donderdag 24 december 2015

Robert Long..... Jezus redt, redt Jezus uit de goot!





Een hele scherpe, kritische tekst in het lied van Robert Long, Jezus redt!
Maar..... in de laatste zin schuilt veel waarheid, voor wie er gevoelig voor is.

Het is als met de aforismen van Nietzsche. Eerst schopt hij tegen vele heilige huisjes aan, om uiteindelijk dusdanig te eindigen, dat hij je op het andere been zet.

Ik voeg er verder niets aan toe, behalve:
Goede kerstdagen gewenst en
sterkte voor mensen, die het helemaal niet zo gemakkelijk hebben deze dagen!





Robert Long - Jezus Redt

Couplet 1:
Toen 't christendom op aarde kwam en ieder mens het recht ontnam om zo te leven als hij dacht dat goed was.
En heel de aardkorst dik bevlekt met bloed was.
Werd het meteen de hoogste tijd dat heidenen na zware strijd door legers door de kerk geleid van hun cultuur werden bevrijd!

Couplet 2:
Dat hield men eeuwen lang in stand vol liefde werd de rechterhand van dieven, slaven, kinderen en vrouwen. Als zij één misstap deden afgehouwen!
Men zorgde voor een schuldcomplex wanneer je rondliep met iets geks of je te buiten ging aan seks je stond al snel bekend als heks!

Refrein:
Jezus redt! Jezus redt! Alle mensen opgelet! Jezus redt! Jezus redt! Enkel door 't gebed!

Couplet 3:
Soms wordt een land vol hongersnood bezocht door weer zo'n vrome kloot, die steeds dezelfde ouwe kool komt stoven.
En roept vanuit zijn draagstoel: 'Blijft geloven!'
Die zegenend naar mensen zwaait, voor ieder lijk zijn hoofd omdraait, elk argument van tafel maait en steeds opnieuw de mensen paait!

Couplet 4:
Al jaren gaan er stemmen op voor pil en voor geboortenstop, maar Rome weigert steeds om te beperken.
Dat zou de zedeloosheid maar versterken!
Elk recht wordt u nog steeds betwist en seks blijf steeds de anti-christ hij die door zijn orgaan slechts pist heeft steeds voor duizenden beslist!

Refrein:
Jezus redt! Jezus redt! Alle mensen opgelet! Jezus redt! Jezus redt! Enkel door 't gebed!

Couplet 5:
Maar kijk men is veranderd want rooms-katholiek en protestant begonnen toch hun grip al te verliezen. 
Men moest dus wel een and're koers gaan kiezen!
Men was geweldig in zijn sas want wat ontdekte men al ras toen men nog eens de bijbel las dat Jezus ook een hippie was!

Couplet 6:
De wereld kraakt aan alle kant en grote delen staan in brand, je zou dus zeggen: 'Helpt het onheil weren, gehuichel moesten wij de rug toekeren.
Maar niets daarvan vergeet het maar! 't Is Boeddha hier, Jehova daar, men draaft getuigend door elkaar en heeft de oplossing al klaar!

Refrein:
Jezus redt! Jezus redt! Alle mensen opgelet! Jezus redt! Jezus redt! Enkel door 't gebed!

Het is maar al te waar helaas: de paus, de kerstman, sinterklaas, zij zijn al eeuwen lang de baas en eeuwen lang al even dwaas!

Refrein:
Jezus redt! Jezus redt! Alle mensen uit de dood! Jezus! Redt Jezus! Redt Jezus uit de goot!

donderdag 17 december 2015

Beethoven was even zijn tijd ver vooruit.....!


Vandaag of gisteren, in 1770, werd Ludwig Beethoven geboren, in Bonn.

Toen Beethoven Sonate no. 32 op.111 schreef, is er in hem een moment geweest, waarin hij even zijn tijd ver vooruit was.
Hij werkte in het tweede deel toe, naar een verandering van stijl. Het ingetogen, intens diep bewogen stuk, verandert in het 2de deel naar een soort muziek, die je zou kunnen vergelijken met ragtime, boogie-woogie, jazz en toch gaat deze vergelijking meteen weer mank.
Maar Beethoven laat zich even helemaal gaan, komt los van zichzelf, stijgt boven zichzelf uit, Beethoven swingt, om daarna terug te keren naar de ingetogenheid van het begin.
Even was er het moment van loskomen van alles wat een mens bindt aan de aarde, aan leven en dood, aan zijn tijd!



Leefse
Aleke (Aaltje).

woensdag 16 december 2015

Een winterse dag.... en vinterdag!



Het knisperde
Det knastrade
  


glinsterde
gnistrande
twinkelde
twinklade
En het was stil en wit vandaag!
Och det var tyst och vitt idag!

Leefse
Aleke/Aaltje.

donderdag 3 december 2015

Mens durf te leven.....




(Een liedtekst van Dirk Witte uit 1917)
Je leeft maar heel kort,
Maar een enkele keer.
En als je straks anders wilt kun je niet meer.
Mens, durf te leven.
Vraag niet elke dag,
van je korte bestaan.
Hoe hebben m’n pa of mijn grootpa ‘t gedaan.
Hoe doet ‘t m’n neef of hoe doet ‘t m’n vriend.
En wie weet hoe of dat dan de buurman weer vindt.
En wat heeft het fatsoen voor geschreven.
Mens, durf te leven.
De mensen bepalen de kleur van je das,
De vorm van je boek,
En de snit van je jas.
En van je leven.
Ze wijzen de paadjes waar langs je mag gaan.
En ze roepen: ‘door, door’ als je even blijft staan.
Ze kiezen je toekomst, ze kiezen je werk.
En ze zoeken een kroeg voor je uit en een kerk,
En wat je aan de armen moet geven.
Mens, is dat leven ?
De mensen ze schrijven je leefregels voor,
Ze geven je raad en ze roepen in koor :
Zo, moet je leven.
Met die mag je omgaan,
Maar die ? Die is te link.
En die moet je trouwen al heb je geen zin.
En daar moet je wonen dat eist je fatsoen.
En je wordt genegeerd als je ‘t anders zou doen.
Alsof je iets ergs had misdreven.
Mens, is dat leven ?
Het leven is heerlijk,
Het leven is mooi.
Maar vlieg uit in de lucht,
En kruip niet in een kooi.
Mens, durf te leven.
Met je kop in de hoogte,
En neus in de wind.
En lap aan je laars
Wat een ander dan vindt.
Houd een hart vol van warmte,
En van liefde in je borst.
Maar wees op je vierkante meter een vorst.
Wat je zoekt kan geen ander je geven.
Mens, durf te leven.
Mens, durf te leven.


