Does anyone recall at all
Does anyone recall at all:
An appeal against forgetfulness
Fifteen years ago, in September 1998, a new book was published, Salman Rusdies ‘ The Satanic Verses. In Octobre 1988 the chairman of the Islamic Association for Enhancing Religious Tolerance said: ‘This monster that has been needlessly called to life, must be tamed before it changes into something uncontrollable world-wide.’ In december 1988 the book was burned in the English town of Boston. In January 1989 Muslims in Bradford put it to the fire again. In India and Pakistan thousands took to the streets to fight the ‘monster’.
On the 14th of February 1989 ayatollah Khomeini pronounced the fatwa, the holy summons: Salman Rushdie was sentenced to death. Dutch protestors also made themselves heard. More than five thousand Muslims called for the author’s death in March 1989. Holland posed itself the question: ‘Why should our country have any sympathy for Muslims that storm embassies, burn books and send firing squads by plane?’" (De Tijd, March 17 1989)
The world asked itself this question again after September 11th 2001, when two planes crashed into the Twin Towers in New York. On the 19th of December 2001 AIDA organised a symposium "Beyond Faith" together with the Dunya Foundation. The basic theme of this symposium: If life is endangered by planes dropping from the sky, or by surgical strikes, we face the choice of holing up silently or rallying to the streets with others, or if you are a poet, to try and find words to protect life itself with.
On March 16 1988 the population of the Iraqi-Kurd city of Halabja was decimated. For three days Halabja was bombarded with a mixture chemical weapons, including mustard gas and the nerve toxins sarin, tabun and VX. Between 5000 and 12000 people were killed instantly and another 40000 to 70000 were injured, many seriously. Nobody knows how many people died in the 11 years afterward, nor is there any information on how many suffer from long-term effects.
All this on the eve of a possible war, part of the reaction to September 11 2001, which has not only put the ‘War on Terrorism’ on the agenda, but wants to legitimise a series of wars, first in Afghanistan, tomorrow in Iraq. And who knows who will be next?
This new threat of war is splitting Dutch society. Just before the elections, the barometer of Dutch political awareness, showed it had thrown left-wing political parties back onto their familiar positions. All three parties say to abhor any thought of war. But the PvdA (Labour) does not exclude violence under any circumstance. GroenLinks (Environmental Left) and the SP (Socialist Party) do. In rallies against a war against Iraq their fraction leaders marched united behind the banner. Wouter Bos, the PvdA leader, on the other hand has indicated that any involvement in Iraq sanctioned by the Security Council of the United Nations, even a war, creates an obligation for Holland, too. In the words of Bos: the Pvda cannot walk away from it.
The SP and GroenLinks also reject any threat with war. SP-leader Marijnissen distrusts American motives. In a televised debate with VVD(Conservative Liberal)-leader Zalm he said the Americans were instigating a war with Iraq purely because of oil. He is of the opinion that this economical motive was also the reason for starting a war on the Taliban following September 11. He accused Zalm of making himself co-responsible for the possible ‘murder’ of the Iraqi people. In that same debate GroenLinks leader Halsema stated they would not be part of a government that collaborates in a war against Iraq. ‘For us that is a crucial matter’.
War on Iraq or not? Contrary to the SP and GroenLinks the Pvda thinks threatening Iraq with violence to force it to comply with the UN’s disarmament order, is acceptable, as long as it is sanctioned by a UN resolution.
Just One Thing To Do
You. Man at the machine and man on the shop floor. If tomorrow they tell you to stop making drainpipes and cook pots, and start making helmets and machine guns, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Girl behind the counter and girl in the office. If tomorrow they tell you to go fill grenades and mount scopes onto sniper’s rifles, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Factory owner. If tomorrow they tell you to start milling gunpowder, not cocoa and cosmetics, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Researcher in the lab. If tomorrow they tell you to invent a new death to counter old life, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Poet in your room. If tomorrow they tell you to sing only hate-songs not love-songs, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Physician at the bedside. If tomorrow they tell you to certify men fit for combat, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Pastor in the pulpit. If tomorrow they tell you to sanctify murder and call warfare holy, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Captain on your steamship. If tomorrow they tell you to offload your wheat and take on tanks and canon, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Pilot at the airfield. If tomorrow they tell you to carry explosives and firebombs over cities, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Tailor on your dias. If tomorrow they tell you to start sewing uniforms, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Judge in your robes. If tomorrow they tell you "report to the courtmartial hearing," there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Man at the railway station. If tomorrow they tell you to signal the munitions train and the troop transport clear to depart, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Man in the village and man in the city. If tomorrow they come bringing you your induction notice, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Mothers in Normandy and mothers in the Ukraine, mothers in ‘Frisco, and London, on the banks of the Huang Ho and the banks of the Mississippi, you, mothers in Nepal and in Hamburg, in Cairo and Oslo–mothers in every region, mothers all over the world, if they order you tomorrow to bear children: future nurses in hospital wards for the wounded, and new soldierboys for their battles, mothers all over the world, there’s just one thing to do:
Say NO! Mothers, say NO!
