#antimilitarista

[depredando]

James Cameron lançará 4 filmes para dar sequência a “Avatar” (2009): é crível uma leitura decolonial e antimilitarista deste blockbuster em série?

 LEIA O ARTIGO EM A CASA DE VIDRO: https://acasadevidro.com/avatar

"O cineasta canadense James Cameron – nascido em 1954 em uma província de Ontario – é um fenômeno de bilheteria como poucos na história da indústria do entretenimento: Avatar (2009), com rendimentos de quase 3 bilhões de dólares, e Titanic (1997), que faturou 2 bilhões e 200 milhões, estão entre os 3 filmes mais rentáveis de todos os tempos. Agora, ele anuncia seu plano de lançar mais 4 sequências de seu maior sucesso: The Way of The Water (2022), The Seed Bearer (2024), The Tulkun Rider (2025) e The Quest for Eywa (2027). Na iminência desta enxurrada de Avatares, pareceu-me uma boa ideia reconsiderar criticamente o filme que agora nos aparecerá como o primeiro de uma série de 5 arrasa-quarteirões." - Leia no site d' A Casa de Vidro o artigo de Eduardo Carli de Moraes >>> https://acasadevidro.com/avatar

SIGA NA LEITURA:

“O que me surpreendeu no arrasa-quarteirão e papa-dólares Avatar, lá em seu lançamento em 2009 (que em 2022 vive um revival nas salas de cinema), foi a surpresa de perceber nele vibrações “decoloniais”. O filme que à época levou Cameron para além das alturas de sucesso comercial e crítico que tinha conquistado com o épico melodramático e papa-Oscar Titanic, tinha o curioso caráter de denúncia contra uma certa cultura hegemônica no meio social do qual o filme é proveniente. Avatar é uma estranha obra cultural que eclode dentro de uma indústria movida a lucro mas que surpreendentemente mostra-se como um soco no estômago do que Angela Davis chamaria de “o Complexo Industrial Militar”.

Curioso fenômeno: um crown-pleaser, vendedor de ingressos a rodo, não costuma confrontar o establishment ideologicamente. E Avatar ousa ser claramente um acusação contra a invasão imperial que os seres humanos machos e estadunidenses, fundamentalistas de mercado e fanáticos do extrativismo, realizam no Planeta Pandora. É uma hecatombe ecológica e um etnocídio brutal o que estão em tela. Os seres humanos, no filme, aparecem como ecocidas vomitadores de chamas e balas, perpetradores de genocídio e desmatamento. Eles buscam acalmar suas consciências pesadas pelo fardo do assassinato em massa cometido contra as populações nativas do planeta invadido perguntando: ora, não são apenas árvores, não são apenas índios, que importa massacrá-los?!?

Emblema fílmico do colonialismo, a obra é “didática” ao mostrar a invasão dos humanos como algo visto pelo viés dos Navi (as criaturas de peles azuladas e olhos verdes que povoam Pandora) como uma chocante intervenção alienígena. O desfecho do filme Avatar – atenção pro spolier! – mostra os humanos tomando um pé na bunda e sendo enfiados num foguete de volta pra casa. Os Navi dão um chega-pra-lá no imperialismo. Vazem, canalhas! Os minérios são nossos! A Resistência anti-colonial triunfa (ao menos por enquanto).

A graça do filme começa por aí: os seres que mais se parecem conosco, os espectadores, são os vilões do filme, e nós somos interpelados com um chamado ético para identificar-nos com os Navi. O “povo indígena” invadido e ameaçado, que vê a biodiodiversidade que sustenta sua existência coletiva começar a ser massacrado pelo ecocida invasor, é não apenas descrito com deslumbrância acachapante, mas sua sabedoria ecológica supera em muito a humana.

Os humanos é que são aqui os aliens. Com ganância nos corações e atirando muitas balas por seus rifles, estes trigger-happy humans representam para os Navi a hecatombe na forma de uma força bélica alienígena, vinda de fora do mundo.

Jake Sully, o protagonista do filme (interpretado por Sam Worthington), já de partida é descrito como alguém que foi moído pelo status quo da máquina bélica da Yankeelândia: está numa cadeira de rodas, seu irmão morreu recentemente, e ele vê-se confrontado com toda a prepotência tóxica do general que manda e desmanda nas tropas. Tem hora que Avatar beira a vibe de Full Metal Jacket de Kubrick – as opressões relacionadas com a rigidez da hierarquia militar fazem com que sujeitos subjugados a esta maquinaria busquem rotas de fuga.

Avatar é a rota de fuga de Jake Sully neste épico espacial, nesta odisséia em Pandora. Seu alter-ego, seu avatar, a partir de quem ele pode andar, voltar a pular e a corre com uma agilidade que sua condição de paraplégito impede, o seduz como uma fuga para um mundo melhor. Ele é um militar mutilado, sugado pelos assuntos da guerra por ser um peão nela. Mas… vive nesta guerra a posição rara, extraordinária, do invasor que acaba aliado ao povo invadido e que acaba por liderar a Resistência contra o invasor. Não apenas sua mutilação, suas pernas imóveis, seus ferimentos de batalhas pregressas, conduzem-no a uma consideração negativa do belicismo dos U.S.A. (United States of Aggression), mas também o enamoramento em que ele sucumbe diante da mocinha Navi chamada Neytiri (interpretada por Zöe Saldaña).

Avatar mostra o conluio do fundamentalismo de mercado com o Estado capitalista imperial invadindo o mundo Pandora de maneira semelhante ao que ocorre na conquista de Marte descrita nas Crônicas Marcianas de Ray Bradbury (obra-prima da literatura fantástica). Jake Sully consegue esquivar-se do destino comum do soldadinho máquina-mortífera, exterminador de quem difere dele, pois sua disability, sua deficiência, o torna muito mais um objeto de chacota dos outros soldados do que alguém que tenha “glória” no Exército. Se Avatar certamente pode ser descrito como sci-fi, como estou convicto, não é apenas pelo futurismo envolvido nestas star wars, mas é também pois o filme questiona o campo científico que está enrolado no rolê todo. A ciência é descrita aqui como mancomunada ao aparato bélico, mas também é mostrada em seus ímpetos de biohacking, de reinvenção da carne, numa ânsia de formar uma Cronenbergiana new flesh.

Neste seu O Vermelho e o Negro futurista, Jake Sully é seduzido por estes dois mundos: o Exército e a Ciência. Eles o puxam em suas direções, mas ele também, neste meio campo onde está sendo disputado pelas Forças Armadas e pelo Laboratório de Ciências Cibernéticas, está em sua própria jornada existencial de busca por “redenção” – e novas pernas, de preferência.

Este paralítico das pernas, este ser que não anda senão por procuração (através de seu avatar), quer ser Ícaro. Seu avatar poderá planar nos céu sobre dragões. Mas ele, Jake Sully, morreria sem oxigênio se precisasse andar 10 passos até a máscara – como naquela dramática cena, no fim do filme, em que ele quase morre sem ar com a máscara de oxigênio a poucos centímetros de distância. O filme coloca em tema, pois, o que sociólogos tem chamado de gameficação, ou seja, o desejo de fuga ou escape de condições degradadas ou mutiladas de existência, causadas justamente pelo predomínio do capitalismo heteropatriarcal belicista, fugas estas que envolvem uma outra vida que o sujeito “comanda” a partir de seus avatares eletrônicos. Só que Cameron dá concretude a isto ao invés de propor apenas um simulacro.

