„Ah…“- I can hear you say. “Intimacy… Oh- you mean ‘sex’ then…?”
No-not quite: The problem is that sex is a part of ‘intimacy’- but it’s not the same as intimacy.
Sex is a language- among other things. It’s intended to express things like ‘affection’ and ‘joy’. Although these days, people not only confuse intimacy with sex; they also mistake the language for the message… Not to mention that they mistake babbling for eloquence.
Intimacy goes a bit deeper than ‘skin-deep’: It’s the principle of closeness.
Have you ever read George Orwell’s “Nineteen-Eighty Four”…?
Why do you think the main character in that book- who does a job concerned with constantly re-modelling the past- is completely blind to the fact that the diary he has bought in Mr. Charrington’s pawn-shop has never been written in…?
Who would pass on an empty book...?
Winston Smith never bothers with the fact that in his world, there is no such thing as an old diary… because there is no such thing as an original record of the past.
He’s not exactly a complete idiot… His work requires a certain amount of logical thinking.
But that diary provides him with something not to be gotten in ‘Oceania’- at least not in any normal form or shape.
In that place, men and women can not communicate in any normal way. Parents can not communicate with their children. Neighbours can not communicate with each other.
Since people are not allowed to travel to other parts of the country, they can not communicate with someone from another province.
The different groups in that society don’t really communicate- unless its absolutely necessary.
People are not allowed to learn foreign languages, they are not allowed to have contact with foreigners, and they are not allowed to travel abroad.
Why…? Well- because your wife, your husband, your parents, your neighbours- they could all be enemy agents, saboteurs, members of Goldstein’s secret army… or simply spies for the ‘Thought-Police’.
In that place, there is no such thing as ‘intimacy’- and a diary suddenly takes on an air of closeness not found any other way.
Winston eventually meets Julia- and he makes the same mistake so many people these days make: He confuses ‘intimacy’ with ‘sex’—and he’s just as blind as with the diary.
Julia is an agent of the ‘Thought-Police’… and with that, a member of the ‘Inner Party’ she keeps cursing and swearing about.
Without communication, there can be no love; the isolation in Orwell’s nightmare is so complete that people have practically no choice but to allow the rulers to satisfy their craving for intimacy by way of the only outlet for affection which exists: The figure of ‘Big Brother’.
Being entirely segregated, they become weak: Man is a herd-animal, and strength comes in numbers…
Once each one of them has been placed into a separate box, they can be moulded like dough.
Sounds like a lovely place, no?
Forget about sex: That comes once you’re close enough to someone else. It’s a language- and perhaps the most important form of communication there is (at least if you work on the premise that sexuality happens to be the well-spring of all creativity: without it, there would be no Michelangelo, no Leonardo, no Mozart or Chopin… And no communication at all)
Learn to communicate in every other way first.
By the way- there is something interesting about those three slogans…
WAR IS PEACE---------FREEDOM IS SLAVERY----------IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH
Together, they yield a total of 45 letters which can be re-arranged to form a perfect anagram.
DOMINANCE’S PRICE IS SLAVERY FOR THE SEGREGATES IN WAR
Intimacy has a much lower price… ‘Communication’.
I came across the following poem a while ago; since it's in German, I'll translate it...
Ich möchte euch segnen-
aber ich verfluche eure Kriege, Siege und Niederlagen
und das Wort „Feind“
für ein Land wo Millionen Menschen leben
wie in eurem Land...
Ich segne die wenigen Friedfertigen--
oder sind es viele und nur wenige machen Kriege?
Krüppel machen mich zum Feind der Kriege!
Ich segne jedes Land
I want to bless you-
but I curse your wars, victories and defeats
and the word "Enemy"
for a country where millions live
just like in your own country...
I bless the few peaceful ones--
or are there many and only a few make war?
Cripples make me an enemy of wars!
I bless every country...
One of the fundamental principles of Democracy is the concept of free speech- and here especially the concept of a free press.
Well- I’m an old heretic; questioning all kinds of things comes with the territory…
How free and independent are they- our “free, independent media”?
A few years ago, the following news-item appeared on television here in Ireland.
(One o’clock news bulletin):
“Suicide-attack on a mosque in Iraq; 22 killed… blah-blah-di-blah…”
Video-footage of the aftermath of the attack runs in the background; sound is turned down- microphone of the newscaster is turned up.
(Six o’clock news bulletin):
“Suicide-attack on a mosque in Iraq; 22 killed… blah-blah-di-blah…”
Video-footage of the aftermath of the attack runs in the background again—
But this time, the studio-technicians have turned down the newscaster’s mike… and they have turned up the original sound of the video.
And there he is: The care-taker of the mosque in question—speaking perfect English.
And he explains that “…The first mortar-bomb landed over there (points to his left), and the second mortar-bomb landed over there (points to his right) near the other exit… That’s where most of the people died…”
Now- of course, we could argue that a ‘mortar-bomb’ is by definition a suicide-attacker—
Based on the premise that it blows itself up when it reaches its target. But…somehow it’s just not the same, is it…
We could also ask a few questions as to why the newscaster (who was the studio-editor that day) didn't even get red in the face- but that may be another question altogether. Anyways...
That story actually reminds me of another:
In 2005, police in Basra stopped a car with two Arabs in it. There followed a shoot-out during which two Iraqi policemen were killed. The two occupants of the car were arrested and brought to the Al Jameat police-station.
And those coppers discovered that the two ‘Arabs’ from that car were somehow not at all colour-proof…
They were wearing make-up, had their hair dyed and turned in fact out to be two British SAS-soldiers in drag.
And the police-chief in Basra asked a few very simple questions- like “Why are two British special-forces-soldiers travelling around in a car filled with weapons and explosives- dressed up as Arabs…?”
I would have dearly liked to hear an answer to that question as well; unfortunately the question was never answered.
Instead, the free and independent British press (the part owned by Rupert Murdoch) started to act up- screaming that the politicians had to do something immediately- before the “…corrupt police in Basra who are in league with the insurgents” would sell those two to Al Qaeda- who would then certainly cut off their heads!
Strangely, no one seemed to find it strange that the “corrupt police in Basra who are in league with the insurgents” would stop a car with two people inside who for all those coppers knew at the time- were ARABS… At that point, the colour had not yet started to run!
So it seems completely natural that there is a shoot-out with supposed insurgents- considering that the coppers were in league with aforementioned insurgents…
There is such a thing as mortars fitted with timing-devices; they are used by special-forces-troops, for example.
Once set up, the bloody thing will stand there for hours before firing once the timer has run down. And they are aimed like an artillery-piece.
And people in Iraq?
Well-they happen to live in a culture which includes the vendetta-principle. Naturally, the media never, ever lie…
So, if they are told over and over that “This attack was carried out by the Shiites” and “That attack was done by Sunnies”, they are bound to believe it- sooner or later…
And a civil war means of course that western troops just have to stay there: We wouldn’t want Al Qaeda to get a foot in the door there, would we now.
Honi Soit Qui Mal Y Pense……