Die Grünen : Philosophie und Religion

Man kann die Grünen wie eine Vereinigung der Religion und der Philosophie sehen. Einsicht, Empiricismus, Rationalismus: alles zu verbessern den menschlichen Zustand sich einbindet. Und was ist die Umwelt? Das ist das ganz Universum.

Die Chinesiche kann besonders diese Beziehung sehen, durch dem Pragmatismus der Marxismus, wie durchs Mikroscop. Der Begriff kritisch der Marxismus ist, die Theorie ausnützen wie Hilfsmittel, pragmatische und nützliche Ergebnisse erreichen. Aber es ist doch selbstverstandlich, daß wenn die Theorie, die Orthodoxie werden, man kann die neuen Ideen nicht mehr wahrnehmen. Und, wenn wir die Theorie ausnützen nicht, wir haben keine eigentliche Richtung.

Für den Chinesen, die Einsicht, sehr wichtig bleibt. Vielleicht, die Einsicht mehr wichtig ist als beide, die Ergeibnisse der Empiricismus oder die Theorie der Rationalismus. Ganz Wissenschaft und Philosophie trandionelle der China in Einsicht gegrundet waren. Zum Beispiel, für den traditionelle chinesische Medizin, das Gedächtnis und das Denken sind nicht im Hirn ortsgebunden, aber mit ganzen anderen Organen entstehen und sich entwickeln, in eine Weise sehr complizierte und schwierig voraussagen. Selbstverstandlich, das ist der Fall für die Liebe!

Die Weise der Westen, -- Logik, Klassifizierung -- der Versuch einer allgemeine Vorstellung der Außenwelt zu entwickeln, mit die Philosophie der Osten, nicht vereinbar sind. Für den Chinesen und die Leute der Indien, der Innenwelt und der Außenwelt dasselbe sind -- es gibt kein Unterschied klar zwischen ihnen. Verstehen alles oder verstehen nicht. Und es einfacher ist, sich selbst zu verstehen, als den Dingen der Außenwelt. So, verstehe sich selbst zwecks verstehen der Welt.

Individualismus, Einsicht, "tun was Du will" sind die Grunden einer anderer "Logik" mehr bekannt im Indien und China als im Westen. Aber diese ist auch die Logik von den Propheten des Judentums und des Christentums. Und es ist auch die Logik der Unbewusst von Sigmund Freud, der Welt der Lust, der Sexualität, der Träume, einer Wissenschaft der Träume. Eine Wissenschaft der Umwelt integriert alles.

Muse of the Dawn

I loved the sun, when I was a boy. I love the light. I was drawn to it, it is the source of all we know.

Light thrills
But I cannot want for it
Light chills the heart
With knowing the unknowable
With untold fathoms
Deep inside.
I cannot see
All that you see.

The sun is the source of heat and light, and, I suppose, by the will of Allah, the fount of all life itself. Yet, the sun is our servant. Or, are we the servant of the sun? Surely, the sun is much greater than mere man. More powerful, more important. Eternal and unchanging. Yet, it does serve us, our needs. And, through the calander, it seems to obey our will. Our astronomers plot the course of the sun, and, if they have skill, it seems that the sun cannot deviate from this course.

Surely, then, it is skill, quickness, perception that make the master, not size or even power. A pack of wolves can master a lion. And Allah is master of us all, Allah whom we cannot see at all, cannot even imagine, cannot match to any form in all of nature.

They have called me "Christian" because I say "I am God". But I believe in no Christ. Jesus son of Mary was, of course, a Prophet and no more, for such is all a man can be. But we all may speak with the voice of Allah if we are wise and just in what we say and do.

Creation,
We love our children
As Allah loves us all

Mothers have a way of knowing what will befall their children. My mother always said

"I don't mind spoiling my children. Allah knows, the world will not!"

My father was a cotton merchant. A pretty good one, too. Always a good provider for his family. I remember travelling with him for goods to sell, as a boy. I was quick with figures, and a good worker. We would negotiate and bargain for hours. But, I never cared for haggling. Some of the seamier merchants would actually burn the crops and farms of their competitors! But, that is business, of course. And I am no businessman. By the time I was a youth, women had begun to flee from me as slaves from a drunken master! They had no use for a poor scholar. But I had acquired some influence by my pen, and this was enough for me. There is great satisfaction to be had from the pursuit of wisdom, and it is the only thing that the world can never take from you.

I've always had some difficulty with authority, for some reason.