Leefse
Aleke!

maandag 23 november 2015

Mijn boek is klaar: WAARSCHUWING!!!



Ja, mijn boek is nu klaar!!!


Voor wie is dit boek?
Voor mijzelf, in eerste instantie als therapie, om uit de schuld en schaamte te stappen.
Tot ik begreep, voor mij is het goed, maar wellicht heeft een ander/anderen er óók wat aan.
Welke anderen?

Eerst een WAARSCHUWING!!!
Mijn boek is er niet voor degene die een mening hebben en deze mening NIET willen toetsen.
Niet voor degene die alles al over sekten menen te weten en daar zgn. klaar mee zijn.
Niet voor hen, die vinden dat verslaafden sukkels zijn. En dan onder verslavingen laten vallen: drank, drugs, sigaretten, enzovoorts!
Niet voor hen die vinden dat de mens schuldig is en geneigd tot alle kwaad.
Ook niet voor degen die zich NIET kunnen verplaatsten in de omstandigheid, dat een vrouw in een zwakke positie, niet in handen kan geraken van een gewone loverboy, maar een religieuze, plat gezegd, met de bijbel in de ene hand en een seksboek in de andere.
En wanneer je als hulpzoekende, als patiënt, als lijdende, niet meer op een geestelijke kunt vertrouwen, dan moet daartegen gewaarschuwd worden. Des te meer, omdat een geestelijke, op grond van de godsdienstvrijheid, nooit voor de rechter komt, dat is het grote verschil met iedere andere hulpverlener.
Zelfs normaal aanspreekbare moederliefde verdwijnt en een vrouw kan worden als wat er met mij is gebeurd en dan is het kwaad, de gevolgschade, mogelijk nog lang na een langdurige therapie= genezingsproces, aanwezig. In mijn geval is dat zo.
Niet voor hen, die vinden dat zij die misbruikt zijn, zelf de schuldigen zijn.

Ik ga mijzelf niet verdedigen d.m.v.mijn boek. Dat is niet mijn opzet.
Het gaat mij NIET om het aanwijzen van schuldigen, maar om het openbreken van het systeem: "Vrijheid van godsdienst", die excessen mogelijk maken.
Niet iedereen zal het met me eens zijn.
Dan is dat maar zo!
Daarnaast wil ik het patroon doorbreken, dat, als je eenmaal zelf slachtoffer bent geweest, je mond moet blijven houden.

Als je als moeder zijnde, je kleine kinderen verlaat, voor een geloofswaan, waar je op dat moment geen weet van hebt, dan is de toon al gauw gezet en is het een kleine stap naar veroordeling en vormen zich vooroordelen.
Mijn boek zal daarin geen verandering brengen. Meningen, vooroordelen laten zich zelden wijzigen.
Dan is dat maar zo!
Er zijn genoeg andere boeken waarin mensen zich wél herkennen en liever gesterkt worden in hun eigen (vastgeroeste) mening, dan zich af te vragen, dat er zich zaken afspelen, die anders gaan dan: "Hoe heurt het eigenlijk?!".

Sommigen zullen vinden dat ik het slachtoffer wil spelen, of volgens zogenaamde psychologische prietpraat, de slachtofferrol aanneem.
Dan heeft men er niets van begrepen of beter gezegd, niets van willen begrijpen.
En tja, waar geen wil is ben je weg!
Dan is dat maar zo!

Maar, degene die de moed missen naar een ander te luisteren, in dit geval naar mij, lopen veel kans voor een sterke persoonlijkheid te worden versleten!

Nee, dit boek is niet voor iedereen geschreven.
Dan is het zonde om er geld aan uit te geven.

Nou, nou, blijft er nog een mens over die mijn boek WEL naar waarde weet te schatten?
Dat zal blijken.
Dit boek is er voor de enkeling:
Degene die bereid is, de ander te zien, te luisteren!
Naar verhalen van mensen die soortgelijke ervaringen hebben gehad!

Het boek is NIET voor degene die geen vragen meer hebben, slechts nog leven met antwoorden, hun eigen antwoorden.

EN..... het boek is WEL geschreven voor de kinderen van sekteslachtoffers, die ongewild en ongevraagd slachtoffer zijn en zelden of nooit gehoord worden.
Ook denk ik aan familieleden van sekteslachtoffers.

Mocht je toch de soepelheid van geest hebben, om i.i.g. open te staan voor mijn boek, dan begrijp je wellicht deze onchristelijke woorden:
"Jij bent OOK onschuldig!".

Leefse
Aaltje/ Aleke!

Op mijn andere blog: alsgeloofeengevangeniswordt.blogspot.com
schrijf ik meer artikelen die over dit onderwerp gaan.



donderdag 19 november 2015

maandag 2 november 2015

Trelleborg-Travemünde


Nu heb ik al heel wat keren de oversteek: Trelleborg-Travemünde gemaakt.
En iedere keer weer opnieuw, blijf ik voor deze foto staan, die in een gang hangt en bekijk ik deze prachtige situatie. Gespeeld of niet, het spreekt boekdelen:
"Zij vindt het leuk, al die aandacht, maar doet net of het haar niets doet".
Of misschien heeft zij er nog andere gedachten bij! Hoe dan ook, een foto met verschillende invalshoeken, dus niet éénduidig.
En dan die verschillende uitdrukkingen van die mannen, jong en oud. Ik geniet er steeds weer van en heb er de volgende uitdrukking voor:
"Esprit Francais"!

