Those Rising Fists: A Poem on Resistance and Resilience in the Face of Depression

[Agnes Cecile]

Those Rising Fists

Like flowers blooming

from cracks in the concrete

a turbulent revolt is looming

as slowly, they rise

 

In the mire of the night

they close

a rose

clenching finger-petals tight

and as darkness stalks the light

they rage, they fight,

they rise


Now the storm winds they roar

and the roots dig into the core

Depression

– a dead weight almost too much to bear

as they beat against the heavy air


In defiance of demise,

in revolt, they rise


They will not wither,

in the cold or the howling winds

Even in this despair’s weather

they rise


For those rising fists

are at their strongest

and those soaring voices

at their loudest

when the arms are trembling

and the voices are shaking

but still,

stubbornly,

they rise.


Raees Noorbhai 

When injustice is built into the framework of the order, the only way to live nobly is to live in a state of revolt. For some of us, however, this personalisation of perpetual revolt is not a choice. For many, the dawn of each day carries with it a certain darkness. The mere act of living becomes an act of defiance against the paradoxical gravity of emptiness. For while we rage against the injustice around us, confronting the cold machinery of tyranny, a struggle persists within us. To battle the dead weight of depression while seeking to dismantle the structures of oppression is to wage a war on two fronts. 

Indeed, countless words upon countless pages cannot so eloquently speak of this struggle as the patches where the paper has hardened and the ink has run. However, there is a measure of solace and redemption in the breaking of silences. To speak one’s truth is an act of resistance in a world where the existence of this internal war is too frequently erased. This poem, therefore, bears witness to the gruelling battle against depression and honours the bravery of those who continue to march onward through the night.

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Had They Been There: The White Middle Class Meets the Radical Politics of a Certain Messianic Nazarene

It was a pleasant afternoon, ordinary enough by the standards of false tranquillity in Johannesburg’s Northern suburbs, when the scarcely-possible happened. In an absurd turn of events, the sort usually constrained to the pages of science fiction, a wormhole opened for a moment at Tashas in Rosebank, transporting a group of white, upper-middle class South Africans across space and time to a particularly tumultuous First Century Jerusalem.

Upon arrival, they complained (but we must forgive them, for this is their second nature), about all the potholes, before running into a messenger for Camel-through-a-Needle’s-Eye Witness News (CNEWN, a local news outlet). The messenger rambled on in Aramaic to the strangely-dressed people. Fortunately, among the travellers was Christina, who had studied the obscure language during her time at university (before, as she is fond of saying, “they ruined the place”). Listening through the interpreter’s ear, they were informed about a certain Levantine Jewish radical who was disrupting the day-to-day lives of the Jerusalem elite.

The man, they were told, was part of a violent minority that, instead of engaging ‘rationally’ and following bureaucratic processes, chose to express its discontent by entering the city and defying, even mocking, the power structures. They were told of how he entered the Temple of Jerusalem, drove out all who traded there, and violently overturned the tables of the dove merchants and money changers [1] . The radical, reported CNEWN, was a self-declared champion of the poor [2] who came from a modest, lower-class family in rural Judea. He detested the Roman Occupiers and those among his own Jewish people who’d grown scandalously wealthy through collusion with Rome. Having arrived only ten minutes earlier, the travellers had no understanding of the complex socio-politics that underlined his actions. They  made no attempt to sympathise with why this radical was angry, for locating an argument within socio-politics and attempting to understand context was never really their forté. So their responses came quickly and rather recklessly:

“I mean, if he really wanted all people to gain access to the Temple, why would he try to destroy it?”

“Don’t the money changers and pigeon [sic] merchants have rights too? Why would he violate their rights when fighting for his own? Did he have to drive out the traders to make his point? Clearly, he’s lost the plot.”

“Couldn’t he protest peacefully? There’s a difference between a protest and a riot, you know? It’s time we call him what he is: a hooligan bent on anarchy.”