The chains I wear
I cannot bear
Their weight, alone.
They must bind the world
And all her progeny!

Freedom and Power are natural antagonists. And there is no greater freedom than the freedom of the mind. There is no greater freedom than the pursuit of truth. And truth has been my sole passion, my sole interest, my sole desire for my whole life. Those in authority cannot bear the revelation of certain truths, or, even if they may ignore them, they cannot have those truths acted upon. Disinformation is a necessity for the long term maintenance of power, of control, of any and all forms of authority. The Caliph cannot rule if people truly know the Caliph! And so, the Caliph came to have some difficulties with my teachings.

"The Prisoner has been cited repeatedly for his theological errors, errors of a gravity that they could, in principle, severely threaten the State. Our tribunal is tolerant, broad-minded, and merciful. But, for the good of us all, mercy must always be tempered with justice. Consider the claims, and the demands of this heretic. He would have us question each, every, and all legal principles so clearly and piously enunciated in the Holy Koran. He would define his own cosmology, on his own terms, and give all others the right to do the same. He would even claim, indeed, he has claimed, that, and I quote him, 'I am God'. "

"Precisely what he means by this latter statement I cannot presume to say, precisely. Indeed, I am far from convinced that the Prisoner himself is entirely clear as to the meaning of this particular blasphemy! Perhaps, his sole purpose in enunciating it has been to attract the attention of the Holy Tribunal. If so, he has indeed been successful!"

"Let us consider the possible meanings of this rather bizarre statement. It appears to resemble the view of the Christians in many ways, that their Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, was -- by some mechanism that they themselves are quite incapable of describing -- somehow the "Son of Allah". This view hearkens back to the ideas of the pagans and the polytheists, that Gods had sexual intimacy with mortals. Yet, the Christians somehow deny this, claiming that the means of conception was "miraculous". While this Tribunal has sympathy for the delusions of the Christians, and allows them to practice their fantastical beliefs given the payment of a modest tax, we fear that the Prisoner's case is far worse than their childlike mental illness."

"For the Prisoner is an educated man, not known to fraternize with the deluded sect of Messianists. And his views seem more to tend to Atheism or Pantheism, in the view of this Tribunal, than to belief that he, personally, is the "son of Allah", or Allah himself. Indeed, the Prisoner would seem to deny all authority based on the Holy Koran, the words of the Prophet, or any other Divine source. This is his danger. And this, must be his downfall."

"This Tribunal finds the Prisoner a direct threat because of his claims that any man -- but, most especially, himself -- has the right to challenge all aspects of Holy Doctrine solely on the basis of his own whim or idea. Such a destructive doctrine can only lead to destruction and anarchy. Such is the view of this Tribunal, and such is the view of this State. Therefore, in order to ensure its own survival, this Tribunal has no choice but to condemn the Prisoner to the Torture, and to execution by beheading."

Actually, it is rather easy work to be tortured. The torturers do all the work for you! All one must do, to win at this game, is appear to suffer less than those who are attempting to inflict suffering upon you. After all, the State is taking a great deal of trouble to demonstrate its superiority over you, a mere individual. Should you manifest even a modicum of dignity in the face of this onslaught of pain and humiliation, the State looks very foolish indeed. So, I knew exactly what to do.

They sawed through my wrists and ankles, ever so slowly, in order to destroy my body as painfully as possible, in hopes of crushing my will. But, a life of moderate poverty is sufficient to expose one to most all pain and humiliation possible. The State simply cannot replicate in a short period of time the pain of a lifetime! Another limitation of the system, I'm afraid. When I deliberately rubbed the bloody stumps of my arms on my face, they couldn't stand it any more,

"What are you doing you crazy devil! Why are you rubbing blood all over your face?"

"I want some color in my face, lest I appear pale with fear! What with all this blood I've lost."

This is not exactly the reaction desired by torturers. I suppose I probably cost them their jobs.

So, they threw me in a dark, dank cell, covered over in straw. I was wondering if they would leave me there. This might, actually, have been a more effective torture than the one they had chosen. To die slowly of hunger and thirst, in the darkness, bleeding slowly to death from four gory stumps, might have been quite terrible. But, such is not the way of the State. They must turn death into a great spectacle. Otherwise, why take the trouble?

And, as I see the dawn approach, I know that Allah, the All-Wise, the All-Merciful, has granted my last request. That, as I am dragged to the scaffold, my bloodied stumps painfully passing over the stones in the empty courtyard, thrilling what is left of my ruined body, that, as the headsman's glittering axe accomplishes its task, my eyes and soul will, at the last, fulfill the Glory of the Sun.