I made the voyage from Trelleborg-Travemünde several times and every time, I can't pass this picture, without taking a look.
What a fine French impression!

Leefse
Keep alive
Aleke!

vrijdag 23 oktober 2015

Havet!


Trelleborg: Vänta på färjan och resan till Nederländerna!

Leva
Aleke!

woensdag 21 oktober 2015

A change on my blog!



Since half a year, I write on my blog articels about several items, mostly my thoughts about political philosophy, music and photos.

Now I start a new blog into Dutch, about dogmatically religion and abuse within it.
As long as religion, belief is doing yourself good, let it so. We all need something to believe in.
As soon as it makes you to a slave or hurts you, or it becomes an addiction, it is wrong. In my opinion, it can't be tolerated.

I became a victim of wrong belief. I have been a member of two several christian cults, in total 17 years.
In both cases I decided to leave those groups on my own.
It took a lot of time, to understand, that not I was guilty, wrong, but that the system, freedom of religion, is wrong.

After I had left the last cult, I met my husband. Thanks to his knowledge and love for me, it was possible for me to heal. But I also experienced, that I could not talk about it, in the society, with people around me. That makes you feel lonely.
I wrote a book about those years, into Dutch and soon this book will be ready.

I will continue this blog.
Till now, I don't know how I will do this. Political issues, music, photos, about Småland/Sweden?!
The label ( as if) will dissapear.
www.alsgeloofeengevangeniswordt.blogspot.com
(to translate in: if religion becomes a prison).

Albert Schweitzer said once:
"The only escape from the miseries of life, are music and cats.....!"
Life is for me not a misery, but sometimes tough!
But Albert, we have a grand piano and our cat Isabo, so.....!!!


Keep alive
Aleke!

P.S. English is not my native language!

Verandering..... !


Ruim een half jaar geleden ben ik begonnen, met enige regelmaat een artikel op mijn blog te plaatsen, een foto of muziek te delen.
In de tussentijd heb ik aan mijn boek gewerkt: "Als geloof een gevangenis wordt, dan.....", dat ik in eigen beheer uitgeef.
Binnenkort ga ik voor enige tijd naar Nederland en hoop daar mijn eerste exemplaar bij de drukkerij te mogen ontvangen!

In mijn boek beschrijf ik mijn persoonlijke verhaal, wat dogmatisch geloof voor schade aan kan richten. Bij mij was dat het geval. Ik heb me vrij moeten vechten om mij van allerlei manipulaties, indoctrinaties en aangepraatte hersenspinsels los te maken.
Ik heb in de afgelopen 12 jaar gemerkt, dat over misbruik binnen geloofsgemeenschappen niet gesproken wordt. Ja, "men" heeft overal een mening over, maar de wérkelijke verhalen worden te weinig gehoord of aandacht aan geschonken. Dat maakt je eenzaam en helpt niet bepaald om te genezen.
Gelukkig heb ik mijn man, die ik heb leren kennen, nadat ik zelf uit de laatste kerkgemeenschap op eigen kracht was "ontsnapt"! Door onze uitvoerige, lange, ontelbaar vele gesprekken en zijn kennis en geduld, liefde, ben ik gaan inzien, dat niet Ik fout was, schuldig was, maar dat het systeem niet deugt. Het systeem, de vrijheid van godsdienst, maakt het mogelijk dat misstanden binnen geloof kunnen blijven voortbestaan.
Zolang geloof je goed doet, laat het dan zo. We hebben als mens allemaal iets nodig om in te geloven. Maar zodra het je schade toebrengt, is het een andere zaak, dat mág niet toegelaten worden.

Mijn nieuwe blog: www.alsgeloofeengevangeniswordt.blogspot.com wil ik een platform laten zijn voor verhalen, een plek waar gedeeld en geluisterd kan worden.

Mijn huidige, dit blog dus, heb ik nu iets veranderd: de toevoeging "Alsof en meer", heb ik verwijderd.
Dit blog wil ik blijven voortzetten, maar ik weet nog niet helemaal hoe.
Af en toe muziek, foto's uit Småland/Zweden of elders. Af en toe een kritische noot over gebeurtenissen in de wereld. Af en toe Nederlands of Engels, soms Zweeds.
Het label "alsof het goed was, krijgt geen vervolg, dit deel verhuist naar mijn nieuwe blog.

Mijn eerste artikel eindigde ik met de titel van een boek van de Noorse schrijver Knut Hamsun: "Hoe het groeide". Het leven is groeien.
Ooit kwam ik de volgende uitspraak tegen van Albert Schweitzer: "Er bestaan maar twee manieren om te ontsnappen aan de triestheid van het bestaan: muziek en katten". Nou zo triest ervaar ik het leven niet, maar af en toe wel taai.
Gelukkig hebben wij onze poes: Isabo én een vleugel, waarop veel gemusiceerd wordt door ons. Dus Albert, wij doen ons best, te ontsnappen aan de triestheid van het bestaan!

Voor kritische Nederlandstalige artikelen, wil ik de aandacht vestigen op en daarmee aanbevelen:
www.deazijnpisser.blogspot.com
www.blikopnosjournaal.blogspot.com
www.doorbraak.eu
www.globalinfo.nl

Op zowel Nederlands en Engelstalig:
www.boublog.nl
www.stanvanhoucke.blogspot.com

En natuurlijk zijn er nog veel meer goed sites.

Veel leesplezier!


Leefse
Aaltje (Aleke)!

dinsdag 20 oktober 2015

Eugene V. Debs..... Oktober 20, 1926

Eugene V. Debs, bw photo portrait, 1897.jpg

Eugene V. Debs (November 5, 1855- Oktober20. 1926)


In the book "Prison memoirs of an anarchist", I read about Eugene V. Debs and    I mean, a quote from him: 
Your Honor, years ago I recognized my kinship with all living beings, and I made up my mind that I was not one bit better than the meanest on earth. I said then, and I say now, that while there is a lower class, I am in it, and while there is a criminal element I am of it, and while there is a soul in prison, I am not free. (taken from www.marxists.org)



"As long as there is one soul in prison, I am not free!"
Those words, had a deep meaning to me.
Long time ago, when I was younger, I heard on the radio, someone asking, 'What does freedom means to you".
Also I thought about that and spontanely came in my thoughts: 'As long as one person is not free, I am not free'.
I couldn't do anything with it, I didn't understand my own thoughts. 
After reading this quote from Eugene Debs, I understood him and myself, it is a deep religious awareness!

