Category: People Studies

Egyptian Fish

We are all Egyptian fish.  By that I do not mean that we stink, or that we are slimy.  Nor that we all live in Egypt, or in water.  What I mean by that, is that we are all, in fact, Egyptian fish.

Recently I watched a Polish film called ‘W Ciemnosci'(English translation: In Darkness) and found myself both disturbed and moved by it.  In Darkness tells the story of a man named Leopald Soha in Nazi occupied Lvov in the Second World War.  What sets this film apart from most war films is its refusal to romanticise war.  Instead it focuses on what survival must have been like.  Ultimately, the picture it presents is one of opportunism and fear.  Traditionally a film on this subject has a clear dividing line between heroes and villains, In Darkness doesn’t.  It forces you to draw that line.  And that is exactly why it is so difficult to watch.

The problem, in the case of World War Two is that when an image is projected often enough it can become an accepted truth.  Cinema has made the very picture black and white.  The brave Brits with their stiff upper lips and the gung-ho Americans and the sinister evil Nazi’s is blasted at us so frequently that we have somehow become detached from reality a long time ago.  This idea has been thrown at us so many times that it has become our accepted truth.  Despite the fact there is so much the vast majority of us don’t know.  For example, how many people know about the Brits who served Hitler?  Or the Sikhs, Muslims or Chinese?  Or the truth about Dresden?

Selective ignorance has great value to those who can find a way to justify it to themselves.  Our governments try to raise us with a strong sense of democratic nationalism.  They want us to believe that our nation is superior.  To reinforce this ideal they often need to edit our nations history to fit it snugly.  Yet they constantly overlook the fact that not everybody is an idiot.

We, as people, do exactly the same thing.  Take from example a married man who habitually cheats on his wife.  He may say that he cannot leave his wife for a number of reasons.  The most common being ‘for the kids’.  Is it really in a child’s interest to be raised by parents that do not love each other?  Or the woman who routinely ends up in bed for single nights at a time.  The most common regret is often ‘I thought he wanted to be with me’.  Why is it difficult for a woman to say that she likes sex?  The common denominator is that we tend to lie to promote a better vision of ourselves to others.  What we may actually feel is secondary.

The fact is that we habitually propagate nonsense to protect ourselves from honest feeling.  It is and will always be easier to say that I failed because of someone else.  That the problems in my relationship are because of my partner and not me.  The reason we do this is to avoid accepting that some aspects of our character are not virtuous.  In much the same way as a nation tends to sweep its crimes under the carpet, we as people do this too.  We do this to prevent us from ever seeing ourselves for who we really are.

The reason we are all Egyptian Fish should be obvious by now.  We are all Egyptian Fish, as we all, whether we like it or not, are in de Nile.

For those of you that are interested here is a trailer for In Darkness with English subtitles.

Struthio Camelus Socio Medius

The Struthio Camelus Socio Medius, better known as the Social Media Ostrich is remarkable for an Ostrich, as it is in no way related to any other Ostriches.  The Social Media Ostrich is a subspecies of the Humanas Wankerus, better known as Homo Sapiens.

The diet of Social Media Ostriches consists of absolutely anything, as long as it can be consumed whilst sitting in front of a computer or operating an app on a mobile telephone.  When its world view is threatened the Social Media Ostrich will bury its head in the sand.  If cornered it will attack with explicit language and poorly thought out arguments.

The Struthio Camelus Socio Medius can be identified by two distinct behaviours:

  • Regularly sharing chain statuses about social issues with absolutely no intention of devoting any of their time or money to tackle the problem.
  • Repeatedly taking offence at nonsensical issues.

If you ever find yourself in the same room as a Struthio Camelus Socio Medius I recommend exiting via the nearest window, irrespective of whichever floor you happen to be on, as any injuries you sustain will be a great deal less painful than a conversation with a Social Media Ostrich.  If ever you find yourself stranded in the Social Media Ostrich’s natural habitat, the internet, there are a few things you can do to protect yourself.  Never travel the electronic superhighway in groups of less than three.  If face to face with an enraged Struthio Camelus Socio Medius try to change the subject as quickly as possible to something less threatening, like anything involving kittens.  And if you find yourself the subject of a direct attack from a Social Media Ostrich the only thing you can do is ram hot pokers through your eyeballs.  It will not protect you from the attack but will at least prevent you from ever reading their meaningless diatribe.

