A freedom of sorts

There are shades of democracy in countries like Australia, but there is something lacking. Today the leader of the free world (I'm sure Stalin was often described as the leader of the global people's revolution) got on top of our giant soap box to show he cared. There was no way a short speech could ever be particularly enlightening, no matter who was speaking, but the whole event nevertheless caused a whole fuss. According to the mainstream press, the fuss was caused by 'noisy' demonstrators outside Parliament who were banging on their drums and generally getting up to all sorts of anti-social things. No real explanation was given for why people like me might've bothered to turn up (well) outside Parliament House (sans drums or anything of the sort), except, according to some reports, to say that it was an expression of 'anti-American' sentiments. Yet the real fuss caused by President Bush's visit, in my opinion, was the lengths to which the authorities went to ensure that dissent would be stifled. Only a handful of members of the public, those invited by parliamentarians, were allowed into the building to hear Bush speak. The closest anyone else could get was to stand around 100 metres outside. Inside, the son of Mamdoh Habib, one of the Australians imprisoned in Guantanamo Bay, was immediately removed when he got up and tried to ask George Bush what was happening about his father.

And whilst Bush's speech was nothing particularly interesting, there was something quite appropriate about the way our elected representatives responded to his presence. The main opposition party did little more than squirm pleasantries and vent all-too-subtle protests (like Senator Faulkner's constipated, pained, slow-motion handshake with President Bush, or Simon Crean's indirect criticism of the Iraq invasion that ended as quickly as it started). To be sure there was some dissent, indeed the Greens outdid themselves as the moral compass of Australian politics. To me, what was most chilling about the whole event was the chain of events that began when Senator Kerry Nettle interrupted George Bush's speech to protest against the proposed signing of a free-trade agreement between the US and Australia. His response, "I love free speech," was to me, his way of saying "shut the fuck up, be grateful we let you into the building!" It was paternalism of a very terrible kind, and I seriously fear that we are slowly moving ever more towards a kind of political chauvinism that tolerates dissent less and less, and yet praises what little tolerance it does afford more and more. At the same time, dissent is probably stronger now than it has been for a very long time. But people like me tend to console ourselves with the knowledge that, all things being equal, at last we inhabit the moral high ground. Radicals of the heart, conservatives in deed.

Simon Crean's speech was absolutely appalling. I don't think I've ever seen him look so diminished. And yet, I think there is a bit of Simon in a lot of us, particularly those of us who are professionals. There's something rather uncouth about speaking your mind, particularly when you are wearing a suit, and are surrounded by people who are also wearing suits (which are generally of the same colour, not to mention gender although I've heard things are changing. Apparently you can even find black, female Republicans). So we generally don't voice outrage. We learn to couch things in a sensible manner. We get accustomed to being treated sensibly too. So, for example, if I go and shout at the top of my lungs that people are dying daily in the West Bank I will look like a total fool. I will look like a total fool because my outburst would look out of place in my social environment. Although fires may be ravaging over there, over here (wherever here is), things are calm and balmy. An outburst would therefore be inappropriate or impolite.

But even in the most respectable of settings things can get nasty. It got nasty for Senators Nettle and Brown. It appears that some Liberal parliamentarians stopped the two senators from confronting George Bush when he was leaving the House of Reps, one even telling Kerry Nettle to 'die'. There's a fantastic photo attached to Margo Kingston's report in today's online SMH showing some pollies blocking Nettle's way, with Howard holding the breach. Check this link, you'll soon see what I mean.

http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2003/10/23/1066631547601.html

I realise it is very easy for most any photo to be symbolic, but to me this photo is fantastically symbolic of the way liberal democracies work. It also captures Howard perfectly. This man with a goofy-friendly middle-class exterior stretching his arms out, assuring us he's basically a decent kinda guy (he's even clean-shaven and the glasses make him look too geeky to be cruel), whilst the rough stuff happens behind his back. By the way, when I say behind his back, think 'plausible deniability'. Think SIEV-X. Think Iraq.

We don't live in a democracy. There certainly are mechanisms that resemble democracy in our society, and I am awfully grateful for these things. Many of us, dare I say everyone reading this page, are privileged persons. There's no denying this basic fact. Nor should it cause guilt.

Anyone who expects the political life of a community to be anything other than static cannot deny that our political life is dying. The question then begs to be asked: how do we breath life into it? How do we make people like Mr Bush accountable?
- posted by syed-m @ 1:59 AM

 
The year is passing as I bide my time

Sometimes you knowing something without ever consciously acknowledging its existence. This morning, I finally realised that I have been guilty of biding my time. I've been biding my time hoping for some mythical, mystical carthasis to land on my head like a seagull poo, and it's time I realised the utter fantasy of such expectations.