“He’s a free-loader. Nothing comes for free hey. He just hates those who have because he’s too lazy to educate himself and become successful. Typical. Why does he want to visit the temple without paying for the sacrifices? How is the temple supposed to run without those fees?”

As they stumbled around later that night, searching desperately for a Starbucks in the streets of First Century Palestine, a messenger brought another CNEWN bulletin, alerting them that the radical, along with 12 accomplices (some of whom were armed and violently resisted arrest [3]), had been apprehended by the authorities. The leader had been detained, and was to be tortured and executed by crucifixion.  Again, the paternalistic responses came quickly from the travellers:

“What? There were only 13 of them? This just serves to show that they’re a radical minority, just as CNEWN has been reporting. The vast majority, the silent majority of people in Jerusalem just want to go back to their daily lives. I’m sure if asked, 77%, at least, would vote to just have things the way they were.”

“It’s called Law and Order. The sooner these hooligans learn to respect that, the better.” 

Within the next week, the Roman Authorities posted a notice in the public square and on the gates of Jerusalem’s Temple:

“Earlier today, the treasonous radical and blasphemer, Yeshua of Nazareth, was crucified upon a hill in Golgotha. It is with great regret that we’ve been forced to take these necessary measures needed to ensure the safety and security of our territory and citizenry.”

Some of our travellers remarked at the terrible necessity of violence to control anarchy, while others openly boasted. The radical, unrecognisable because his strange name and dark skin were untouched by the bleach of Eurocentric whitewashing, was not human to them. So they refused to speak of him as one, to place themselves within his shoes, or upon his crucifix. As they continued to echo one another’s sentiments, space-time snapped back into place, transporting them once again into the sanctuary of their present, the polished tables and airy milieu of Tashas in Rosebank.

Unfortunately, their minds, being tragically linear and hostile towards complexity, were incapable of containing a radical distortion of space-time. Their leap into the past, then, was instantaneously jettisoned, and they retained no memory of it at all. So they finished their meals, climbed into their luxurious sedans and listened to Talk Radio 702 as they coasted back into their gated communities.  Without hesitation, they receded into the perverse normalcy of an outrageously unequal world…

On Mondays, they began their weeks by driving their children to a private school, wondering aloud along the way at why the homeless on the streets couldn’t “just get a job”. On Friday evenings, they ended their weeks by meeting once again at a high-end restaurant to discuss the formulaic pleasures of suburban life. On Sundays, however, many of them went to Church and prayed, kneeling at the foot of that radical – a man whose crucifixion they had cheered and whose torture they had justified, because even when confronted with the struggle of their own Messiah, they could never bring themselves to sympathise with the dispossessed.

Note: Seeing as I may be accused of fabricating these Biblical events, the references to the New Testament are reproduced here:

[1] Mathew 21:12

[2] Luke 6:20-21, Luke 4:16-19

[3] John 18:10

Red Flags, Red Berets and the Ballot Coup: Free Education and the Wits SRC Election

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(Photo: Delwyn Verasamy, Mail and Guardian)

Wits is alive with the tumultuous energy of struggle song, while political regalia dots the campus with patches of yellow, and patches of red. With the SRC election less than a week away, the campus which birthed Fees Must Fall last October is set to elect its next set of student representatives. At this crucial juncture in South African student history, this year’s SRC election is far more significant than a mere exercise in political posturing. Its outcome will shape the future of the student movement and the strategy that will be implemented in the battle for free education. This year’s election, therefore, demands the undivided attention of us all.

Three parties are set to face off next week. The incumbent party, holding thirteen out of fifteen seats in the current SRC, is the Progressive Youth Alliance (PYA) – a coalition of the ANC Youth League, SASCO, the Young Communists League and the Muslim Students Association. They are being challenged by the Wits EFF Students’ Command and Project W. No party in the field is perfect. However, this should not render them equally ineffectual in the eyes of the student body. Some are better, some are worse, and others are, if we are to be honest, an embarrassment.