Parece-me que Jake Sully, por seu corpo queer, é um corpo um pouco estranho ao sistema de guerra: por ser um mutilado ainda imiscuído nos combates, uma cicatriz viva das agruras bélicas e das feridas fundas que estão em sua carne, ele é atraído pela ciência alternativa dos indígenas.

Jake Sully se interessa no que ela pode ter de mais interessante para ele, pragmaticamente: a cura. A xamânica cura de quem está conectado à Internet da Natureza. Há quem taque pedras em James Cameron por este seu suposto “eco-sentimentalismo”. Mas vejamos mais a fundo. A jornada toda de Jake controlando remotamente seu Avatar evidencia, é claro, sua pertença à classe dos militares – ele se apresenta aos Navi como warrior. Mas ele parece muito mais atraído pela classe científica e também pela classe dos médicos ou curandeiros. Apesar das desavenças que possui com a cientista-chefe interpretada por Sigourney Weaver, vê-se que Jake está mais alinhado a ela do que ao general.

Ele prefere enlaçar-se em afetos ardentes com uma Navi, que talvez possa curá-lo, muito mais do que adere ao projeto do Exército. Ele é um pouco como um corpo estranho no setor bélico onde desenham-se os últimos modelos de robôs de guerra a serem comandados no combate contra os Navi, em prol de seu deslocamento forçado, para que os poderes colonizadores se apossem dos recursos minerais. Se não quiserem sair do caminho, serão chacinados – dizem os humanos ao Navi. Não surpreende que Jake fique um pouco envergonhado por ser humano e passe para o lado dos Navi, como um herói da resistência anti-colonial. Ironia da história, que a História registra muitos episódios parecidos.

Avatar, assim, fala sobre o passado: ensina de maneira acessível o que significou a Conquista da América, ainda que seu enredo esteja situado no futuro. O passado da invasão imperialista do “Novo Mundo” – também maravilhosamente cinematografado por Terence Mallick em The New World, um dos que rivaliza com Cameron pelo posto de mais impecável cineasta tecnicamente falando.

Está em Avatar também uma ressonância da invasão da América no massacre dos nativos, a chacina dos indígenas (Navi). Matá-los não é algo que o poder invasor-imperial se proíba. Para acessar as riquezas minerais do subsolo, os humanos-alienígenas impõe em Pandora um regime de genocídio. Ou os Navi vazam daquela terra, ou os humanos vão torrar tudo com seus mísseis teleguiados e lança-chamas. Tem hora que Avatar quase fede a gás lacrimogêneo (se o cinema apelasse a nosso olfato, em algumas cenas passaríamos mal de tanta tosse!). E a gente acaba torcendo pelos Navi – cheios de piedade pelos indígenas de pele azulada que os humanos desapiedados massacram sem dó em prol dos lucros.

Para além disto, o filme inclui ainda pitadas de ecologismo e doutrinas hippie-chique: Cameron irá descrever os Navi como profundamente conectados com a biodioversidade de seu mundo – e os invasores humanos como destruidores do ecossistema deslumbrante onde os Navi existem. Ou seja, Avatar talvez participe de um movimento que inclui Greta Thunberg, Fridays for Future, New Green Deals: prepara o terreno para uma espécie de tomada do mainstream pela cultura pop environmentaly conscious.

Os que estão cientes das monstruosidades relacionadas ao desmatamento, ao extrativismo, à extinção de espécies animais e vegetais, podem encontrar em Avatar enredo que enreda os sistemas produtivos humanos, e as ideologias a eles grudadas, na teia mortífera de uma destrutividade insana. Avatar registra estas atrocidades com aquelas cenas perfeitamente coreografas, maravilhosamente montadas, que fazem Cameron superar o excesso de Rambices de Aliens (o segundo filme da série inaugurado por Ridley Scott com Alien – 8º Passageiro). Deixando Tarantino no chinelo, chutando para escanteio o cinema ultra-violento do autor de Kill Bill, Cameron faz um uso da violência fílmica que é ético e pedagógico.

Agora, ao fim de 2022, James Cameron pousa novamente no cenário cinematográfico. Traz na bandeja a sequência de Avatar, O Caminho das Águas, e promete ainda outros dois (pelo menos). Teremos, assim, no mínimo uma tetralogia – como Matrix já é. Reassitir o filme de 2009 vale a pena, por todas as razões que tentei expor acima, mas por uma última que me parece crucial: este ecologismo hippie-chique que o filme veicula com seus deslumbrantes efeitos visuais fala sobre o amor inter-espécies, aproximando-se assim do que Donna Haraway conceitua sob o nome de “espécies companheiras”. Jake Sully e sua namoradinha Navi simbolizam um pouco deste amor que atravessa a fronteira da espécie. Um amor para além do especismo. O filme ainda sugere em Pandora a existência de algo parecido com o Reino dos Fungos em nossa Terra: no subsolo, uma espantosa Internet conecta o mundo vegetal numa web que é quase world wide. Os Navi de Pandora estão plugadões nesta Internet que não necessita de modem, mas sim de uma cosmovisão que nos antene e sintonize com o cosmos complexo que habitamos.

Para os Navi, como Jake aprendeu, a energia não se possui, a energia só se usufrui provisoriamente. A energia flui. Nossos corpos interdependentes dançam na realidade e a interconexão não é wishful thinking, é fato da existência. A interconexão é coisa da Vida. Teria Joseph Campbell adorado este filme?

James Cameron nos fornece representações muito vívidas disto, da interconexão como fato da vida. Por isto as chamo de cenas “pedagógicas”, no sentido de que tem o poder de ensinar, ou a pretensão de educar, quando mostra por exemplo a conexão entre os Navi e seus “dragões de estimação”. Há operando em Avatar um sistema de plugagem biológica, organismos plugando-se uns nos outros, e é isto que Jake Sully, o forasteiro do mundo humano, paraplégico em busca de redenção, começa a tentar dominar, tendo sua namorada por mestra, iniciadora, parceira xamânica. Ele que em Pandora “esconde-se” por dentro, como piloto oculto, de uma criatura feita à imagem e semelhança de um Navi.

Avatar parece pintar diante de nossos olhos, através das funduras de seu 3D, uma espécie de Antropoceno modelo exportação: a humanidade levando para outros rincões do Universo o que fudeu seu planeta de origem, entregando às corporações mineradoras e ao aparato industrial-militar do Estado neoliberal-neofascista os destinos do povo infeliz que leva sua vida em meio à Árvore Sagrada,sob a qual as toneladas de riqueza mineral de mais de 1 trilhão de dólares repousa, convocando a carnificina.

Não sabemos pra onde irá o enredo de Avatar, mas James Cameron parece ter apostado as fichas do resto de sua vida na transformação da série de filme no seu Star Wars, rivalizando com Lucas, ou no seu magnum opus potencialmente “triunfador” sobre a tetralogia Matrix.