Something to think about!

Keep alive
Aleke!

zondag 18 oktober 2015

Hanns Eisler.....Mein Sohn!



File:Bundesarchiv Bild 183-19204-2132, Berlin, Bertolt Brecht und Hanns Eisler.jpg
Hanns Eisler and Bertolt Brecht.

This week I heard a song from Hanns Eisler (1898- 1962):
 "Mein Sohn, was immer auch aus dir werde".

The whole week I heard it again and again in my mind, so here it is!
On internet, there is a lot to find about him. What I understand about is, that he composed music with a story in it, to tell what was happening with the common people and the war, the workers, the struggle for life for the poor, for the human-being.
His music was a call to wake up, also this song from a mother to her baby: 'What will happen with you, when you grow up? Take care and hold together with your same thinking people, don't go in with the war!'.

Afgelopen week hoorde ik dit lied, gezongen door Hadewych Minis. Daarna bleef het in mijn gedachten telkens weer opduiken.
Wie was Hanns Eisler?
Op internet is veel over hem te lezen. Wat ik van hem begrijp, is, dat hij muziek wilde schrijven en dat ook heeft gedaan, om gevoelens uit te drukken. Gevoelens die de oorlog opriep, gevoelens van gewone mensen, met hun zorgen en angsten, van de arbeiders, de armen, van de gehele mensheid.
Zijn muziek was een oproep om wakker te worden, zo ook in dit lied van een moeder aan haar baby: 'Wat zal er met jou gebeuren, wanneer je opgroeit? Er staat je een gruwelijk leven te wachten; ik heb je niet gebaard om rond te hangen en bij de "voedselopvang" jouw tijd te verlummelen, of s'nachts onder de bruggen te slapen, of in het prikkeldraad vast te zitten en  om water te smeken. Laat me je raden, dat je bij je gelijkgestemden blijft, waardoor de macht van de anderen verdampt'.

Leefse
Aleke!



 Das Archiv der Arbeiterbewegung.
----------------------------------------­------------

Mein Sohn, was immer auch aus dir werde:
Sie steh'n mit Knüppeln bereit schon jetzt.
Denn für dich, mein Sohn, ist auf dieser Erde
Nur der Schuttablagerungsplatz da, und der ist besetzt.

Mein Sohn laß es dir von deiner Mutter sagen:
Auf dich wartet ein Leben schlimmer als die Pest,
Aber sie hat dich nicht dazu ausgetragen,
Daß du dir das einmal ruhig gefallen läßt.

Was du nicht hast, das gib nicht verloren,
Was sie dir nicht geben, sieh' zu, daß du's kriegst.
Denn deine Mutter hat dich nicht geboren,
Daß du einst des Nachts unter Brückenbögen liegst.

Vielleicht bist du nicht aus besonderem Stoffe,
Ich habe nicht Geld für dich noch Gebet
Und ich baue auf dich allein, wenn ich hoffe,
Daß du nicht am Stempelstellen lungerst und deine Zeit vergeht.

Wenn ich nachts schlaflos neben dir liege,
Fühl ich oft nach deiner kleinen Faust.
Sicher, sie planen mit dir jetzt schon Kriege.
Was soll ich nur machen, daß du nicht ihren dreckigen Lügen traust.

Deine Mutter, mein Sohn, hat dich nicht belogen,
Daß du etwas ganz besonderes seist;
Aber sie hat dich auch nicht mit Kummer aufgezogen,
Daß du einmal im Stacheldraht hängst und nach Wasser schreist.

Mein Sohn, drum halte dich an deinesgleichen,
Damit ihre Macht wie ein Staub zerstiebt.
Du, mein Sohn, und ich und alle unsresgleichen
Müssen zusammensteh'n und müssen erreichen,
Daß es auf dieser Welt nicht mehr zweierlei Menschen gibt.

www.kampflieder.de

Joe Hill, born 7 oktober 1879



Today I was thinking about Joe Hill, born in Sweden, with the name Joel Emmanuel Hägglund.
At the end of the day, I was looking in google about Joe Hill and I noticed, that just this day, 7 oktober, was his birthday in 1879.
Joe Hill, was a labor activist and killed by the authorities of the United States  on 19 november 1915!

Now, I only want to share this song ;"Joe Hill", singing by Paul Robenson!

Lyrics:

I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
Alive as you and me.
Says I "But Joe, you're ten years dead"
"I never died" says he,
"I never died" says he.
In Salt lake city, Joe says I, in standing by my bed
"They framed you on a murder charge"
Says Joe "but I ain't dead"
Says Joe "but I ain't dead"
"The Copper Bosses killed you Joe,
They shot you Joe" says I.
"Takes more than guns to kill a man"
Says Joe "I didn't die"
Says Joe "I didn't die"
And standing there as big as life

And smiling with his eyes.
Says Joe "What they can never kill
Went on to organize,
Went on to organize"
From San Diego up to Maine,
In every mine and mill,
Where workers fight and organize,
It's there you find Joe Hill,
It's there you find Joe Hill!
I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,
Alive as you and me.
Says I "But Joe, you're ten years dead"
"I never died" said he,
"I never died" said he. 


---
Keep alive
Aleke!

vrijdag 16 oktober 2015

Religie als drug!