To get the embarrassment out of the way, let’s deal with Project W. Project W is a cynical experiment in solipsism, built upon the fallacious notion that a university’s SRC can be apolitical in a political world. Their stunning refusal to engage the complexities of the socio-political space is matched only by their masochistic impulse to lead with this idea of an apolitical campus when publicly squaring off with their opponents. The party patronises students by assuming that we are equally incapable and unwilling to tackle political complexity. Given the role of politics on campus – and indeed, the role of campuses in politics – over the decades, Project W is as ahistorical as they are apolitical. Their neutrality in political situations of moral urgency serves to bolster oppressive power structures and inflate the confidence of the ruling class. Engaging the country’s socio-politics is crucial, extraordinarily so in the context of the movement for free education. Project W is hence extraordinarily irrelevant, even by their own standards. Their conspicuous absence during Fees Must Fall is a sobering reminder that, were they to win this election, their line will jeopardise the future of the student movement. Project W is a galaxy of fallacies that aggregated from a cloud of delusion and apathy. They are a non-option.

The choice is hence between the PYA and the Wits EFF. The EFFSC has abandoned its distaste for the official political space (a distaste that one may argue is justified, given that their party was collectively punished last year and barred from running) and is now a serious contender. The campaign they have implemented balances Bikoist ideology with the consideration of basic issues that directly impact students. (It is noteworthy that this exposes another flaw in the Project W line, for one needn’t be apolitical to aid students in graduating). Echoing the process which drafted the Freedom Charter – amongst the most radical leftist documents in our nation’s history – the EFF has crowd-sourced their election manifesto, compiling it from the suggestions of the students whom they wish to represent. The party’s propensity for political disruption, a core tenet of effective protest, is indubitable – something indispensible in a battle against a system that stifles momentum through bureaucracy and delay. The EFF has therefore built a base from which they hope to claim the majority of the SRC from the PYA. Come next week, the Fighters’ Student Command is hoping to execute a Ballot Coup.

What, then, justifies the urgency of ousting the old guard? The incumbent PYA is aligned with the ANC, and hence a contradiction lies at the core of their organisational identity. Luthuli House provides the party with funding, support, and the occasional order to pacify student populations and halt protests. At times, it seems the PYA has inherited the arrogance of its parent organisation. When the Wits council debated the overhaul of IT infrastructure on campus, a project that will cost over half a billion rand, this SRC supported the move without consulting the student body, failing to account for the fact that it’s absurd to spend a nine-digit figure on improving wifi access on a campus where students don’t have accommodation or food. Moreover, red flags must be raised over the PYA’s decision to halt the university shut down last year before an insourcing commitment had been won. When a party intends to exploit the pain of exploited workers, only to dispose of them afterwards, students must respond in kind and dispose of that party. The workers are not a periphery concern – betraying them is inexcusable.

All of that said, I do not wish to discredit everything the Alliance has achieved. Nor am I implying that there aren’t committed comrades within the PYA who are invaluable to the student movement. It is possible to be more nuanced.  Yes, the PYA-led SRC played a crucial role in halting this year’s fee increase, galvanising students and driving free education to the top of the agenda. However, the PYA-led SRC was also crucial in the dissolution of student unity and the obstruction of that very agenda. The breakdown of trust between a university’s SRC and its students crippled last year’s movement for free education and squandered the momentum that we had gathered. We cannot allow for this to be repeated.

The SRC is the sole body with an official popular mandate. Tremendous legitimacy is lent to the movement if its leadership is elected by students, for students. However, we cannot have an SRC led by a PYA that can prioritise its partisan alliances over workers and the cry for free education. We should not accept an SRC that implores students to celebrate a non-increase within a broken status quo, while refusing to address the core of the problem because it involves confronting their superiors at Luthuli House. To allow the ANC to speak through a PYA SRC is to allow the establishment to dictate the terms of a movement that was forged in opposition to its failures. 