Until the United Nations is willing to take action against these vicious creatures, millions of people’s lives will be affected every day.  At least 3 billion working hours will be wasted this year by people reading the spurious bile regurgitated by these monsters.  This situation must be stopped.  That’s why I am asking each and every one of my readers to share this blog post on all social media forums and then do absolutely nothing about it again, not even think about it for a moment.  This way, we can change the world as much as Social Media Ostriches do.

N.B  Feathered Ostriches do not actually bury their heads in the sand, it is a total fallacy.  When an Ostrich feels threatened it will do the same as we do, run.  However when an Ostrich is cornered and has no escape it turns into a kick boxing champion.  An Ostrich can kick hard enough to kill a full-grown lion.  Apparently Chuck Norris is approximately 62.5 percent Ostrich.

A New England

On previous occasions I have written posts about the changes I have witnessed in Poland(e.g. I Love Warsaw, 7 Years On) without writing a single word about England.  Now I can’t help but wonder why?  Perhaps my reticence is due to the claim that people should only write about what they know(After all I haven’t lived in England for nearly 8 years).  I suspect it has something to do with the motherly maxim ‘if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.’

One of the strangest things about growing up in England was the importance of television. The most striking thing about English soaps and films was how fucking miserable they were compared to other countries.  It appears that very little has changed.  If soaps are to be believed England is full of po-faced cunts sitting around drinking tea and moaning.  Our film industry has reached such a low ebb that our biggest money-spinner is a blond James Bond with manners better suited to the Elizabethan era.  Our only saving grace is comedy.  Sitcoms, comedy dramas, mockumentaries, sketch shows and stand ups all prove that comedy is alive and well in England.  It has even hijacked the quiz show genre.  The question the overabundance of comedy on our tv screens poses is why do we possess such an insatiable appetite for humour?

Is England depressed?  How on earth do you go about diagnosing a country with depression?  Are we witnessing the emergence of a new 21st century mentality?  Is this what the Latin scholars christened Couldn’tgiveafuckitus?  A quick look at www.mentalhealth.org.uk was enough to convince me that something is definitely wrong.

Is this the result of a nation which feels obliged to answer fine when someone asks how are you?  Is our stiff upper lip affecting our happiness?  What does it really mean when we say mustn’t grumble in response to a personal question despite the fact we are obsessed with grumbling about the weather?  Are we witnessing the implosion of English stolidity? Are we all destined to end up on the Jeremy Kyle show?

On a recent visit to England I was stunned by the amount of times I heard someone utter the magnificently British phrase ‘I can’t be bothered.’  Initially it left me wondering where such a crippling inertia stems from.  I was convinced that the vast majority of English people think that Carpe Diem is some kind of fish.  Now I suspect that it is merely a symptom of something more.  After all there was a reason the financial recession of the 1920’s was known as the Great Depression.  Or maybe I am wrong.  Maybe England has always been that way.

The times they aren’t a-changing –
Yeah, England’s still shit and it’s still raining,
And everybody’s jaded and tired and bored
And no one lifts a finger because
It’s just not in our culture.
Our culture is carrion and we’re all vultures,
And no one seems bothered by this state of play –
It seems that the stench is with us to stay.

Frank Turner – Once We Were Anarchists

Mass Debates And Mass Debaters

Some of the greatest, most pointless debates known to man have taken place within a group of semi-drunk heathens.  Almost always the subject is as banal as the afterlife, the meaning of life, the meaning of apple or the end of the world.  It’s much easier to attribute blame and lay it at someone’s doorstep after several beers and a few whiskeys, usually because alcohol lowers the barriers which we surround ourselves with.  From time to time drunken debates can go wrong, they can become too personal and heated, thankfully we can then blame alcohol rather than ourselves.