Com seu gosto pela bombast, seu ecologismo hippie-chique, seu “lirismo” neo-romântico e tecno-xamânico, o “cara” vem aí para balançar de novo o cinema mundial com sua megalomania. Neste caso, estamos diante de um artista com poder raro de enfeitiçar as massas e de consagrar-se como autor de alguns dos maiores sucessos comerciais da história da 7a arte, pau a pau com Spielberg.

Por tudo isto aqui esboçado, fiquemos atentos! Avatar é mais que o popcorn descartável com que normalmente a indústria de Hollywood nos empanturra. Algo do destino da consciência das massas no futuro imediato está inextricavelmente linkado com a recepção que centenas de milhões de consciências, plugadonas na cultura pop contemporânea, farão desta re-entrada em cena de Avatar. Ela se faz em um momento chave do Antropoceno, quando estamos perto do ponto-de-não-retorno e onde o cinema talvez se alce à pretensão de que não pode mais se esquivar: ensinar alguns caminhos para fora do buraco do já-corrente Caos Climático.

Os caminhos que nos serão sugeridos, é evidente, estejamos prontos a criticá-los! Mas sem ignorar que a maioria dos espectadores irá sugar estes filmes com os afetos mais do que com o cérebro, com a ânsia do coração mais que com a frieza de uma razão criticante. E que talvez esta seja a lição que Avatar nos lança: através da ficção científica, pode-se ensinar algo relevante para nossa sobrevivência em meio à teia de interconectividades que as atitudes hegemônicas de extrativismo, desmatamento, poluição, ecocídio e genocídio estão aniquilando.

Por Eduardo Carli de Moraes Outubro de 2022

QUERO LER MAIS!!!

[aitan]

Pasquale Faraco mi ha sbloccato un ricordo!

Un textículo di ambientazione fantascientifica, che voleva essere soprattutto un racconto antimilitarista, un racconto sul fascino perverso delle armi e sulla necessità del disarmo.

Il textículo risale a 30 anni fa.

Col nostro effimero gruppo degli ASA (Abusivi Spazi Acustici), Pasquale AlFar, Gennaro Pannone e io ne facemmo un brano musicato e recitato davanti al nostro esiguo pubblico di quegli anni.

La musica si è persa nei meandri del tempo.

Il testo è ancora qua (e già)...

[carabanchelnet]

📌El Madrid privatizado por Almeida: cuatro años de cesiones a empresas, regalo de parcelas y polémicas recalificaciones 📌La Justicia rechaza paralizar la tala de árboles en la ampliación de la línea 11 de Metro de Madrid 📌El sindicato MATS denuncia negligencias en el incendio que acabó con la vida de una persona en el Clínico 📌Una marea humana sale en San Fernando para denunciar el drama que ha supuesto la negligente construcción de la línea 7B del metro 📌Condena a la Comunidad de Madrid por el “flagrante incumplimiento” de la protección laboral de médicos 📌Protesta ciudadana contra la Feria Internacional de Defensa y Seguridad | Vídeo 📌Elecciones del 28M y momento político 📌Olas de calor sin precedentes. Las zonas con mayor riesgo https://carabanchel.net

[ideeperscrittori]

SULLA LEVA OBBLIGATORIA

Un 17enne ha ucciso i genitori e il fratellino di 12 anni. È un fatto orribile che ha prodotto accese discussioni e io ho commesso l'errore di leggere i commenti sui social network.

Tanto per fare un esempio, un tizio ha scritto: "Queste cose succedono perché non c'è più la leva obbligatoria".

Un sacco di gente gli dava ragione.

Pioggia di like e applausi.

Bene.

Anzi, male.

Io sono radicalmente antimilitarista, quindi potete immaginare il mio punto di vista sull'argomento.

Ma vorrei aggiungere che:

1. L'omicida ha 17 anni. Il servizio di leva riguardava persone maggiorenni. Quindi che diavolo c'entra? Ma un minimo di logica?

2. Ci manca solo la leva rivolta ai minorenni.

3. Sono nato nel 1973 e ho vissuto gli anni Ottanta e Novanta. In quel periodo, malgrado la possibilità dell'obiezione di coscienza, c'erano moltitudini che facevano il servizio di leva. E credetemi: le pagine di cronaca non erano una testimonianza di pace, concordia e fratellanza universale.

4. Non fai una bella pubblicità al servizio di leva se ti vanti di averlo fatto e poi scrivi commenti di una superficialità sconcertante. Significa che qualcosa è andato terribilmente storto nella tua vita. Forse proprio durante il servizio di leva. Strano.

5. L'esercito ha prodotto fascisti come Vannacci.

[L'Ideota]

[szottesfolditanyak]

Alexander Grothendieck

Eszményem a koktélparti-beszélgetés; amikor a mély gondolatot szórakoztató módon, a lényegre lecsupaszítva közvetítjük egy érdeklődő barátnak (esetleg egy gyors rajzzal is kísérve a szalvétán). A cél az, hogy az újonc fejében világosságot gyújtsunk, de vigyünk a témába egy olyan csavart, amellyel a szakértő tetszését is elnyerjük. És persze soha ne untassunk. - írja Jim Holt az Amikor Einstein Gödellel sétált című könyve előszavában. Sikerült is ebben a szellemben megírnia az egész könyvet.

Egyik matematikai fejezetben szentel pár oldalt Grothendiecknek. Íme (a képeket én tettem közé):

Az 1930-as években ragyogó fiatal párizsi matematikusok - köztük André Weil - elhatározták, hogy a matematika házát biztonságosabbá teszik, újra felépítve azt a halmazelmélet logikai alapjain. A projekt a Bourbaki kollektív álnév alatt évtizedekig folytatódott, s egyik vastag értekezést szülte a másik után. Ennek egyik következménye - eléggé esztelen módon - az „új matematika" nevű oktatási reform bevezetése volt még az 1960-as években, amely a számokról való intuitív beszédet a halmazok idegen zsargonjával helyettesítve teljesen összezavarta az amerikai iskolás gyerekeket és szüleiket.

A fizikusok a „minden elméletének" megtalálásáról beszélnek; s a halmazelmélet annyira elsöprően általános, hogy akár a „minden elmélete elméletének" is tűnhet. A Bourbaki-kör tagjai is biztosan így látták. De néhány évtizeddel azután, hogy programjuk elindult, a rendkívüli Alexander Grothendieck vált a kör központjává, és túllépett rajta. Eközben létrehozta a tiszta matematika új stílusát, amely éppolyan gyümölcsözőnek bizonyult, mint amilyen szédítően elvontnak. Már jóval azelőtt, hogy 2014-ben a Pireneusokban egy távoli tanyán nyolcvanhat évesen meghalt, az utolsó fél évszázad legnagyobb matematikusának tekintették. Ahogy Harris megjegyzi, bizonyára a "legromantikusabb" is volt: „Élettörténete írói feldolgozásért kiált." 