Soon, it will become necessary to indict the ANC government and hold it accountable in a concrete way. At the moment, it seems the PYA would rather pander to xenophobia and punish innocent immigrant shopkeepers than do so.  We cannot allow the SRC to be turned into a fundraising office while the structural inequality is left unaddressed. Last year’s failures are proof that we cannot trust the ANC to march on itself. Moving forward, we need a student leadership that is not tied to the agenda of the ruling party. What is needed now is student unity – a unity that is difficult to forge while this conflict of interest is alive within our elected structures. The PYA can be part of the new SRC, but if it’s unity we want, it is best if they do not lead it. If they do, we need to disabuse them of their loyalty to their parent party, or organise beyond the official. However, achieving either of these will be no easy task. Ideally, we need an alternative.

At this election, therefore, I will cast my vote in favour of the party with the largest base among workers, a party that didn’t evaporate after the marginal concession of a 0% increase was won. It is also the party whose iconoclasm has animated our national politics and that is unafraid to articulate the rage of the black child against an ANC that is corrupt and failing to redress inequality. When I walk into that voting booth, I shall strike my pen across the boxes next to the red berets.

The reason for doing so is simple: if the EFF wins a majority in the SRC, effectively counterbalanced by a smaller contingent of PYA members, we will place ourselves within a dispensation wherein student unity can be rebuilt without the risk of the ruling party completely derailing it. The ANC is not the only threat to the forging of a united student front, but it is quite possibly the greatest one we face. If we overcome it, we can prompt a surge in momentum that will once again transform us into a formidable force – a force that must prise open the doors of higher education, with urgency.

Oh When We Were Free: An Ode to Freedom of Thought

Freedom, Ann Fogarty

Oh when we were free
to let our thoughts roam
– throw certainty to sea
and plant musings in the mind’s loam.

Oh when we had liberty,
when we had not knotted tongues
to declare the lies of authority
that beat the air from our tired lungs.
 
Oh when we shunned banality,
when our brains were more than cells,
holding the prisoner of rationality
in nine circles of Dante’s Hell.
 
Oh, when fetters of fire failed to bind
– the heretic’s truth, under boot and fist.
When the marching orders from the mind
blasphemed bravely: Resist.

Yet unto liberation, powerless we are not,
for ours are first the fetters
and ours are first the knots.
Ours is first the apathy
that our certainty begot.

So victorious must we emerge from this internal war,
before our minds are truly free to wander once more.
 

Raees Noorbhai

Rebellion is a fire, sparked by the friction between a freedom which dwells deep within us, and a world which abhors it. This poem is an ode to that internal freedom – and a recognition of our power to suffocate it for fear of burning our hands. It is a song of longing, superimposed upon the passage of time, expressed in the language of nostalgia. Nostalgia for a past that perhaps never did exist, but nostalgia nonetheless. It is that internal freedom’s cry of loss, against a world in which conformist society and zealous authorities, religious or otherwise, deem it criminal to think for yourself. In the final stanzas, the poem morphs into a plea to abandon dogma, and embrace the liberating uncertainties of our existence. It becomes an appeal to seize the future and fashion it in the likeness of this idealized past – a past in which we were free. Free to champion heresies. Free to flirt with blasphemy. Free to fearlessly tell our truth. 

I Revolt Because We Are: Marxism and the Case for a More Radical Ubuntu in the Face of Environmental Disaster

It is an open secret, a blaring announcement stretched to a whisper on the slowly-turning wheels of time: our world is edging towards environmental disaster. In a quest to prevent us from leaving an uninhabitable wasteland of a world behind, the communitarian African philosophy of Ubuntu has been proposed as an alternative ecological framework that ought to guide environmental policy. While these attempts to reframe the ecological debate are well-intentioned, in practice, the traditional Ubuntu ethic is insufficient (and even inconsistent) in a world where the dominant ideology is that of global capitalism. Nonetheless, the ethic, equipped with its radical egalitarian tenets, can inform an action plan that effectively tackles the crisis. This cannot be done without rethinking shallow interpretations of harmony and discord which lend themselves to a platitudinous status quo. In order to address the problem of environmental sustainability, a Revolutionary Ubuntu, reinforced by its Marxist elements, must be forged.