Toen ik, lang geleden inmiddels, een fundamentalistische christen was, nam aanbidding in de vorm van gebed en zang, een grote plaats in. In de zaal of welke ruimte dan ook, werd je welkom geheten met muziek, het bracht je zogezegd in een stemming. Nu zou ik zeggen, een "godsdienstshow".
Voor iemand die dit niet heeft meegemaakt, is dit moeilijk voor te stellen. Als je er midden in zit, wil je niets liever, dan..... doorgaan! En de volgende zondag weer, daarna opnieuw en nogmaals.....
Deze video laat heel duidelijk zien, hoe deze aanbiddingszang werkt als een drug. Het maakt je verslaafd aan de sfeer. Het voelt zo lekker. Je komt in een trance. Maar je hebt niet in de gaten dat het je geest vertroebelt. Je ratio, je helder denkvermogen, verdwijnt. Het wordt een schijngestalte. Het verslaafd raken, maakt je tot een slaaf. Je ziet het ook aan de beelden van deze video: liggen, knielen, handen in de lucht of geopend, smekend en een Jezusfiguur die de hand naar je uitstrekt, uitnodigend, om je aan hem te geven.
Maar aan wie geef je je? Aan een onzichtbare Jezus, ja, maar ondertussen staat de leiding van de kerk klaar, eveneens met uitgestoken handen en dogmatische, indoctrinerende preken, om je afhankelijk te maken van hen en je tienden te betalen (10% van je maandelijkse inkomen, liefst van het bruto bedrag).
Door te dienen word je een bedelaar!
Maar doordat je niet meer helder kunt denken, uitsluitend de termen spreekt die bij dit geloof horen en omdat je niet alleen bent, maar met veel meer mensen dit geloof belijdt, besef je niet, dat je een slaaf bent.
EEN SLAAF IN HET GELOOF!
EEN SLAAF VAN EEN RELIGIEUS SYSTEEM!



Maar let wel:
GELOOF IS EEN OFFICIEEL GOEDGEKEURDE DRUG!
En het is verdomd moeilijk daarvan te genezen!

P.s Op mijn blog onder het label: "Alsof" het goed was, schrijf ik af en toe iets over deze periode.

Leefse
Aleke

woensdag 7 oktober 2015

Ömhet i hösten!



Hösten ger också ömhet

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zaterdag 3 oktober 2015

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dinsdag 29 september 2015

Emile Zola..... I accuse!


Emile Zola (2 april 1840) died on 29 september 1902!
On my blog his letter: "J'accuse"

Emile Zola 1898
Emile Zola

Letter to the President of the Republic

I accuse!


SourceChameleon Translations;
First PublishedL’Aurore, 13 January 1898.