A nyers tények eléggé meglepőek. Alexander Grothendieck 1928-ban született Berlinben aktív anarchista szülőktől. Orosz zsidó apja részt vett a cári rezsim elleni 1905-ös felkelésben és az 1917-es forradalomban. A bolsevikok alatt megúszta a bebörtönöztetést; összecsapott a náci gengszterekkel Berlin utcáin; harcolt a republikánus oldalon a spanyol polgárháborúban (ahogy Grothendieck anyja is); és Franciaország eleste után Párizsból Auschwitzba deportálták, majd ott meggyilkolták.

Grothendiecket hamburgi nem zsidó anyja nevelte Franciaország déli részén. A fiú mind a számokhoz, mind a bokszhoz tehetséget mutatott. A háború után Párizsba ment, ment, hogy a nagy Henri Cartannál tanuljon matematikát. A Sao Paulóban és Kansasban, valamint a Harvardon elvégzett korai oktatási gyakorlat után Grothendiecket 1958-ban meghívták, hogy csatlakozzon  az Institut des Hautes Études Scientifiques-hez, amelyet éppen akkor alapított egy magánvállalkozó Párizs mellett, a Bois-Marie erdeiben. Ott töltötte Grothendieck a következő tizenkét évet, megdöbbentve elit kollégáit és fiatalabb tanítványait azzal, ahogy a magasabb matematika tájképét újjáalkotta.

Grothendieck fizikailag impozáns, borotvált fejű, jóképű férfi volt; éppolyan karizmatikus, mint puritán. Kegyetlen minimalizmusa kiterjedt a pénz megvetésére és szerzetesi ruhatárára. Következetes pacifista és antimilitarista lévén 1966-ban nem volt hajlandó Moszkvába menni (ahol a matematikusok nemzetközi kongresszusát tartották), hogy átvegye a matematikában legnagyobb kitüntetést, a Fields-érmet. Ugyanakkor a következő évben elutazott Észak-Vietnamba, ahol a dzsungelben tiszta matematikára tanította azokat a diákokat, akiket Hanoiból evakuáltak az amerikai bombázás elkerülése végett. Életének nagy részében (önként) hontalan maradt, három gyermeke volt egy nőtől, akit feleségül vett, és még kettő házasságon kívül. Megalapította a Survivre et Vivre radikális ökológiai csoportot, és egyszer letartóztatták, mert egy politikai tüntetésen Avignonban leütött néhány csendőrt. 

Kérlelhetetlen és néha paranoiás integritásérzése miatt Grothendieck végül elidegenedett a francia matematikusok intézményi világától. Az 1990-es évek elején eltűnt a Pireneusokhan, ahol - mint azt maroknyi csodálója jelentette, akiknek sikerült nyomon követni őt - a fennmaradó éveiben pitypanglevesen élt, és azon elmélkedett, hogy egy rosszindulatú metafizikai erő pusztítja a világ isteni harmóniáját, alkalmasint picit módosítva a fény sebességén. Azt mondták, a helybeli falusiak gondoskodtak róla.

Grothendieck átalakította a modern matematikát. Azonban ennek az átalakulásnak nem kis részét egy kevésbé ismert előfutárának, Emmy Noethernek kell a javára írni. Az 1882-ben Bajorországban született Noether volt az, aki a kategóriák elméletét inspiráló absztrakt megközelítést nagyrészt létrehozta. Azonban nőként egy férfiak által uralt egyetemi világban el volt zárva előtte annak lehetősége, hogy professzor legyen Göttingenben; a klasszicisták és a történészek a karon azt is megpróbálták megakadályozni, hogy fizetés nélküli előadásokat tartson. Erre föl jegyezte meg David Hilbert, a német matematika doyenje: "Nem látok okot arra, hogy neme akadálya legyen kinevezésének. Utóvégre egyetem vagyunk, nem fürdő." ...

Emmy Noetherben természetesen alakult ki az az intellektuális szokás, hogy egy problémával az általánosság egyre magasabb szintjein birkózzon meg. Ezt osztotta Grothendieck is, aki azt mondta, hogy nem a „kalapács-véső" módszerrel szeret megoldani egy problémát, hanem hagyja, hogy az absztrakció tengere „elárassza és feloldja" azt. A matematikusok által kezelt ismerős dolgok, mint például az egyenletek, függvények és még a geometriai pontok is az ő víziójában jóval összetettebb és sokoldalúbb struktúrákként születtek újjá. A régi dolgok az újak puszta árnyékainak - vagy, ahogy Grothendieck szívesebben hívta őket, „avatárjainak" - bizonyultak. (Egy avatár eredetileg egy hindu isten földi megnyilvánulása; sok francia matematikus talán a szanszkrit nyelvben is szakértő André Weil befolyása miatt merít előszeretettel a terminológiában a hindu metafizikából.) 

Ez nem egyszeri folyamat. Végül minden új absztrakcióról kiderül, hogy egy még magasabb absztrakció avatárja. Ahogy Michael Harris mondja: „A rendelkezésre álló fogalmak az általunk megragadni próbált, elérhetetlen fogalmak avatárjaként értelmezhetők." Ezen új fogalmak megragadásával a matematika a növekvő absztrakció egyfajta „létráján" halad felfelé. És Harris szerint ez az, amire a filozófusoknak figyelniük kell: „Ha a mai matematika egyetlen jellegzetességére kérdeznél rá, amely filozófiai elemzés után kiált, azt tanácsolnám, hogy a szilárd alapok keresése helyett gyakorold a fogalmi és avatárlétrák megmászását." 

És mi van a létra tetején? Harris játékos komolysággal azt állítja, hogy „talán van egy nagy tétel", minden matematika végső eredete — „valami samsara = nirvana-hoz hasonló". De mivel a megmászásra váró lépcsők száma végtelenül sok, ... ...

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A pireneusos rész miatt elkezdett érdekelni. Utánanéztem.

Ezeket a következő idézeteket nem szerkesztem, csak hangulatképek; akit érdekel, úgyis utánaolvas. Ezek azok az időkből valók, amikor már otthagyta az akadémiai világot.

A legvégére teszek két beszámolót két egyetemi hallgatótól, akik ad hoc meglátogatták a Pireneusokban. Ebben az egész posztban az első emlékezés a legmeghatóbb.

"Between June 1983 and February 1986, Grothendieck wrote Récoltes et Semailles: Réflexions et témoignage sur un passé de mathématicien (Reapings and Sowings: Reflections and testimony about the past of a mathematician). It is a work that defies categorization. The title suggests a memoir, but Récoltes et Semailles is something more and less than a memoir. It is more, in that it contains not only memories of events in his life but also analyses, often quite deep and minute, of the moral and psychological significance of those events and his attempts to reconcile their meaning with his view of himself and the world."

"In the years prior to and following his retirement, Grothendieck began sending strange letters to former colleagues and friends, expressing his spiritual beliefs. For instance, in the period 1987–88 he wrote a 300-page manuscript (accompanying 500 pages of notes) entitled La Clef des Songes ou Dialogue avec le Bon Dieu (“The Key to Dreams or Dialogue with the Good Lord“) in which he expressed his conviction that “God exists and that he speaks to people through their dreams” (Jackson, 2004b). A few years later, in 1990, he wrote a letter entitled La Lettre de la Bonne Nouvelle (“The Letter of Good News”) which he addressed to 250 people, declaring that the “Age of Liberation will commence on the Day of Truth, 14 October 1996”.