© Copyright Jerome Raymond Kraus 2007

The Scholar


It was a desert place. Rocky, barren, inaccessible. Almost invisible, inconceivable as a place of human habitation. Not enough water to feed a blade of grass, let alone a full-grown tree. A dwelling place for vulture and jackal, seeking the flesh of those desperate enough to find themselves there.

Barren rocks and hills dotted the landscape, gaps and crevices like broken, jagged teeth fracturing the monotonous, sandy surfaces. Out of one, came a man.

The Scholar was about middle height, slender but strongly built. In the prime of his manhood, he looked confident and a bit fierce. His eyes seemed to shine and sparkle in an unpredictable way, attractive but disturbing at once. He climbed down to the road.

Before the Scholar lay the great city of Mecca. A marvellous tapestry, a stunningly beautiful magic carpet, teeming with color, life and motion. Browns, reds, yellows mixed with the verdant greens of lush gardens watered by innumerable fountains and pools, the great man-made oasis of Arabia. The Bedouin dream of Paradise.

"So pretty," thought the Scholar, "were it not for people in it!" He travelled down the road, entering the city.

"Hey Professor, what are you up to?"

He was a young street tough, from a competing clan. The Scholar walked past him, ignoring the question. He had to do that. Mustn't encourage the ignorant.

"What would you do if you were a slave, Professor? Cut your own throat? Maybe we'd do it for you."

The Scholar looked back at him, hard. He wasn't often threatened. The Banu Hashim protected their own, and he had done nothing to discredit them. This young man might have to be taught a lesson or two. He walked on.

The street gangs seemed quiet today. It was a relief not to hear the screams of women, of the elderly, as they tried to defend themselves against these thugs. The Scholar had been an orphan himself, had been shuffled as a child from family to family, but he had always been protected sufficiently to ward off hunger and destitution. He knew that many were not so fortunate. He had travelled widely, spoken to strangers from many lands, learned many languages. The world was cruel, cruel because of the deeds of men.

He reached his place of business. A large, well-kept structure in a busy street, its rooms well swept, packed full of papyrus scribbled thick with accounts, well stocked with silver and even gold. His was a prosperous establishment. To some extent, to his credit.

"Ah, Goodman," his partner greeted him. "You have an instinct for when we need you! Two great caravans packed full of spices and silk, just arrived in Mecca this morning. We need someone to manage the stalls. Our younger workers have the brains of slaves and can't manage a bargain or a deal."

"It would be my pleasure," said the Scholar. He was in need of funds for The Cause. Allah had blessed him, as always. "But," he added deferentially, "I may wish assistance from some of my associates. They are honest, and hard workers. There will be no difficulties?"

"Well, Goodman, you're certainly entitled to choose your own staff. I can't say I agree with all your ideas, or those of your 'associates'. But they're certainly no worse than most young men these days. A damn sight better, I'd say."

"We will, of course, insist on fair dealing with customers. Weights and measures must be standard, and well understood by all. No misrepresentation or padding of merchandise. No harrassment of the old or ill to buy what they neither want nor need. I realize this may seem to cost money, but honest dealing means steady customers. We will insist on this. This will be acceptable?"

"Alright Goodman. You've always done your job. That's all that matters."

The Scholar retired to his office. He would need to plan. Always, he had to plan. How to bring in funds, how to manage The Cause, how to train the Faithful. So, he prayed for guidance. Every day, five times a day he prayed for guidance. He had learned to pray from the Jews of Arabia, who were many. He admired their discipline. And their God had protected them, kept them strong, against the greatest empires on earth! This was the learning he sought to infuse into his culture.

There was a commotion in the street. The Scholar passed outside. Rival gangs, as usual, fighting over territory. And Allah save any who came between them! Half a dozen street toughs were systematically beating two older men from a small shop down the street. They screamed demands for gold and silver, while rhythmically and gleefully striking them with their huge fists. Blood and teeth splattered the bright, narrow street like a sun shower. Girls and women gathered about, giggling at the sport, clapping rhythmically to the blows of the fists, their rings and bracelets jingling in time, giving the whole an air of a great, orgiastic, religious festival! Which, it seemed more and more to be, as they sensuously stroked their talismans and amulets, rubbing them against their arms and thighs. The Scholar spoke:

"In the name of Allah the All-Merciful, the All-Knowing, I demand you cease and desist!" his voice carried and echoed through the narrow streets of the city. It was a trick he had learned to out-sell his competitors, in the Bazaars. "You are debauched with lust, violence, greed and wine! You are an offence in the eyes of your Lord, you must cease, or face eternal punishment!"