The case for Ubuntu is made by Dr. Edwin Etieyibo, a prominent voice on African philosophy (and my lecturer on the subject), in his paper The Ethical Dimension of Ubuntu and its Relationship to Environmental Sustainability. Etieyibo argues that Ubuntu, in its nature as a communitarian school of thought, equips us with an alternative approach that allows for sustainable use of the earth’s resources. This, he says, is in contrast to individualistic capitalist models which commoditise the global ecosystem and serve to exacerbate ecological disasters like global warming and climate change. These sentiments are by no means misguided. However, if Ubuntu is to become a credible alternative, it is necessary to locate it within the current socio-political, and global economic, context. While some tenets of Ubuntu, upon which Etieyibo places emphasis, are indeed necessary to achieve environmental sustainability, they are not sufficient. The classical Ubuntu ethic, for as long as it stubbornly clings to its distaste for confrontation, is incapable of indicting the perpetrators of ecological degradation. For the current, worsening state of the ecosphere was not an inevitable one – it did not simply happen. The degradation of nature is not a feature of nature. The scientific evidence is unambiguous, and damning. The current ecological disaster was caused. An opponent has been dancing around the ring unchallenged, winning round after round by default. If the proponents of the Ubuntu ethic wish to change this, we cannot continue to aimlessly shadowbox.

What sort of muscle, then, do we have to work with? The Ubuntu ethic is defined as an attitude which prioritises the ‘greater good’, through what Etyiebo calls ‘caring and sharing’. Within the Ubuntu ethic, the promotion of harmony, and reduction of discord, is paramount. Classically, mediation and conciliation are seen as superior to conflict and confrontation. This is crucial (and indeed, classical Ubuntu’s crucial caveat).

If we are to allow ourselves a little more analytic indulgence: ‘Caring’ is similar to the principle of autonomy in Kant’s categorical imperative and is defined as a form of solidarity, which encourages individuals to make the ends of others their own, to adopt one another’s struggles. In summary, I shall define it as a rallying cry: I struggle because you are struggling; I revolt because we are. ‘Sharing’ concerns an attitude towards resources – to share is to recognise that one’s resources may be needed more by others and to redistribute them in accordance with that need. If the definition of ‘caring’ is extended to include adopting the ends of the common good as one’s own (after all, within Ubuntu, I am because we are), then this tenet of the Ubuntu ethic is best summed up by the popular communist dictum, first used by Louis Blanc and later popularised by Marx – “From each according to his ability; to each according to his need.”

Ubuntu’s explicit reverence for community is in stark contrast to the dominant ideology in the ‘developed’ world, which is one of neoliberal capitalism – built on the idea that if individuals pursue their selfish interests, it will result in economic growth which will better the lives of all. Adam Smith argued, in his work of the same name, that social and economic inequality is necessary to increase the  Wealth of Nations. It is within this dispensation that our current ecological disaster locates itself. It is in opposition to this dispensation that our proposed solution must be defined.

The opponent is in his corner, the ring has been readied – now, finally, let’s step onto the canvas.

Lovably-obscene Slovenian Marxist philosopher Slavoj Zizek argues that problems of environmental sustainability are problems of the ‘commons’, where individuals and corporations are attempting to privatise the “foundation of our being”. This tendency has placed undue strain on the earth’s limited resources. Its endemic myopia is poisoning the planet. The commons, which, in tandem with the community, is foundational within Ubuntu, is being gravely neglected. Indeed, the capitalist order is not simply unhelpful in achieving the goal of environmental sustainability; in its free market manifestation, it directly opposes it.

In her relatively-recent book, This Changes Everything, Naomi Klein puts forward the argument that problems of climate change are “more grounded in capitalism than they are in carbon.” For example, Klein cites the apparent conundrum surrounding fossil fuels and  argues that, if we simply disregard the free market gospel, by reigning in corporations, rebuilding local economies and bolstering working class representation, we can wean ourselves off unsustainable fossil fuels. In prioritising growth, and making the implicit assumption that growth can continue indefinitely, global capitalism is to blame for much of our impending ecological disaster. The problem is structural and hence, according to Klein, requires us to radically rethink the current economic system. This is where the departure from the classical Ubuntu ethic occurs, since what is necessary to apply it in a meaningful way is a confrontation with the cold gears of the global capitalist machine.