Around the same time, he burned approximately 25,000 pages of his own writing, including various works in mathematics, letters between his parents in the 1930s and unpublished manuscripts in an attempt to “lighten himself of all things”

...

... described Grothendieck not as arrogant, but as “Just friendly, and at the same time rather naive and childlike […] Many mathematicians are childlike, unworldly in some sense, but Grothendieck more than most. He just seemed like an innocent — not very sophisticated, no pretense, no sham. He thought very clearly and explained things very patiently, without any sense of superiority.” "

Grothendieck:

Today I am no longer, as I once was, the prisoner of interminable tasks, which so often prevented me from leaping into the unknown, mathematical or otherwise. The time of tasks for me is over. If age has brought me anything, it is lightness. —Esquisse d’un Programme

David Mumford méltatása 2014-es halála után, főleg szakmai.

A fenti két jó életrajzon kívül még egy matekra kihegyezett címszavas zanza életrajz.

Récoltes et Semailles, Part I - el tudom képzelni, hogy létezik annyi fű, hogy ez énekeljen; anélkül nehéz.

Tisztelői gyűjteményes oldal:

És a két beszámoló a látogatásokról. Módfelett tanulságosak az amilyen az adjonisten szemszögéből. Idekopizom őket egészükben is a linkek után, ha esetleg eltűnnének idővel.

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Visiting Alexander Grothendieck Mohammad Hadi Hedayatzadeh

On February 18, 2011 I met Alexander Grothendieck at the gate of his house in Lasserre, France. The idea of meeting Grothendieck was on my mind ever since I learned about his beautiful Mathematics and his charismatic character as a student in Iran about 10 years before. At that time the idea was raw and more a fancy than something that could one day be realized.

The more I studied Algebraic Geometry the more I admired Grothendieck's mind and genius. I was determined to meet him. Towards the end of my graduate studies, at ETH Zurich, while at the Journées Arithmétiques in Rennes, France, I met Prof. Michel Raynaud. Our conversation soon converged toward Grothendieck. I explained to him how I felt about Grothendieck and that I really needed to meet him. He instructed me to contact Prof. Leila Schneps. I did. Prof. Schenps was very kind to share with me Grothendieck's home address. She warned me not to expect a kind response from him, and told me the stories of people with sad experiences. The decision was instantly made: I would go to the south of France as soon as I defended my PhD thesis.

On February 15, 2011, my spouse, Sepideh Farmani, and I left Zurich to go to the Pyrenees. On February 16 we arrived in Aurignac, France, about 35 km from Grothendieck's home in Lasserre. The next morning, we drove to Lasserre. We entered the little town, with tiny streets. Even though we had the postal address, finding the right house was by no means trivial; there was no number or name tag. We finally found the house, which had a rather big garden. As you can imagine the house did not have a door bell. We didn’t know what to do. We talked to his neighbors. They were very nice people. They told us that Grothendieck would very rarely leave the house, maybe once a month to collect and send mail at the post office. They also told us that few months earlier a young lady had tried to meet him. Their advice was to shout his name, wait patiently, hope, and prepare for disappointment. We followed their instructions. I never shout. I never talk loudly in public places. It was hard to shout "Monsieur Grothendieck" in an unknown place! After some hours, Grothendieck came out. The excitement was high! I called out his name again from behind the garden fence. He was about four meters away. He turned, but did not pay any attention. He looked at some of the plants in the garden. I'm not sure what he did. But after few minutes he went back in. It was getting dark. We waited a little longer in vain. I was a little hurt, just a little; why would he not answer me? Why total ignorance? Sepideh suggested that I write a letter to him, where I introduce myself, tell him what I wanted to tell him, and explain what happened that day. I had a portrait of him printed on an A4 paper. On the back I wrote the letter. I put the letter in his mailbox. We drove back to our hotel in Aurignac. That night I wrote to Prof. Winfried Scharlau, to tell him that I was there and asked him if he had any tips for increasing my chances of meeting Grothendieck.

The next morning, we drove back to Lasserre. There is a school in the town. There were about five children and two teachers. We met them and talked to them. We told them why we were there and they told us they knew that a great mathematician lived there, but they had never met him. We also talked to the lady at the post office. She told us that from time to time Grothendieck would come to the post office. Another friendly neighbor told us that Grothendieck's phone worked only in one direction and that usually he ordered his groceries on the phone. The neighbor with whom we had spoken the night before had told us that Grothendieck usually worked until late at night (about 3 or 4 in the morning) and he would wake up late in the morning, around noon. Of course they didn't know the exact time, but this was his lifestyle for a long time and this family had lived there for a long time, before the time Grothendieck had abandoned all social interactions. So, not expecting to see him in the next couple of hours, we studied the little town.

It was early in the afternoon. I was pacing in front of his garden, hopelessly, and regularly checking his door. All of a sudden, Grothendieck came out of the house. He checked his plants and then moved towards the gate, where his mailbox was located. I rushed towards him. When there was only a fence between us, I called his name. He greeted me. He was checking his mail. Instead of introducing myself —which I had done in the letter— I told him that I had written something for him. He took the letter and started reading it.

He would stop now and then to answer a question or address a point in the letter. He apologized for not having answered my call the day before, because his hearing was not very good (something that became obvious the instant we started our conversation). I had said in the letter that I was a mathematician working in Arithmetic Algebraic Geometry, that I had just finished my PhD and that I was about to start a Postdoc position at the California Institute of Technology. But I had made a point not to discuss Mathematics. He had decided to leave Mathematics and I didn't want to violate his decision. And I didn't want to meet Grothendieck to "learn" Mathematics or to get "inspirations". For sure, I came to know him through Mathematics, but after reading more about him and his non-mathematical work, my admiration for him only grew. He was no longer just a great mathematician for me. Well, if I have to talk about my feelings about Grothendieck, I would have to write pages and pages. All I want to say here is that I didn't talk about Mathematics because he probably didn't want to and also it was not the reason why I wanted to meet him in the first place.

I had written about my background. That I was a Muslim from Iran. He said that he also believed in God, but he didn't follow any "traditional" religion. I had written about my feelings towards the mathematical community and that I shared some of the feelings he had when he left the community.

When the letter was finished and he saw his portrait on the verso, he was quick to ask where I had obtained his picture. I was not sure how much he knew about Internet. I told him that I had downloaded it from the website Grothendieck- Circle. He was very displeased to hear it. He told me that he had requested the responsible people to take down the site. I assured him that the site was indeed inactive. I wanted to tell him that it was thanks to this site that many people (including myself) got to know more about him and that it was such a valuable source for his legacy, but I decided to let him be the speaker. He asked how I had obtained his address. I explained. He also asked if I was alone and if I had driven all the way from Zurich. When I told him that my spouse and I (and only the two of us) drove from Zurich to meet him, he was very touched, and thanked us. I think he did not realize what position he occupied in the heart of so many passionate mathematicians, for whom Mathematics was not everything, and saw Grothendieck not just as a great mathematician, but as an activist, a rebel and a person of principles.