Sir,
Would you allow me, grateful as I am for the kind reception you once extended to me, to show my concern about maintaining your well-deserved prestige and to point out that your star which, until now, has shone so brightly, risks being dimmed by the most shameful and indelible of stains?
Unscathed by vile slander, you have won the hearts of all. You are radiant in the patriotic glory of our country’s alliance with Russia, you are about to preside over the solemn triumph of our World Fair, the jewel that crowns this great century of labour, truth, and freedom. But what filth this wretched Dreyfus affair has cast on your name - I wanted to say ‘reign’ -. A court martial, under orders, has just dared to acquit a certain Esterhazy, a supreme insult to all truth and justice. And now the image of France is sullied by this filth, and history shall record that it was under your presidency that this crime against society was committed.
As they have dared, so shall I dare. Dare to tell the truth, as I have pledged to tell it, in full, since the normal channels of justice have failed to do so. My duty is to speak out; I do not wish to be an accomplice in this travesty. My nights would otherwise be haunted by the spectre of the innocent man, far away, suffering the most horrible of tortures for a crime he did not commit.
And it is to you, Sir, that I shall proclaim this truth, with all the force born of the revulsion of an honest man. Knowing your integrity, I am convinced that you do not know the truth. But to whom if not to you, the first magistrate of the country, shall I reveal the vile baseness of the real guilty parties?
The truth, first of all, about Dreyfus’ trial and conviction:
At the root of it all is one evil man, Lt. Colonel du Paty de Clam, who was at the time a mere Major. He is the entire Dreyfus case, and the entirety of it will only come to light when an honest enquiry firmly establishes his actions and responsibilities. He appears to be the shadiest and most complex of creatures, spinning outlandish intrigues, stooping to the deceits of cheap thriller novels, complete with stolen documents, anonymous letters, meetings in deserted spots, mysterious women scurrying around at night, peddling damning evidence. He was the one who came up with the scheme of dictating the text of the bordereau to Dreyfus; he was the one who had the idea of observing him in a mirror-lined room. And he was the one that Major Forzinetti caught carrying a shuttered lantern that he planned to throw open on the accused man while he slept, hoping that, jolted awake by the sudden flash of light, Dreyfus would blurt out his guilt.
I need say no more: let us seek and we shall find. I am stating simply that Major du Paty de Clam, as the officer of justice charged with the preliminary investigation of the Dreyfus case, is the first and the most grievous offender in the ghastly miscarriage of justice that has been committed.
The bordereau had already been for some time in the hands of Colonel Sandherr, Head of the Intelligence Office, who has since died of a paralytic stroke. Information was ‘leaked’, papers were disappearing, then as they continue to do to this day; and, as the search for the author of the bordereau progressed, little by little, an a priori assumption developed that it could only have come from an officer of the General Staff, and furthermore, an artillery officer. This interpretation, wrong on both counts, shows how superficially the bordereau was analysed, for a logical examination shows that it could only have come from an infantry officer.
So an internal search was conducted. Handwriting samples were compared, as if this were some family affair, a traitor to be sniffed out and expelled from within the War Office. And, although I have no desire to dwell on a story that is only partly known, Major du Paty de Clam entered on the scene as soon as the slightest suspicion fell upon Dreyfus. From that moment on, he was the one who ‘invented’ Dreyfus the traitor, the one who orchestrated the whole affair and made it his own. He boasted that he would confuse him and make him confess all. Oh, yes, there was of course the Minister of War, General Mercier, a man of apparently mediocre intellect; and there were also the Chief of Staff, General de Boisdeffre, who appears to have yielded to his own religious bigotry, and the Deputy Chief of Staff, General Gonse, whose conscience allowed for many accommodations. But, at the end of the day, it all started with Major du Paty de Clam, who led them on, hypnotised them, for, as an adept of spiritualism and the occult, he conversed with spirits. Nobody would ever believe the experiments to which he subjected the unfortunate Dreyfus, the traps he set for him, the wild investigations, the monstrous fantasies, the whole demented torture.
Ah, that first trial! What a nightmare it is for all who know it in its true details. Major du Paty de Clam had Dreyfus arrested and placed in solitary confinement. He ran to Mme Dreyfus, terrorised her, telling her that, if she talked, that was it for her husband. Meanwhile, the unfortunate Dreyfus was tearing his hair out and proclaiming his innocence. And this is how the case proceeded, like some fifteenth century chronicle, shrouded in mystery, swamped in all manner of nasty twists and turns, all stemming from one trumped-up charge, that stupid bordereau. This was not only a bit of cheap trickery but also the most outrageous fraud imaginable, for almost all of these notorious secrets turned out in fact to be worthless. I dwell on this, because this is the germ of it all, whence the true crime would emerge, that horrifying miscarriage of justice that has blighted France. I would like to point out how this travesty was made possible, how it sprang out of the machinations of Major du Paty de Clam, how Generals Mercier, de Boisdeffre and Gonse became so ensnared in this falsehood that they would later feel compelled to impose it as holy and indisputable truth. Having set it all in motion merely by carelessness and lack of intelligence, they seem at worst to have given in to the religious bias of their milieu and the prejudices of their class. In the end, they allowed stupidity to prevail.
But now we see Dreyfus appearing before the court martial. Behind the closed doors, the utmost secrecy is demanded. Had a traitor opened the border to the enemy and driven the Kaiser straight to Notre-Dame the measures of secrecy and silence could not have been more stringent. The public was astounded; rumors flew of the most horrible acts, the most monstrous deceptions, lies that were an affront to our history. The public, naturally, was taken in. No punishment could be too harsh. The people clamored for the traitor to be publicly stripped of his rank and demanded to see him writhing with remorse on his rock of infamy. Could these things be true, these unspeakable acts, these deeds so dangerous that they must be carefully hidden behind closed doors to keep Europe from going up in flames? No! They were nothing but the demented fabrications of Major du Paty de Clam, a cover-up of the most preposterous fantasies imaginable. To be convinced of this one need only read carefully the accusation as it was presented before the court martial.
How flimsy it is! The fact that someone could have been convicted on this charge is the ultimate iniquity. I defy decent men to read it without a stir of indignation in their hearts and a cry of revulsion, at the thought of the undeserved punishment being meted out there on Devil’s Island. He knew several languages: a crime! He carried no compromising papers: a crime! He would occasionally visit his country of origin: a crime! He was hard-working, and strove to be well informed: a crime! He did not become confused: a crime! He became confused: a crime! And how childish the language is, how groundless the accusation! We also heard talk of fourteen charges but we found only one, the one about the bordereau, and we learn that even there the handwriting experts could not agree. One of them, Mr. Gobert, faced military pressure when he dared to come to a conclusion other than the desired one. We were told also that twenty-three officers had testified against Dreyfus. We still do not know what questions they were asked, but it is certain that not all of them implicated him. It should be noted, furthermore, that all of them came from the War Office. The whole case had been handled as an internal affair, among insiders. And we must not forget this: members of the General Staff had sought this trial to begin with and had passed judgment. And now they were passing judgment once again.
So all that remained of the case was the bordereau, on which the experts had not been able to agree. It is said that within the council chamber the judges were naturally leaning toward acquittal. It becomes clear why, at that point, as justification for the verdict, it became vitally important to turn up some damning evidence, a secret document that, like God, could not be shown, but which explained everything, and was invisible, unknowable, and incontrovertible. I deny the existence of that document. With all my strength, I deny it! Some trivial note, maybe, about some easy women, wherein a certain D... was becoming too insistent, no doubt some demanding husband who felt he wasn’t getting a good enough price for the use of his wife. But a document concerning national defense that could not be produced without sparking an immediate declaration of war tomorrow? No! No! It is a lie, all the more odious and cynical in that its perpetrators are getting off free without even admitting it. They stirred up all of France, they hid behind the understandable commotion they had set off, they sealed their lips while troubling our hearts and perverting our spirit. I know of no greater crime against the state.
These, Sir, are the facts that explain how this miscarriage of justice came about; The evidence of Dreyfus’s character, his affluence, the lack of motive and his continued affirmation of innocence combine to show that he is the victim of the lurid imagination of Major du Paty de Clam, the religious circles surrounding him, and the “dirty Jew” obsession that is the scourge of our time.
And now we come to the Esterhazy case. Three years have passed, many consciences remain profoundly troubled, become anxious, investigate, and wind up convinced that Dreyfus is innocent.
I shall not chronicle these doubts and the subsequent conclusion reached by Mr. Scheurer-Kestner . But, while he was conducting his own investigation, major events were occurring at headquarters. Colonel Sandherr had died and Lt. Colonel Picquart had succeeded him as Head of the Intelligence Office. It was in this capacity, in the exercise of his office, that Lt. Colonel Picquart came into possession of a telegram addressed to Major Esterhazy by an agent of a foreign power. His express duty was to open an inquiry. What is certain is that he never once acted against the will of his superiors. He thus submitted his suspicions to his hierarchical senior officers, first General Gonse, then General de Boisdeffre, and finally General Billot, who had succeeded General Mercier as Minister of War. That famous much discussed Picquart file was none other than the Billot file, by which I mean the file created by a subordinate for his minister, which can still probably be found at the War Office. The investigation lasted from May to September 1896, and what must be said loud and clear is that General Gonse was at that time convinced that Esterhazy was guilty and that Generals de Boisdeffre and Billot had no doubt that the handwriting on the famous bordereau was Esterhazy’s. This was the definitive conclusion of Lt. Colonel Picquart’s investigation. But feelings were running high, for the conviction of Esterhazy would inevitably lead to a retrial of Dreyfus, an eventuality that the General Staff wanted at all cost to avoid.