To believe that an approach grounded in Ubuntu will be adopted by the ruling classes voluntarily is to capitulate to excessive idealism. Changes in the dynamic between individuals will have no impact upon environmental sustainability if the dynamic between power and people remains unchanged. Interpersonal caring and sharing means little if a small group of individuals are allowed to act against the common interest, while the wealth of nations is not shared among the people of those nations. The adoption of the ethic of caring and sharing should not be supererogatory for the bourgeoisie, the class which owns and controls the means of production. Allowing the ideals of Ubuntu to guide environmental policy will require the creation of a dispensation where the ‘commons’ is prioritised. In order for a culture of the ‘public good’ to be created, structures which concentrate resources in the hands of a few individuals need to be dismantled.

Those allied with the current capitalist order will question whether it is truly necessary to radically reform, or dismantle it in order to achieve environmental sustainability. The response lies in the nature of the free market they defend. In a climate where success is gauged principally in terms of profit and economic growth, while no serious consideration is given to solidarity and the protection of the commons, there is no good market reason to promote environmental sustainability. Moreover, Marx and Engels, in The Communist Manifesto, argued against private property by pointing out that it has already been done away with for the vast majority of the population. For as long as the bourgeoisie, which is unaccountable to the community, is capable of destroying the commons through its use of the means of production, the global ecosystem is at the mercy of a minority. The current order needs to be radically restructured because it is unacceptable that the fate of the commons is dependent upon the whims of the bourgeoisie.

Real world problems require us to confront the structures and systems of the real world. To fail in this project is to fall prey to fallacies of detached abstraction and excessive idealism. What is argued for here is neither a new Maoist or Leninist Party, nor a repeat of the horrors of Stalinism, but rather a radical reaffirmation of the egalitarian principles which underlie both Marxism and Ubuntu. This can only work if the latter is isolated from its tendencies of non-confrontation and made to take a stand against the reckless capitalism that has been systematically degrading the environment. We cannot settle for an illusion of harmony within a system of normalised, deceptive discord.

With each passing round, our absence from the ring strengthens our opponent and weakens the ecosphere. The bell has been rung by the heavy hand of capital. For the sake of the commons, the people must reclaim the arena.

 

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Rebellion and the Rock of Imperial Rome

Kaipha stirred. The clattering of shackles had roused him from the restlessness of his sleep. Peering through half-opened eyes, he saw the faceless figures of his fellow inmates, the pale yellow stars upon their shoulders barely visible, as the sun rose on the concentration camp that sat on the outskirts of Rome 1. Ordinarily, they would be floating in the limbo between sleep and wakefulness, dreading a return to another day of bondage. But that morning was different. Dread had been washed from their eyes by a torrent of new hope. Whatever the day before him held, Kaipha knew that it would either end with him as a free man, or a corpse. He knew too that these men, his comrades, had entrusted him with a sacred duty. Swiftly, he gathered himself and walked to the barred doors at the entrance to their cell. The men eagerly awaited the signal from their leader. It came. The guards were changing shifts. The time for emancipation had arrived.

A group of around ten skin-draped skeletons now assembled in the centre of their small cell. Regardless of their frail bodies, a strength of will radiated from their huddle – a strength derived from rage. They were not always slaves, although their former lives were ones of serfdom. Memories of oppression by the Roman occupiers – and some of their fellow Jews who colluded with Rome to preserve the occupation – fuelled this rage.  It verbally manifested now, in outbursts of the Aramaic that was the tongue of almost every Judean in first century Palestine. Upon every emphatic syllable hung the phantom of a failed revolution, ready to be resurrected. As the survivors of the mass-slaughter of their people in Jerusalem, the men were intent on bringing justice to Emperor Vespasian, who, by the hand of his son, had razed their Sacred Temple 2. However, they first needed to shatter their shackles.