He apologized that he could not invite me inside his house. He told me that back in the days, his door was always open and everybody was welcome to go inside his house whenever they wanted. I could sense sorrow in his blue eyes and deep voice. "But now, it would be better for your own well-being not to come inside", he said. He just said that there were des êtres occultes that could harm me (maybe I should mention that our conversation was in French, so I'm translating, and neither French nor English being my mother tongue, I hope I have understood what he said and am able to translate it to English the best I can). I didn't press him to elaborate. I believe that because of my Eastern spiritual heritage I was not shocked by what he said. But I am also a mathematician hit by the passion of Mathematics when I was 12. So, it was in my nature to examine these unexaminable claims.

He said: "you know, nobody loved Mathematics the way I did". It was clear that it was not one of those easy and cheap claims some people make. He said that he suffered for his amour of Mathematics like nobody else. I don't know how one measures these emotions, but it was evident that he had pondered over them for a very long time.

He talked about pain and the importance of suffering; la douleur et la souffrance. When he was instructing me to write to him, he emphasized on the fact that he would only reply my letters if I had written them "with pain" (and that he would know if I had suffered). This was how he did Mathematics, he declared.

He told me that he was not anymore doing Mathematics in the "traditional" sense, but was "using" or "applying" Mathematics in order to describe the "Universe". He would often need to invent new Mathematics for that, he added. He was not doing a physicist's job; rather a philosopher's. It is easy to dismiss this effort as futile, but from what I knew about Grothendieck and the serious air, with which he was speaking, I believe one should expect something profound in his “forthcoming” oeuvre (that we might never see!).

From the accounts I heard from his neighbors, of people trying to meet him and the way he spoke of some letters he had received, it was clear that he was wary of people meeting him. He stressed on several times that this was for their own good. He didn't ask me, but I assured him that I would not recount to anyone this visit, in order to save him (or them) from the ordeal of such visits. I kept my promise and I revealed my secret only after Grothendieck's passing.

It was now time to say goodbye. I queried whether I could visit him again. He said that we would soon meet each other again, but not in this world. In the meantime, however, I should write to him, he advised. Hesitantly, I asked him if he would allow me to take a photograph with him. I said I wanted to keep it as a memento. In his gentle manner, he told me to come closer. He shook my hands and hugged me and said that this hug was a better memento. Of course it was. Still today, I cherish that memory; the smell of the grass, the golden light of the setting Sun, his kind smile and the echo of his captivating voice.

Then, I watched him fill some bowls at gate of his garden. They were for neighbors’ cats. Trying not to make him uncomfortable, I left and sat in the car, meters away from his garden. We watched him in high spirits, for the last time, as he was going back in, trying to engrave every millisecond in our memory…

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Katrina Honigs September 27, 2015

I met Alexander Grothendieck on January 2, 2012. As I made my way to a car rental center in the outskirts of Toulouse that morning, with the sky still dark, the displays on passing buses flashed between their numbers and “Bonne Ann´ee.

I was halfway into my third year of graduate school and had read a bit of Alexander Grothendieck’s mathematical work and felt a sense of connection with it. I found his writing to be generally very clear, and I liked his approach to algebraic geometry. In my own career, I was at a point where I was not only not making progress on solving any problems, but miserably unengaged by my work. But despite the burnout, Grothendieck’s work remained an island of enjoyment in an otherwise featureless sea. Grothendieck is unquestionably one of the most influential mathematicians of the 20th century, and to a graduate student all the way in California, his exit to live the life of a hermit, location unknown somewhere in the Pyrenees of France or Andorra, rendered him a practically mythical figure.

But I am driven to demystify – it is part of what motivates me to be a mathematician – and when we tell ourselves and others that our heroes are inhuman and on a pedestal that is not just high but unattainable, we are actually pushing ourselves down rather than climbing. And so, following a decision to attend a conference in France, some emails, a lesson driving with a manual transmission, a session of studying maps, and a long conversation at the rental car center made difficult by my limited French, that brisk but mild winter morning found me driving through rural France, wildly hoping for a conversation about mathematics, or that I might at least see that it was truly a real person who did all the work with the name Grothendieck on it.

Lasserre is small and remote, but Grothendieck’s house is by no means the isolated cabin in a dark forest that I had imagined when I first heard about him. That area of the Pyrenees is lovely, and the drive through a rolling land- scape down lanes lined with sycamore trees featured views of fallow winter fields and blue mountains swelling along the horizon that reminded me very strongly of where I grew up in the foothills of the Appalachians. The town is so small that the houses do not have numbers, which, judging by the dubi- ous looks and patient explanations that addresses really should have numbers that French postal workers gave me when I handed them my letters addressed to Grothendieck, is relatively uncommon. Since I didn’t know which house in Lasserre was Grothendieck’s, I chose to park in a convenient small gravel lot. I was faced with a very finite number of possible houses since Lasserre consists of the intersection of a few roads, and figured I would find my way after knocking on some doors and inquiring where I might find the person who proved the representability of the Quot functor. However, it wasn’t necessary to make in- quiries this way: my appearance in a rental car was a strange enough event in Lasserre that as soon as I put the car in park, a friendly man came out of a nearby house to ask if I needed any help. He appeared to be a bit puzzled by my pronunciation of “Alexander Grothendieck”, but after I further explained that the person I was seeking would be someone “vieux et ´etrange”, he was abruptly quite certain of who I had in mind, and we giggled like children whis- pering in the back of the classroom over having described Grothendieck this way. Grothendieck’s house was not 50 feet away from where I had parked. His neighbor walked me over to the locked gate, shrugged, and walked away.

I returned to the car to equip myself with a pair of shoes lighter than the boots I was wearing that I had brought along for fence-climbing, and some galettes du roi full of almond paste, a pastry made during the church season of Epiphany, which I had purchased that morning in preparation for fence- climbing-apologizing.

Some lights were on in the house, but there was no sign of movement when I approached the gate. I hopped easily over the fence, which was made of wood and stone and about waist-height, much more modest than it had loomed in my imaginings in the previous weeks. I stepped furtively across the slightly ramshackle yard, which had many plants and terra cotta pots in various degrees of wholeness, and walked up the steps. I knocked on the door and waited, and then I knocked again. Getting more nervous, but aware that this would likely be my only chance to meet him, I shouted “Monsieur Grothendieck!” and waited, but there was no response. Thinking of the baked goods in my bag, I called “Je vous apporte quelque chose de bon!” and then cringed as I realized that was an odd tactic, like something someone might say to entice children into a windowless van. What should one say to get Grothendieck’s attention? Maybe a new proof of a big conjecture, but I didn’t bring one. I tried calling his name a couple more times, but there was no sign that I was heard. Looking over at the windows to my right, I started to wonder how long I should stay. I had done my best to arrive at a likely time of day, about 11 am, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t decided what to do in the event that Alexander Grothendieck did not happen to be sitting right by the door, ready to greet me.