This must have led to a brief moment of psychological anguish. Note that, so far, General Billot was in no way compromised. Newly appointed to his position, he had the authority to bring out the truth. He did not dare, no doubt in terror of public opinion, certainly for fear of implicating the whole General Staff, General de Boisdeffre, and General Gonse, not to mention the subordinates. So he hesitated for a brief moment of struggle between his conscience and what he believed to be the interest of the military. Once that moment passed, it was already too late. He had committed himself and he was compromised. From that point on, his responsibility only grew, he took on the crimes of others, he became as guilty as they, if not more so, for he was in a position to bring about justice and did nothing. Can you understand this: for the last year General Billot, Generals Gonse and de Boisdeffre have known that Dreyfus is innocent, and they have kept this terrible knowledge to themselves? And these people sleep at night, and have wives and children they love!
Lt. Colonel Picquart had carried out his duty as an honest man. He kept insisting to his superiors in the name of justice. He even begged them, telling them how impolitic it was to temporize in the face of the terrible storm that was brewing and that would break when the truth became known. This was the language that Mr. Scheurer-Kestner later used with General Billot as well, appealing to his patriotism to take charge of the case so that it would not degenerate into a public disaster. But no! The crime had been committed and the General Staff could no longer admit to it. And so Lt. Colonel Picquart was sent away on official duty. He got sent further and further away until he landed in Tunisia, where they tried eventually to reward his courage with an assignment that would certainly have gotten him massacred, in the very same area where the Marquis de Morès had been killed. He was not in disgrace, indeed: General Gonse even maintained a friendly correspondence with him. It is just that there are certain secrets that are better left alone.
Meanwhile, in Paris, truth was marching on, inevitably, and we know how the long-awaited storm broke. Mr Mathieu Dreyfus denounced Major Esterhazy as the real author of the bordereau just as Mr Scheurer-Kestne was handing over to the Minister of Justice a request for the revision of the trial. This is where Major Esterhazy comes in. Witnesses say that he was at first in a panic, on the verge of suicide or running away. Then all of a sudden, emboldened, he amazed Paris by the violence of his attitude. Rescue had come, in the form of an anonymous letter warning of enemy actions, and a mysterious woman had even gone to the trouble one night of slipping him a paper, stolen from headquarters, that would save him. Here I cannot help seeing the handiwork of Lt Colonel du Paty de Clam, with the trademark fruits of his fertile imagination. His achievement, Dreyfus’s conviction, was in danger, and he surely was determined to protect it. A retrial would mean that this whole extraordinary saga, so extravagant, so tragic, with its denouement on Devil’s Island, would fall apart! This he could not allow to happen. From then on, it became a duel between Lt Colonel Picquart and Lt Colonel du Paty de Clam, one with his face visible, the other masked. The next step would take them both to civil court. It came down, once again, to the General Staff protecting itself, not wanting to admit its crime, an abomination that has been growing by the minute.
In disbelief, people wondered who Commander Esterhazy’s protectors were. First of all, behind the scenes, Lt Colonel du Paty de Clam was the one who had concocted the whole story, who kept it going, tipping his hand with his outrageous methods. Next General de Boisdeffre, then General Gonse, and finally, General Billot himself were all pulled into the effort to get the Major acquitted, for acknowledging Dreyfus’s innocence would make the War Office collapse under the weight of public contempt. And the astounding outcome of this appalling situation was that the one decent man involved, Lt. Colonel Picquart who, alone, had done his duty, was to become the victim, the one who got ridiculed and punished. O justice, what horrible despair grips our hearts? It was even claimed that he himself was the forger, that he had fabricated the letter-telegram in order to destroy Esterhazy . But, good God, why? To what end? Find me a motive. Was he, too, being paid off by the Jews? The best part of it is that Picquart was himself an anti-Semite. Yes! We have before us the ignoble spectacle of men who are sunken in debts and crimes being hailed as innocent, whereas the honor of a man whose life is spotless is being vilely attacked: A society that sinks to that level has fallen into decay.
The Esterhazy affair, thus, Mr. President, comes down to this: a guilty man is being passed off as innocent. For almost two months we have been following this nasty business hour by hour. I am being brief, for this is but the abridged version of a story whose sordid pages will some day be written out in full. And so we have seen General de Pellieux, and then Major Ravary conduct an outrageous inquiry from which criminals emerge glorified and honest people sullied. And then a court martial was convened.
How could anyone expect a court martial to undo what another court martial had done?
I am not even talking about the way the judges were hand-picked. Doesn’t the overriding idea of discipline, which is the lifeblood of these soldiers, itself undercut their capacity for fairness? Discipline means obedience. When the Minister of War, the commander in chief, proclaims, in public and to the acclamation of the nation’s representatives, the absolute authority of a previous verdict, how can you expect a court martial to rule against him? It is a hierarchical impossibility. General Billot directed the judges in his preliminary remarks, and they proceeded to judgment as they would to battle, unquestioningly. The preconceived opinion they brought to the bench was obviously the following: “Dreyfus was found guilty for the crime of treason by a court martial; he therefore is guilty and we, a court martial, cannot declare him innocent. On the other hand, we know that acknowledging Esterhazy’s guilt would be tantamount to proclaiming Dreyfus innocent.” There was no way for them to escape this rationale.
So they rendered an iniquitous verdict that will forever weigh upon our courts martial and will henceforth cast a shadow of suspicion on all their decrees. The first court martial was perhaps unintelligent; the second one is inescapably criminal. Their excuse, I repeat, is that the supreme chief had spoken, declaring the previous judgment incontrovertible, holy and above mere mortals. How, then, could subordinates contradict it? We are told of the honor of the army; we are supposed to love and respect it. Ah, yes, of course, an army that would rise to the first threat, that would defend French soil, that army is the nation itself, and for that army we have nothing but devotion and respect. But this is not about that army, whose dignity we are seeking, in our cry for justice. What is at stake is the sword, the master that will one day, perhaps, be forced upon us. Bow and scrape before that sword, that god? No!
As I have shown, the Dreyfus case was a matter internal to the War Office: an officer of the General Staff, denounced by his co-officers of the General Staff, sentenced under pressure by the Chiefs of Staff. Once again, he could not be found innocent without the entire General Staff being guilty. And so, by all means imaginable, by press campaigns, by official communications, by influence, the War Office covered up for Esterhazy only to condemn Dreyfus once again. Ah, what a good sweeping out the government of this Republic should give to that Jesuit-lair, as General Billot himself calls it. Where is that truly strong, judiciously patriotic administration that will dare to clean house and start afresh? How many people I know who, faced with the possibility of war, tremble in anguish knowing to what hands we are entrusting our nation’s defense! And what a nest of vile intrigues, gossip, and destruction that sacred sanctuary that decides the nation’s fate has become! We are horrified by the terrible light the Dreyfus affair has cast upon it all, this human sacrifice of an unfortunate man, a “dirty Jew.” Ah, what a cesspool of folly and foolishness, what preposterous fantasies, what corrupt police tactics, what inquisitorial, tyrannical practices! What petty whims of a few higher-ups trampling the nation under their boots, ramming back down their throats the people’s cries for truth and justice, with the travesty of state security as a pretext.
Indeed, it is a crime to have relied on the most squalid elements of the press, and to have entrusted Esterhazy’s defense to the vermin of Paris, who are now gloating over the defeat of justice and plain truth. It is a crime that those people who wish to see a generous France take her place as leader of all the free and just nations are being accused of fomenting turmoil in the country, denounced by the very plotters who are conniving so shamelessly to foist this miscarriage of justice on the entire world. It is a crime to lie to the public, to twist public opinion to insane lengths in the service of the vilest death-dealing machinations. It is a crime to poison the minds of the meek and the humble, to stoke the passions of reactionism and intolerance, by appealing to that odious anti-Semitism that, unchecked, will destroy the freedom-loving France of the Rights of Man. It is a crime to exploit patriotism in the service of hatred, and it is, finally, a crime to ensconce the sword as the modern god, whereas all science is toiling to achieve the coming era of truth and justice.
Truth and justice, so ardently longed for! How terrible it is to see them trampled, unrecognized and ignored! I can feel Mr. Scheurer-Kestner’s soul withering and I believe that one day he will even feel sorry for having failed, when questioned by the Senate, to spill all and lay out the whole mess. A man of honor, as he had been all his life, he believed that the truth would speak for itself, especially since it appeared to him plain as day. Why stir up trouble, especially since the sun would soon shine? It is for this serene trust that he is now being so cruelly punished. The same goes for Lt Colonel Picquart, who, guided by the highest sentiment of dignity, did not wish to publish General Gonse’s correspondence. These scruples are all the more honorable since he remained mindful of discipline, while his superiors were dragging his name through the mud and casting suspicion on him, in the most astounding and outrageous ways. There are two victims, two decent men, two simple hearts, who left their fates to God, while the devil was taking charge. Regarding Lt Col Picquart, even this despicable deed was perpetrated: a French tribunal allowed the statement of the case to become a public indictment of one of the witnesses [Picquart], accusing him of all sorts of wrongdoing, It then chose to prosecute the case behind closed doors as soon as that witness was brought in to defend himself. I say this is yet another crime, and this crime will stir consciences everywhere. These military tribunals have, decidedly, a most singular idea of justice.
This is the plain truth, Mr. President, and it is terrifying. It will leave an indelible stain on your presidency. I realise that you have no power over this case, that you are limited by the Constitution and your entourage. You have, nonetheless, your duty as a man, which you will recognise and fulfill. As for myself, I have not despaired in the least, of the triumph of right. I repeat with the most vehement conviction: truth is on the march, and nothing will stop it. Today is only the beginning, for it is only today that the positions have become clear: on one side, those who are guilty, who do not want the light to shine forth, on the other, those who seek justice and who will give their lives to attain it. I said it before and I repeat it now: when truth is buried underground, it grows and it builds up so much force that the day it explodes it blasts everything with it. We shall see whether we have been setting ourselves up for the most resounding of disasters, yet to come.