Since January, I've been following a robotic schedule of endless working weeks and chilled-out weekends. Living where I do, life revolves around work, and I lack the proactivity to do much else. When you come home tired from work, putting effort into your spare time activities seems to be missing the point. In the mean time, deep down, I've been waiting for opportunities to come to me. The most emblematic of this phenomenon has been the expectation that somehow the awkward sexual tension between me and a colleague in the office would grow into love, a fulfilling relationship, and long term partnering. Nothing lasting or organic has grown out of that situation. As I have explained somewhat in a previous entry, that is one example that is close to dead, albeit that there are occasions when I have to remind myself of that.

Despite such progress, in many ways I feel I have wasted the past 4-5 months daydreaming and burning mental energy about someone, and something that doesn't really exist. My daised conscience is most certainly the byproduct of living in Canberra, the kind of place that fosters obsessive thoughts in single men living in quiet suburbs.

Despite all that, Canberra is in many ways the perfect place for me. In just under 7 days I have seen ambassadors speak on the world geopolitical order, sat adjacent to the head of the Australian Federal Police at a local restaurant as I bitched about the War on Terrorism (and quite unconsciously), and organised to meet members of the UN High Commission for Refugees in Pakistan through a friend who works in the organisation's Canberra office. In short, there are plenty of opportunities out here. The onus is on me to go find them, rather than to mull around expecting things, as though doors will just naturally open because it is me knocking outside. That could mean quitting my job some time in the not too distant future.
- posted by syed-m @ 3:23 AM

 
Mortal, oh so mortal

Forgive me father for I have sinned - I have not blogged in an eternity, and not for want of activity in my personal life. A great deal has happened since my last entry, and I am currently in two minds as to the appropriate manner in which to convey the story(ies). I suppose the easiest method is to simply roll with it, close my eyes (and yes type at the same time...) and say bismillah (Arabic for god bless). So gather round the camp fire kids and I'll tell you some interesting stories (and you, pretty little thing, why not sit on Uncle Syed-M's lap... whoops, day dreaming again!).

For 4 months now I've been in love with someone I work with. Now it's fair to say that I am generally skeptical of the notion of love. It's an unfalsifiable phenomenon that is usually more desirable in thought than in reality. Be that as it may, there was something, some sort of alignment of the planets, that attracted me to this person in ways that goes beyond a mere crush. I'll leave the detailed explanation for it to one side. It's strange when you fall for someone who work with, when you have to walk passed their room every time you need to go somewhere substantial - the exit, the bathroom, the kitchen. It's even stranger when you sense that they too have feelings for you, but are almost cruelly 'suppressing' those feelings, muting themselves. It can all be very confusing. I still remember pretty much exactly when I fell in love with this office colleague. I went to her birthday lunch in Sydney in May, and eventually ended up being the only guy amongst 8 girls checking out the boy band playing at the front of the joint. Whilst I was bored, I didn't want to go because the scenery was pleasing to my eye. Plus I was drunk. I can drink very quickly. As a consequence, whenever I am bored at a party, I have the tendency to get typsy very quickly as I chronically and unconsciously sip at my beverage.

So eventually it became dark, and we ended up at the Townhall steps. We were both moving off to other parties. I was waiting for a friend. She was waiting for me to find my friend so she could leave. When my friend arrived, with astonishing foresight, he asked her to join us for a drinks session at a very sexy pub known to be almost exclusively inhabited by drunks who like the hounddoggies and happen to remember the last time indigenous people could not vote in this country.

Man this story is getting long in the tooth, and frankly, even I am getting bored of it. Suffice it to say that by the end of the night, in my opinion (at the time) two conditions had been met:

a) this chick was really great
b) I think she liked me too (You can really tell I have a powerful romantic streak. To all the doubters, and with respect, fuck yous all!).

Back at work following that weekend, I muscled the courage to go to her room - an entire 5 metres from my own - and ask her out on a date. Her response: 'Sorry I can't make it on that day.'

My heart sank. My face sank. My bottom probably sank a little too. It was so bizarre. I'm certain I was wearing a puppy dog frown. And yet at the same time my rational, conscious mind was wondering why her 'rejection' manifested such a strong, and overtly negative reaction in me. For the next week or so we were elusive towards each other. And ever since then, there has always been a bit of an edge in our office interactions. All very sad really, especially since my life already has enough histrionics, and my job is perhaps my most solid foundation these days.

Eventually, we did go out. We went clubbing in perhaps the most tragic clubbing scene amongst world national capitals - Canberra! By the end of the night, which ended around 6am, I told her how I felt. She told me she found me attractive, but did not have the same strength of feelings that I had expressed for her. Mind you, this did not stop her from kissing me, and so on... So you have to wonder what precisely the occasion actually meant.

In many ways the event has helped clear some things up. I'm nevertheless in two minds as to whether or not I should chase her. I have chased girls before, and believe you me it was a horrible experience. I have sought the counsel of many a soul, and all have concluded one thing - she is not for you. Despite such advice, a part of me really wants her to want me as much as I want her. And this little space of my grey matter has convinced me that I can convince her.

Only time will tell how this episode will play out. In the mean time, it's time to contemplate Plan B which, for the moment, will remain off the airwaves.

As the French are want to say: fuck I hate romantic inclinations!!!
- posted by syed-m @ 2:49 AM