When I looked up from my reverie, I realized that a figure with a large white beard wearing a brown robe over his clothes had appeared utterly silently quite nearby on my left. I was so startled that I felt like I was outside myself watching the scene. My eyes widened, I jumped involuntarily, my heart pounded. I thought, wildly, “Oh no, what if I have accidentally come to the home of the wrong hermit?”. But as soon as I looked at his face, I recognized it from photos I had seen. Oddly enough, it was not the more recent photos where I saw the resemblance, but to a much older black and white photo of him when he was young. “It’s you!” I managed, idiotically. Grothendieck stood impassively. In one hand, he held a short pitchfork loosely at his side. It reminded me of his doodle of devils with pitchforks around the Grothendieck–Riemann–Roch formula. His free hand rose, brandishing an admonitory finger. “Il ne faut pas entrer,” he said, advancing slowly toward me. I tried to form some sentences about visiting, but Grothendieck did not react. He continued to walk slowly toward me, wagging his finger, telling me that I shouldn’t be in here disturbing him, and asking me how I got in here.

When he seemed totally unmoved by my getting out the bakery box from my bag and told me again to leave, I returned to the gate. I explained that I had climbed the gate to get in, but when he didn’t react at all, I thought (nonsensically, I now realize) that he wanted me to climb back over the gate to prove to him that this was indeed how I entered his yard. But, the ground under the gate was sloped so that the fence was significantly higher from the inside, and I was shaking from the huge influx of adrenaline that I was experiencing. After a few horribly embarrassing failed attempts at pushing myself back over the gate, during which all I could think, over and over, was “Alexander Grothendieck is watching me” (which he was, with what I might describe, in retrospect, as detached bemusement), I asked him to unlock the gate. However, he stood totally still and silent, like my own personal Ghost of Christmas Future, and then told me, once more, to get out. I thought I had better not fail at this next attempt. I tossed my bag, hat, and scarf over, did a bit of a run up, and vaulted inelegantly over, smacking my shin hard on the gate on the way. Seeing the bruise later helped me convince myself that I had not dreamed up this entire episode.

Once he had seen me leave his yard, I thought that Grothendieck might just walk off, but I decided to wait. He did as well, and we studied each other from opposite sides of the gate for a moment. We were a similar height, and his blue eyes were alert and focused. Grothendieck asked me not angrily, but a bit sternly, in French, how I knew his address and how I had gotten there. He told me again that I should not have come in, and should not have disturbed him in his “cloˆıtre”, which reinforced the impression given by the brown robe he wore that he thought of himself, in some sense, as a monk. When I was given the address, I had said I wouldn’t tell Grothendieck how I came by it, so I just watched him silently during this monologue, looking shocked.

Then, he asked me my name, and explained that he could not hear very well anymore and so I must shout into his ear, a piece of information that abruptly made sense of our interaction thus far. It was quite disconcerting to need to get so close to him, and after I said my name I started to spell it to be helpful, but he stopped me partway in since he had already recognized it: a couple of weeks before, I had sent what I now realize was a very enthusiastic fan letter. He then switched to English and, irritably, asked me why I included a French translation. “To be polite? La politesse?” Everything I had seen of Grothendieck’s was written in French or German, and so it had seemed appropriate to me, but it was very apparent that he found my explanation unsatisfactory. Of course he knew English, and I had offended him a little.

He told me he had responded to my letter, explaining that my reasons for contacting him were insufficient, and that I should not visit. I felt a bit deflated as I realized the content of my letter was of course in no way interesting to him, but I also couldn’t help but be a little amused. Trust a mathematician to tell me that my reasons for writing were “not sufficient”. I hadn’t received his response, and realized that including my own name on the return address (rather than the name on the mailbox at the place I was staying) must have been an error. Later, I went to a post office to try to retrieve the letter, but had no luck. Actually, my inquiries ended with the woman working there getting very angry and shouting at me that if the letter was so important I should have addressed it properly – how could it be delivered without the correct name? The people delivering the mail aren’t mind-readers! I made the mistake since US postal workers, also not mind-readers, deliver mail to the address on a letter regardless of the name listed. Trying to explain the reason for the mix-up in my politest French, in the hopes that the worker would feel sympathetic and help me to navigate the system, only brought forth more ire. I’ve still never gotten the letter.

After Grothendieck discovered that I had not received his response to my letter, he seemed to decide that this explained my presence in part, but was still dissatisfied and asked again why I had visited. He told me repeatedly that I should have announced myself. It seemed lost on him that I had no idea how I might have done this. I certainly don’t have his phone number, and would have struggled to provide the information far enough in advance to put in a letter. Did he take carrier pigeons? Clearly a bit suspicious that I had some unsavory motive, he said he thought that my visit must indicate that I wanted something. I told him that maybe he didn’t realize, but he is very famous and I just wanted to meet him. He shrugged and said again that I didn’t have any satisfactory reason for visiting, but I could tell that he was a bit amused by being told that he was famous, and he relaxed a bit.

He told me that he could see from my face that I didn’t have any bad intentions, and that he would never want to harm anyone. I didn’t notice it before, but I saw then that the pitchfork was no longer in his hand, but propped against the fence. He said that he had some bad experiences, and he could not invite me in, though he would like to. If you had received my reply, he said, you would have understood that I am not taking visitors and you should not disturb someone in their retirement. He expected, though, to receive a letter from me soon explaining how I got his address. “C’est la moindre des choses,” he intoned, switching back to French for a moment. He used to receive all his visitors, he said, but he had two very bad experiences and no longer did it, though he was very sorry that I came such a long way to not be invited in, and that he was sorry for himself as well that he was not able to invite me in. He took my hand and shook it. The conversation took a maudlin turn. He told me that he thought we would meet again, very soon, though not in this life. He told me he thought that he would die within the year, though this prediction was made with a practiced air that suggested this was not the first time he had made it.

After these heavy declarations, he turned his attention back to my visit. For all his bluster about not wishing to be disturbed, a part of him was curious about his visitor. How did I get here? On a train? No, in a car. Am I rich? No. Am I poor? Of course I’m poor! I’m a graduate student! I laughed, and he chuckled good-naturedly. Am I alone? Yes. Didn’t I have something for him? The bakery box reemerged, and I opened it to show him the contents. He looked at the pastry inside. What is it? Galettes. What? Galettes! Did you make them? No, I bought them. What? I bought them! Oh, thank you for making them. He took the box from me, and said he wanted to get something for me too, and then went back into his house. I was glad for my instinct to bring baked goods. They smooth everything over in the American midwest, where I’m from.

This conversation had all developed in an unforeseen direction. I had not been able to discuss math with him at all. At one point, when I tried to make our conversation more detailed by writing on a piece of paper, he waved it away. But we spoke more than I had thought we might, and when he came back out of his house he presented me with a tomato and a packet of almond paste. The tomato was large and fresh and came from his garden – impressive for January – and he told me to eat it in good health. He also said I should remember that it was his friend; likely something was lost in translation. The packet of almond paste was very large. A kilo. I was not sure what to make of this generosity, and later, when I baked with it, it was good, though I realized that it had already expired when it was given to me. Almond paste has a very long shelf-life, so Grothendieck had likely had it for quite some time.

