. Our country is the best country. We believe in the right God. We are proud of our country. “

Now what does “being proud of your country” actually mean? I guess it means that some people in the history, living in the same area as you were born (by a sheer coincidence, let’s face it) to, well, these people accomplished some things that you like. This is nice, but to be proud of that? It makes sense that people are proud of something they have accomplished, but to be proud of something somebody from the same area, far in the past, has done? Then why not be proud of everything people accomplished in the past, on the whole planet. Let’s celebrate the beauty of the human spirit. And let’s mourn the stupidity of it too.

I guess that I am not only allergic to violence, but also to nationalism.

And now I am getting in touch with the possible reasons for this allergy, for this reaction within me. You see, whenever you define yourself as a Croat, American, Chinese, Pakistani, French, Egyptian…, and whenever you define me as a Slovene, Argentinian, Australian, Tanzanian or Japanese, you focus on and emphasise the petty differences and draw a distinction between you and me, between us and them. And this is not something I want. I yearn for quite the opposite.

I want to connect despite differences, I want to embrace the diversity and bond across it, I yearn for connection, for togetherness, for communion, for Ubuntu… Yes, this is it, I can see it clearly now. Whenever I see this nationalistic emphasising of differences and evaluating them as good or bad, I actually feel sad, torn, hopeless, because not only do I value the communion of people across differences, but this is actually how I perceive this reality, this humanity. I don’t see us and them. I just see all of us.

Although it may sound cheap and wishy-washy or whatever.

May you always be courageous, stand up right and be strong

I admit – in the last 8 years I was not only very critical of the U.S. politics and it’s ways of behaving in this world, but also sometimes had difficulties to distinguish between the politics and the people. On occasions I felt so frustrated while observing the attitude and the values of the US politics – which were directly opposite to my personal values for mutual respect, nonviolence, fairness and responsibility – that I generalized my critical thoughts all over the American people. I admit and this is not something I am proud of.

But today, when learning about Obama being elected and when watching his acceptance speech, I was crying a lot and felt so happy that you guys have elected this person. I love you all and I am grateful for what you did.

Why am I happy about Obama being elected? Well, I do like his thoughts, words, values and energy in general, but there in one thing in particular that seems to be the most important for me: I sense that Barack Obama sees his role of the president as a responsibility to serve people. He seems to be a genuine servant leader and this is what I find absolutely crucial.

Sometimes when I work with politicians I find it so damn difficult to get this idea across, the idea that they are here to serve people (And if they don’t like this, they may as well go home and stop making mess). Their inner reaction tends to be: “No no, I am on the top now and others need to serve me.” They only too often perceive their position of a leader as their chance to tear apart and divide the prey they have finally laid their hands on. For them being a leader means a sort of a competition, who will get to the top, who will win over others, who will be the first.

Now, I don’t believe this is what the true leadership is all about. I believe it is about responsibility, about a call, about a sacrifice, about serving. It is a burden actually, not a prize.

So, I believe Barack Obama is a servant leader and he is a leader I would love to be led by. To be honest, Americans, for the first time in my life in envy you; you have a leader I would love to have.

Yet, I am also fearful. I question myself how much can one person really do in this world that seems to be ruled by the invisible elites and the international clusters of financial power that keep generating far too powerful interests for any individual to fight. This fears and scepticism within me only got increased after having seen the documentary Zeitgeist – The Movie – which I strongly recommend to everybody. It will make you a bit depressive too, but I believe one needs to keep facing various aspects of reality, not only the pink ones, even if they make us unhappy sometimes.

But, despite my own feelings of disillusionment, I am aware that on the other hand there were great people like Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Dalai Lama, that indeed did initiate big changes. So, if one’s spirit, wisdom, values and persistence are strong enough, nothing can stop him. If he manages to live long enough.

So, dear Obama, may you live long…

Proud of differences

Observing my kids developing similar traits and habits to mine is rather difficult for me, as I was mentioning earlier. When I see that I feel that I am somewhat invading their space, limiting the scope of possibilities in their lives. I feel that I am being too big and too important, as I do not want to lead them really, but to support and encourage on their own paths. Therefore observing similarities between me and them often leaves me with some worries.

On the other hand, what makes me feel really good, and even proud, is to notice the differences between them now and the way I was at their age. For example, the oldest one is much different in many ways:

• in his age I used to be shy, uncertain and very passive in entering relationships. He is proactive and with high level of self-esteem. It is so good to see this.
• I used to blame my parents for everything, passively expecting them to take responsibility for my problems and solve them, especially financial ones. He is far from that; never begs for money, just wants to clear things out and proactively seeks for the ways to make money himself. It looks like he just does not find it interesting to play the role of the victim of destiny (and his father) – the one I loved to play when in his age. And, as embarrassing as it is to admit this, also still for a couple of decades after my teenage years. And it is such a relief to see he is just not into that.
• I used to be so passive in my life, just sort of wondering around in my dreams and fantasies, waiting for the world to come to me and start performing. He is far above that, an action boy, researching the world, working on his own priorities, finding out what he is passionate about and following this passion, developing it… This gives me a lot of inner peace.

So, yes, indeed I am much happier about the differences I observe than about the similarities. Now, of course, there are many things I am not all that proud of, but let’s focus on the positive side

I definitely feel the evolution is taking place here . And I dare to think that this perhaps means I have given him/them better support than the one I got in my youth was.

Last men (and women) standing?

This week of Crete was a pure bliss. Yes, not having to work (now, when do I really ever have to work?) and being alone with Marjeta was great, of course, but the Crete itself did the magic. We rented a 4×4 and headed off to the West and the South of it, as far as possible from the tourist places. And I fell in love with the real Balkan spirit again.

It seems to me that places like Crete are the last posts of rebellion against the commercial monster that is eating up the planet. People here still have not surrendered completely and have not yet became humble slaves to the almighty master – the profit. The simple juices of life still matter more. Much more.

My heart was smiling over and over again when looking at those beautiful people, not giving a damn about the shiny spectrum of the modern infatuations. Playing their own game, retaining aliveness and their own, slow pace of living.

And the dignity, oh their magical dignity. Just looking at the simple people nurtures my soul, to see how they shine in their pure beauty and without any of the attributes of Men’s Health and Cosmopolitan etc. Just their pure dignity and beauty. Being the ancient centres of the universe, softly proud, peaceful, stabile. And among them us from the north-west, nervous, rachitic, pale and pink, hysterical, neurotic, worried just about everything, running here and there, seeking something, trying to reach someplace… We are trying to catch the life while they are letting the life to slowly pass through them.

And the last but not the least: what almost shocks me every single time in Greece, particularly in Crete, is their sincere endeavour to help you build upon and retain your own dignity. They cooperate with you to help you feel OK too. Even police officers will try to help you not feel stupid, but on an equal ground.

Now, this is a true dignity. When you are so sovereign that not only you do not have any sort of a need to put other people down, but when you want to lift them up. Just so that you can sit with them together, drink a coffee, smile, enjoy life and observe the sunset.

OH, there’s so much to grieve over when thinking about the true spirit of the Balkans.