To Express or Not to Express Political Views

Thursday, 10 September 2009 17:22

By Richard Mc Sweeney

Al Waref Exclussive
Without searching for it; without reflecting on it, I constantly find myself being faced with the dilemma of whether it would be wiser for me to stay away from using my writings to express political views or instead to use them as a very powerful means to express such views. And, surely I am not the only writer or artist who finds himself in this entanglement.

Of an afternoon, a day or two ago while out strolling beyond the village bounds where I live here on the lovely isle of Éire, I happened in mind to find myself at the same time strolling in the beautiful Jardin du Luxembourg in Paris. In truth, I have never been to this renowned garden, yet, there in my mind I was now strolling along of a bright September afternoon.

Drawing nigh on the Fountain of the Observatory, I happened to notice a familiar face; a familiar person standing there who was reflectively gazing up at the magnificent work of art.

With waiting for his gaze to shift, I politely approached, and with recognizing me we hugged each other as old friends that hadn’t seen each other for such a very long time. And we with finding the afternoon, and the ambience of that fine place greatly to our liking did stroll and chatted away about many things.

“Khalil, without searching for it; without reflecting on it, I constantly find myself being faced with the dilemma of whether it would be wiser for me to stay away from using my writings to express political views or to use them as a very powerful means to express such views.”

“Richard, if I had a certain life of mine to live all over again, I would not use my writings to express a single political view. I poured my energies into calling the powers that be to change their ways, but nobody took heed of my words. I called to my own peoples in familiar tongue by way of my Ara'is al-Muruj, al-Arwah al-Mutamarrida, al-Ajniha al-Mutakassira, Dam'a wa Ibtisama, al-Mawakib, al-‘Awāsif, and al-Bada'i' waal-Tara'if, but, alas they did not heed my call albeit the sounds and images of my words brought a degree of peace to their hearts. I called to the peoples of the world in familiar tongue by way of my The Madman, The Forerunner, The Prophet, Sand and Foam, Kingdom Of The Imagination, Jesus The Son of Man, and The Earth Gods, but, alas they too did not heed my call albeit the sounds and images of my words brought a degree of peace to their hearts.”

“Khalil, it is not so; truly it is not so for many people be they of the greater world or of your own native land and surrounding region have attentively listened to your words; have taken stock of your political views, and have tried in their own way to incorporate them into their lives, into their communities, and even into the way they govern their countries.”

“Richard, nobody has listened to my words. Within a mere eight years of I passing out of that life I once knew, look at what happened in Europe; look at what happened in the Levant; look at what happened in North and South East Asia, and look at what happened in the Lower Euphrates. And today, look at what is happening in the birthplace of the beloved poet Mawlānā Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī. How can you tell me, Richard they have listened to my words; taken stock of my political views, and have tried in their own way to incorporate them into their lives, into their communities, and even into the way they govern their countries?

Being living again in this day as I am Richard, I will not use my writings and poems to try and bring about political awareness or call for political change. My duty will be to my art alone, and through it may the world of the near and the far be with finding its own goodness and living accordingly.”

“But Khalil, with knowing what I do of the world today by means of mass communication, and social media networking, how can I in my writings keep quiet about the awful things that are taking place all over the world, and especially in the Levant? For you see, my present literary project is set in the Levant.”

“Richard, your heart is in the right place. Should, however there come a time when the Inhumanity Plague again seems to be attempting to manifest itself, then hold nothing back: hit it hard through your writings, and humankind will again come to appreciate and acknowledge that a person of peace is in their midst; a person of peace who is courageously proclaiming peace, and validating the wholesomeness of humanity. Yet, I pray that it may never ever come to pass that the Inhumanity Plague again attempts to manifest itself in the world. So many times and in so many places in the days of yore did it bring grievous pain and dreadful sorrow. Plagues are preventable.”

“Then, they being preventable how should I be Khalil?”

“Be like unto yourself; like unto me Richard be in your own way, save for my political zealousness. Let your intentions be peace, your words be peace, your actions be peace, and even your very presence be peace. And blessings of joy be upon you in your writings of today, tomorrow, and always.”

And, with the blowing of a soft breeze across my brow, I found myself to be still strolling on along beyond the village bounds of a bright September afternoon, and very much in the knowledge that somehow I had met myself anew, and knew exactly what I needed now to do.

Comments

Add New

RSS