The passion of their proclamations died down as Kaipha gave them another signal from the cell door. As the sound of the Roman soldier’s heavy boots on the cobblestone outside became louder, the leader dropped back to join his men. The soldier soon appeared at the door of their cage, muttering about his disgust at these lestai – the common derogatory label given to the Jewish people who refused to be tamed by the sword of Rome. Literally, it meant ‘bandit’ – one intent on taking up arms against the occupying state. With this premonition lingering upon his lips, he swung the door open and entered to commence with the humiliation of his subject-people. “Today,” he thought, “I am Vespasian.”

As was the case when they stood in the ruins of the Sacred City decades before, the lestai were ordered to present themselves as livestock before the imperial state. After stripping them naked and reasserting Rome’s dominion, the guard would lead the slaves off to slowly break their backs erecting grand edifices in the capital city. As the soldier approached the men, Kaipha swore that he would break that routine. He slowly nodded at an older man praying in the corner of the spartan room. Without warning, the man murmuring Hezekiah’s Prayer 3 charged at the tormenting soldier, impaling himself upon the legionnaire’s spear. Seizing upon the shock of the disarmed guard, Kaipha led the other men forward to gag the soldier and unleash their pent-up rage, savoring blow by blow, upon this symbol of their oppression. A few moments later, the legionnaire’s blood oozed onto the floor to mix with that of the martyr he had deemed subhuman. Kaipha had stabbed Vespasian – and the tyrant was slowly dying.

The group now moved quickly towards the outside of their hellish jail. Strangely, they encountered no resistance as they ran through the dimly-lit corridors towards freedom. Any rational mind would have questioned this anomaly, but the mind of a zealot has a strained relationship with reason. The mind of one overwhelmed by war and new-found freedom has discarded it almost entirely. A large wooden door now stood between them and the outside world. They burst into the sunlight, unprepared for what they would then encounter…

A battalion of heavily-armed soldiers now confronted the ragtag group of rebels. After a long moment of dreadful anticipation, Kaipha made his move. The insurgent leader moved towards the front of the group, ostensibly to beg the Roman masters to spare their lives. However, as he walked towards the commander of an army that had murdered his family and burnt his home, he was embraced as a brother. Without hesitation, the rest of the group was then brutally murdered, staring into the hard, indifferent eyes of the leader who had betrayed them for a place among the aristocracy.

Rome had lost a soldier to the Plot of Kaipha, but in the calculus of power, it was a price well worth paying. As the story of Kaipha the Traitor spread in the concentration camps and Diaspora, mistrust was deepened within a people who once dared to challenge the tyranny of Rome. Under the weight of this maddening mistrust, solidarity crumbled. For generations, liberation 4 would fail to advance beyond the whispers of those too crippled by fear of betrayal to raise their voices. Vespasian was alive – and Kaipha was the rock upon which he built a psychological occupation.

 

Raees Noorbhai

 

Notes

1 It is a well-documented historical fact that the Roman Empire forced captured citizens of conquered nations into slavery. Indeed, this cruel practice of systematic servitude was tragically common during antiquity. The sacking of Judea during the Jewish Revolt of the first century was no exception to this norm. However, the use of concentration camps to house slaves is, to my knowledge, undocumented. This, as well as other details concerning the historical context in which the story is written and the plot-line of the story itself, is the product of artistic license. It would also be unbecoming of me to not acknowledge the substantial contribution made by Reza Aslan’s work, Zealot, to my understanding of the politics of the period in which I set this story.

2 In early 70 AD, after a brutal crackdown in Galilee, Titus, the son of Vespasian, besieged Jerusalem. For more than 6 torturous months, infighting and the siege led to starvation and widespread death. When the Romans breached the weakened defenses, they were merciless. Scores of Jerusalem’s people were murdered and the city was razed and plundered, along with its Second Temple, seen as sacred by the Jews of Judea. Those who survived stood humiliated in the ruins of Jerusalem and were taken as slaves by the Romans.