Auf Deutsch
Dann gibt es nur eins!
(Wolfgang Borchert, geschrieben 1947)
Du. Mutter in der Normandie und Mutter in der Ukraine,
du, Mutter in Frisko und London,
du, am Hoangho und am Mississippi,
du, Mutter in Neapel und Hamburg und Kairo und Oslo – Mütter in allen Erdteilen, Mütter in der Welt,
wenn sie morgen befehlen, ihr sollt Kinder gebären,
Krankenschwestern für Kriegslazarette und neue Soldaten für neue Schlachten,
Mütter in der Welt,
dann gibt es nur eins:
Sagt NEIN!
Mütter, sagt NEIN!
Denn wenn ihr nicht NEIN sagt, wenn IHR nicht nein sagt, Mütter, dann:
dann:
In den lärmenden dampfdunstigen Hafenstädten werden die großen Schiffe stöhnend verstummen und
wie titanische Mammutkadaver wasserleichig träge gegen die toten vereinsamten Kaimauern schwanken,
algen-, tang- und muschelüberwest,
den früher so schimmernden dröhnenden Leib, friedhöflich fischfaulig duftend, mürbe, siech, gestorben – die Straßenbahnen werden wie sinnlose glanzlose glasäugige Käfige blöde verbeult und abgeblättert neben den verwirrten Stahlskeletten der Drähte und Gleise liegen,
hinter morschen dachdurchlöcherten Schuppen, in verlorenen kraterzerrissenen Straßen – eine schlammgraue dickbreiige bleierne Stille wird sich heranwälzen,
gefräßig, wachsend,
wird anwachsen in den Schulen und Universitäten und Schauspielhäusern,
auf Sport- und Kinderspielplätzen, grausig und gierig, unaufhaltsam –
der sonnige saftige Wein wird an den verfallenen Hängen verfaulen,
der Reis wird in der verdorrten Erde vertrocknen,
die Kartoffel wird auf den brachliegenden Äckern erfrieren und
die Kühe werden ihre totsteifen Beine wie umgekippte Melkschemel in den Himmel strecken -
in den Instituten werden die genialen Erfindungen der großen Ärzte sauer werden,
verrotten, pilzig verschimmeln -
in den Küchen, Kammern und Kellern,
in den Kühlhäusern und Speichern werden die letzten Säcke Mehl,
die letzten Gläser Erdbeeren, Kürbis und Kirschsaft verkommen –
das Brot unter den umgestürzten Tischen und auf zersplitterten Tellern wird grün werden und
die ausgelaufene Butter wird stinken wie Schmierseife,
das Korn auf den Feldern wird neben verrosteten Pflügen hingesunken sein wie ein erschlagenes Heer und die qualmenden Ziegelschornsteine, die Essen und die Schlote der stampfenden Fabriken werden, vom ewigen Gras zugedeckt, zerbröckeln – zerbröckeln – zerbröckeln –
dann wird der letzte Mensch,
mit zerfetzten Gedärmen und verpesteter Lunge,
antwortlos und einsam
unter der giftig glühenden Sonne und
unter wankenden Gestirnen umherirren,
einsam zwischen den unübersehbaren Massengräbern und den kalten Götzen der gigantischen betonklotzigen verödeten Städte,
der letzte Mensch, dürr, wahnsinnig, lästernd, klagend – und
seine furchtbare Klage:
WARUM?
wird ungehört in der Steppe verrinnen,
durch die geborstenen Ruinen wehen,
versickern im Schutt der Kirchen,
gegen Hochbunker klatschen,
in Blutlachen fallen,
ungehört,
antwortlos,
letzter Tierschrei des letzten Tieres Mensch –
all dieses wird eintreffen,
morgen,
morgen vielleicht,
vielleicht heute nacht schon,
vielleicht heute nacht, wenn – - wenn – - wenn ihr
nicht
NEIN
sagt.
Wolfgang Borchert (German biography) "Dann gibt es nur eins!" aus Wolfgang Borchert, Das Gesamtwerk, Copyright © 1949 by Rowohlt Verlag GmbH, Hamburg
– Unpublished translation by Lane Jennings