But this letter is long, Sir, and it is time to conclude it.
I accuse Lt. Col. du Paty de Clam of being the diabolical creator of this miscarriage of justice - unwittingly, I would like to believe - and of defending this sorry deed, over the last three years, by all manner of ludricrous and evil machinations.
I accuse General Mercier of complicity, at least by mental weakness, in one of the greatest inequities of the century.
I accuse General Billot of having held in his hands absolute proof of Dreyfus’s innocence and covering it up, and making himself guilty of this crime against mankind and justice, as a political expedient and a way for the compromised General Staff to save face.
I accuse Gen. de Boisdeffre and Gen. Gonse of complicity in the same crime, the former, no doubt, out of religious prejudice, the latter perhaps out of that esprit de corps that has transformed the War Office into an unassailable holy ark.
I accuse Gen. de Pellieux and Major Ravary of conducting a villainous enquiry, by which I mean a monstrously biased one, as attested by the latter in a report that is an imperishable monument to naïve impudence.
I accuse the three handwriting experts, Messrs. Belhomme, Varinard and Couard, of submitting reports that were deceitful and fraudulent, unless a medical examination finds them to be suffering from a condition that impairs their eyesight and judgement.
I accuse the War Office of using the press, particularly L’Eclair and L’Echo de Paris, to conduct an abominable campaign to mislead the general public and cover up their own wrongdoing.
Finally, I accuse the first court martial of violating the law by convicting the accused on the basis of a document that was kept secret, and I accuse the second court martial of covering up this illegality, on orders, thus committing the judicial crime of knowingly acquitting a guilty man.
In making these accusations I am aware that I am making myself liable to articles 30 and 31 of the law of 29/7/1881 regarding the press, which make libel a punishable offence. I expose myself to that risk voluntarily.
As for the people I am accusing, I do not know them, I have never seen them, and I bear them neither ill will nor hatred. To me they are mere entities, agents of harm to society. The action I am taking is no more than a radical measure to hasten the explosion of truth and justice.
I have but one passion: to enlighten those who have been kept in the dark, in the name of humanity which has suffered so much and is entitled to happiness. My fiery protest is simply the cry of my very soul. Let them dare, then, to bring me before a court of law and let the enquiry take place in broad daylight! I am waiting.
With my deepest respect, Sir.
Émile Zola, 13th January 1898