The first mistake people often make, is to misunderstand the point of such discussions.  The purpose of such deliberations is not to try to bully and harangue the other person into agreeing with you.  There is no winner or loser.  The reason to enter such debates is to exchange ideas.  From the process alone you can often learn something as long as you are receptive to others opinions.  In times long past philosophers would use debates as a public forum to test their own ideas, and when necessary to refine them.  And it’s for this reason alone that I love these verbal jousting matches.

Recently I was dragged into a discussion about Warsaw.  I said in passing that ‘Warsaw as a city, has no personality.’  Rightfully so I was challenged by friends and my better half to spell out exactly what I meant.  In hindsight I can say that I failed.  For whatever reason I was unable to clearly explain exactly what I meant.  It didn’t, nor does it anger me.  It only frustrates me.  And it is that frustration which keeps the topic floating in the back of my mind.

The question itself is two-fold.  The first regards whether a city can actually have a personality.  In my mind’s eye I see a man surrounded by people at a party.  As he tells stories and leads the conversation like a conductor before an orchestra you can see something radiating off of him.  He is like the Queen Bee.  He is magnetic.  That thing which ensures people return to converse with him is his personality.  On Monday when these people go to work they are going to tell anecdotes to their colleagues about their meeting with this man.  These people have been affected, some stronger than others.  Perhaps even inspired.  These people at the party have been changed.  Even if it is a temporary change.  The thing which has done this is personality.

A city with personality inspires awe.  People write books, make films and sing songs in its name.  The people there are proud to be there.  People are drawn to it, after one visit they want to live there.  The believe in its power to improve their lives.  It changes them.  People tell stories about the wonderful things they experienced there.  There is even more pressure if you are a capital city.  That charismatic person at the party becomes a famous celebrity.  They cannot just be typical or normal.  You expect personality from this person and your disappointment is infinitely higher if they fail.

What did I learn?  That a sense of pride can be found in the most unlikely of places.  That I only enjoy leaving and never arriving.  And that Warsaw is the only European capital built with its back to the river.  Is it shy?  I don’t know.  Maybe that’s why I am not mesmerised by its charm.  Or maybe, just maybe it’s because I am a Mass Debater.

Every Little Helps

I am aware that city life isn’t for the faint hearted.  I have read a great deal about how life in the 21st century seems to be one ultra competitive race to the coffin.  What I haven’t heard about is why exactly more and more people are turning into arseholes?

Admittedly I didn’t have an idealistic childhood.  Despite that, I did learn a thing or two when I was young.  Most notably that good manners cost nothing.

I am far from a model citizen.  I accept that I suffer from an overly liberal-minded tongue.  However if I am in a rush I will say excuse me as I push past people.  If I tread on someone inadvertently I will apologise.  If someone holds a door open for me I will say thank you.

What frustrates me the most about the apparent disappearance of manners is that I now reside in a society which is overwhelmingly Christian yet nowhere have I more keenly felt the absolute rejection of the concept of ‘loving’ your neighbour than here in Poland.  I have no idea whether manners have eroded to such an extent in other countries.  Just the very thought is disheartening.

Countless times I have met people from other countries who have a somewhat archaic view of Britain.  It seems that the common opinion is that Britain stops everything for tea, we only ever talk about the weather, our food is awful and our people are overly polite.  The very fact that our politeness stands out either says something great about our culture or says something negative about theirs.  I have lost count of the number of times I have been asked why do you say thank you for everything?  You get change in a shop you say thank you, someone holds open the door you say thank you, you get off the bus you thank the driver.  For them they can’t imagine why we do these things, for me I can’t imagine why they don’t.

I can’t speak for my country, however I can speak for myself.   I do these things for two reasons, the first is not out of any sense of moral obligation nor due to religious instruction.  I do these things because they are things I can do to make the world a little more pleasant.  And the second reason is the fact that I am not an ignorant arsehole.