3 Hezekiah’s Prayer refers to an incident in that anthology of mythology popularly known as the Hebrew Bible, where Hezekiah, King of Judah, beseeches the god of Israel to deliver Jerusalem from the Assyrians.

It’s noteworthy that the liberation mentioned here is not a departure from the problematic politics of religion. The occupation that the Jewish people rose up against was certainly oppressive, but the state which the revolt aimed to establish would almost certainly spawn a new oppression – through its implementation of religious law and exclusion of those who did not belong to the dominant faith. Of course, this does not justify the occupation, but the short story is not a defense of the Revolt’s ideals either. Put simply: had it succeeded, the Revolt would’ve placed itself in the cross-hairs of a revolution birthed by the gentile cry for equality.

Saudi Condemns ISIS for Lack of “Beheading Etiquette”

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A Scimitar: the traditional curved sword of the cultured beheader.

RIYADH  –  Saudi Arabia has launched a scathing attack on the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria, claiming the terror group lacks “beheading etiquette”. In a statement released today, the Kingdom, which has beheaded more than 150 people this year, says comparisons between itself and ISIS are “absurd” and an insult to the sophistication employed by the Saudi state when it publicly decapitates people.

In order to counter this criticism, the Saudi government has established a Department of Beheading Decorum (DBD). The DBD is headquartered in the capital of Riyadh, adjacent to the Ministry for the Execution of Witches and Apostates, and the Special Office for the Flogging of Bloggers. It is tasked with insuring that beheadings are carried out in a manner that is “civilised”, following a “fair and just trial” in an official Sharia Kangaroo court.

“These militants have no class,” says Abdullah al-Saud, head of the newly formed DBD. “They blatantly disregard tradition and protocol. When they behead, they callously use butcher knives instead of meticulously-sharpened swords! Outrageous! Why hasn’t the UN intervened?” He continued, “Instead of keeping the affair personal – between friends, family and the domestic population that must be intimidated into subservience – they post their executions on the internet. I mean, we all enjoy the occasional crucifixion, but must you broadcast it to the world? What is this, Instagram?”

In response, ISIS spokesperson Abu-Musa bin Farouq al-Kuwaiti initially withheld comment, citing concern over whether “biting the hand that feeds you is halaal”. Eventually, al-Kuwaiti responded with an air of disappointment, saying that the Saudis, who exported the puritanical, fundamentalist brand of Wahhabi Islam upon which ISIS thrives, are “extravagant in the administration of the Sharia we share, have chosen the side of the West and the Crusaders, and are therefore infidels.”

Another anonymous source in the DBD concurred with al-Saud’s assessment, saying that while the Kingdom bears striking similarities to ISIS, the distinguishing factor must be etiquette. “Let’s be honest here,” he said with a laugh, “We have a fascist theocracy that can treat women as second-class citizens. We can respond to dissent with public torture, behead migrants for non-violent offenses, and criminalise thought that doesn’t agree with our ideology. We’ve even made it illegal to openly practise anything other than Islam within our borders and we have a religious police that forces Wahhabism on the citizenry. Look at all the nice things we can have because we are sophisticated! We are a first class dictatorship, yet we are the head of the UN Human Rights Council. We’ve killed more civilians in Yemen than Israel did last year in Gaza – yet still: no boycotts, no divestments, no sanctions. The US has even approved the sale of another 1.3 billion dollars worth of arms to us! We are a shining example to fascists and fundamentalists around the world – that if you want to continue being fascists and fundamentalists, simply be cultured about it.”

After a long pause he added, “And perhaps this all has something to do with our oil.” At the mention of the o-word, he stared wistfully into space, then shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to conceal his arousal, before excusing himself to his office to polish his sword.

Additional reporting by J. Paul Sartire

[A rather obvious disclaimer: this article is not intended to be taken as factual reporting and is SATIRE. The same cannot be said unfortunately for the similarities between the ideology and policies of ISIS and those of Saudi Arabia.]