The members of the gang, a bit the worse for wine, looked startled by his effrontery. They stopped beating the men. Then they focused their attention on the Scholar. One of them, who he recognized from earlier in the day, spoke.

"Well, Professor! I'm not sure we're really in the mood for a lecture, today, thankyou. But, I think we could always use some more exercise!"

The gang began to close on the Scholar. He made no move, he showed no fear. A look of quiet determination played over his face. Almost of serenity.

"Leave him be!" His partner's scimitar flashed in the air. Two of his men flanked him, their swords and teeth glistening in the sun. From both ends of the street, now, could be seen men running, powerful men, well armed, many with words and symbols in Hebrew and Aramaic on their tunics, People of the Book, Followers of the Lord, the Faithful, People of The Cause. The Way. The simple, and better way. The crowd passed like dew on desert sands.

"Well, Goodman, all I can say is, it's a good thing I was here, this time. You're a dreamer. You think too much. And you talk, much too much! Sometimes. Your friends were a bit late, weren't they? If you keep up like this, what's to become of you?"

"We shall see," the Scholar said, quietly.



© Copyright Jerome Raymond Kraus (2007)

Barbarossa

Operation: Reminiscing
Heroism brings 'em in,
Crumbling ferrous hearts of enemies,
Playfully,
Pounding POW's bald heads about.

Winter's shroud,
Painfully searching for shoes,
In trenches,
Worn teeth in rotten meat
Worn out with bloody sunsets
Gnawing the corners of our blankets,
Like chocolate.

Ominous winter orders chill
Frozen coin,
Dying amusingly,
The gift of Fear,
The clouds unfold terrible dawning wounds
Our skies are corroded
By eternal, fresh dawning wounds
By our guns.

Translated from Polish by Jerome Raymond Kraus (2007)
© Copyright Jerome Raymond Kraus (2007)

Les Verts: La Religion et la Philosophie

On peut voir Les Verts comme une unification de la religion et la philosophie. L'intuition, l'empiricisme, le rationalisme s'intégrent pour améliorer la situation humaine en sa totalité -- après tout, qu'est-ce que c'est l'environment sauf que tout l'univers entier ?

Les Chinois en particulier peuvent voir cette relation très clairement en utilisant le pragmatisme du Marxisme comme une sorte du microscope. L'idée centrale du Marxisme c'est d'utiliser la théorie comme moyen pour arriver a les résultats utiles et pratiques. Mais, evidemment, quand les théories deviennent les orthodoxies, on ne peut pas encore voir les faits importants nouveaux. Et, si on n'utilise pas les théories, on n'ait pas aucune direction réelle.

Et, pour les Chinois traditionnels, l'intuition reste très importante. Peut-être, plus importante que tous les deux, les faits de l'empiricisme ou les théories du rationalisme. Toute la science et philosophie traditionelle de la Chine est basée sur l'intuition. Pour exemple, pour la médicine tradionelle chinoise, la mémoire et la pensée ne soient pas localisée dans la cervelle, mais existent et se développent en combinaison avec toutes les autres organes, dans une façon très compliquée et difficile à prédire. Evidemment, c'est le cas pour l'amour !

Les méthodes de l'Occident -- la classification, la logique -- un effort de développer une conception universelle du monde extérieur, ne sont pas d'accord avec la philosophie de l'Est. Pour les Chinois et les gens de l'Inde, le monde intérieur et le monde extérieur sont les mêmes -- il n'existe pas aucune distinction claire entre les deux. Faut comprendre tous, ou on ne peut comprendre rien. Et c'est plus facile de comprendre soi-même que les objets extérieurs. Donc, pour comprendre le monde, faut se comprendre soi-même.

L'individualisme, l'inspiration, chacun à son goût et à son gré sont les bases d'une autre sorte de "logique" plus commune en l'Inde et la Chine que en l'Occident. Mais, en effet, c'est celle-ci la logique des prophètes religieux de Judaïsme et Christianisme, aussi. Et, aussi, c'est ça la logique du maître de l'Inconscient, Sigmund Freud, du monde de la passion, de la sexualité, des rêves, d'une science des rêves. Pour arriver à une vraie science de l'environment en sa totalité, il faut intégrer tous et toutes.