After the exchange of gifts was over, it seemed we were finished. Grothendieck wished me well, shook my hand again, and, after entreating me once more to write a letter telling him how I came to know his address, told me goodbye and walked back to his house. I said goodbye as well, but his back was already turned to me and I realized right after I spoke that he likely didn’t hear me.

My experience of the rest of the day was odd and heightened. The drive back through the countryside. The primary colors of the public transit train in Toulouse. The tomato, when I ate it later that day. As the days and weeks went on, the visit was something I reflected on with enjoyment. My burnout faded and I got more excited about my work again.

A little while after my visit, I did write Grothendieck again, but my letter was returned unopened, even though he had requested I write it. I wrote to him a few further times, and my letters all came back unopened and labelled “retour a l’envoyeur” in his distinctive script. I knew from those returned letters that he did not die within a year of my visit, and I was glad to see his prediction was wrong, though after my letters continued to be returned, I gave up on writing. I was sad to learn of his recent death, and I have written about my visit to him as something of a memorial, though of course I am writing not as someone who knew Grothendieck at all, but someone who was interested by his life and work. As I look at the story of my visit, I hope it is clear that I didn’t write it to be disrespectful, or to claim any great insight into Grothendieck’s life, but I wrote it because I think it’s a story worth telling: a bit odd, a bit funny, and, at least to me, a bit meaningful. Despite all the headlines suggesting it would be impossible, I got to meet Alexander Grothendieck in person. Although my fantasies of having some magical conversation about math with him had to be swept aside in the face of the reality that he wasn’t really interested in me (though I have to say he handled my trespassing on his property very cordially), I am grateful to have had the chance to meet him.

[gregor-samsung]

“ La guerra è uno dei principali motivi di frizione tra Joyce [Lussu] e le femministe storiche. Ci sono donne che hanno sostenuto la guerra da complici parassitarie integrate nei meccanismi del capitalismo avanzato. Attorno al tema della guerra, come sappiamo, Joyce ha continuato a lavorare tutta la vita: torna in forma di breve storia antimilitarista ne L’uomo che voleva nascere donna. Diario femminista a proposito della guerra (1978). Joyce contesta la delega agli uomini del «problema della guerra» da parte dei movimenti femminili che così perpetuano «l’antica divisione secondo cui le donne si occupano delle questioni personali e gli uomini di quelle decisive». Per di più questi uomini appartengono a una particolare categoria, quella dedita alla pratica militare che, esattamente come avviene nella pratica religiosa con il clero, esclude totalmente le donne. Dopo il suo impegno in prima linea come resistente e la partecipazione alle liberazioni degli altri, dopo la militanza nel movimento dei Partigiani della pace, nel dopoguerra Joyce affronta la questione militare denunciando due fenomeni tipici dell’epoca che riguardano proprio il nostro paese: la presenza di basi americane nel nostro territorio e le servitù militari imposte alla Sardegna, oltre allo sviluppo dell’industria bellica assai fiorente nell’area del bresciano dove si producono mine, elicotteri e armi sempre più sofisticate che esportate costituiscono una delle voci principali del nostro Pil. “

Silvia Ballestra, La Sibilla. Vita di Joyce Lussu, Laterza (collana I Robinson / Letture), 2022¹; pp. 221-222.

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

Ciò che renderà Boris Vian conosciuto in tutto il mondo è la canzone antimilitarista del 1954 intitolata "Le déserteur"

Frequenta con assiduità i "caffè" parigini, dove nel tempo entrerà in contatto con numerosi artisti ed intellettuali di sinistra: Jean-Paul Sartre, Raymond Queneau, Simone de Beauvoir, Juliette Greco, Marcel Mouloudji, Miles Davis, Duke Ellington ed altri.

[francesca-fra-70]

Murgia in una video-diretta: si giustifica dietro al fatto di essere antimilitarista. Poi afferma che la colpa del possibile fraintendimento è la presenza sul palco del presidente La Russa che ha fatto il segno della vittoria mentre passavano gli uomini del GOI.

Si sente forte, molto forte, lo stridio delle unghie sullo specchio dove si sta arrampicando.😏

[bicheco]

Svizzera

Ero carico a molla, è arrivata la lagna antimilitarista. Meglio la trincea.

Voto: 3

[aitan]

"L'avvoltoio andò dal fiume ed il fiume disse

"No! Avvoltoio vola via, avvoltoio vola via

Nella limpida corrente ora scendon carpe e trote

Non più i corpi dei soldati che la fanno insanguinar"

"Dove vola l'avvoltoio" è una canzone del 1958 scritta da Italo Calvino e musicata da Sergio Liberovici.

La strofa qui sopra fa il paio con quattro versi della più famosa canzone antimilitarista di Italia.

"Lungo le sponde del mio torrente

Voglio che scendano i lucci argentati

Non più i cadaveri dei soldati

Portati in braccio dalla corrente"

Fabrizio De André scrisse "La guerra di Piero" nel 1964, ed è evidente il tributo al testo di Calvino.

Ma De André era una spugna, la migliore delle spugne...

______

La versione di "Dove vola l'avvoltoio" di questo video è quella contenuta in "Cantacronache 2” cantata da Pietro Buttarelli.

"Cantacronache" era un benemerito collettivo di musicisti e letterati che si formò a Torino nel 1957 con lo scopo di valorizzare il mondo della canzone attraverso l'impegno sociale. Nella sua prima fase era formato da Sergio Liberovici e Michele L. Straniero, Fausto Amodei e Margot, cui si aggiunsero intellettuali del calibro di Gianni Rodari, Giorgio De Maria, Umberto Eco e, per l'appunto, Italo Calvino.

# #antiwarsongs

[vocenarrante]

25 COMMEDIE L'idea del divertimento è inevitabilmente associata a quella della risata. Ridere ci piace, perché rilascia le famose endorfine, genera benessere, ci pone in uno stato d'animo positivo, ci rende più disponibili e aperti. Fin dagli albori della civiltà, la commedia è stata sinonimo di evasione, da una giornata di lavoro, dai grattacapi, dai rapporti difficili: una sorta di sospensione della realtà. Le persone accorrevano ad assistere alle commedie di Aristofane, nell'antica Grecia, di Plauto e Terenzio, nell'antica Roma, e così a seguire attraverso i secoli fino ai giorni nostri. La comicità può essere di vario tipo, a seconda del gusto degli spettatori. Si passa da quella più leggera e raffinata,a quella decisamente greve e volgare, dall'umorismo nero a quello surreale o addirittura demenziale. Tutto va bene, purché faccia ridere. Voglio iniziare questa rassegna non già da Charlie Chaplin, come molti si aspetterebbero, perché meriterebbe da solo una rassegna a parte. Il primo film che vi suggerisco è "La guerra lampo" del 1933. I fratelli Marx furono un gruppo comico statunitense di origine ebraica che raggiunse l'apice del successo proprio nell'intervallo fra le due guerre mondiali. Il loro umorismo sferzante, irriverente, avrebbe influenzato molti altri comici nei decenni successivi. "La guerra lampo" sta a metà fra la parodia dell'operetta e la satira antimilitarista, che raggiungerà il suo punto culminante sette anni dopo con "Il grande dittatore" di Chaplin. Le risate sono innescate da una serie di gag irresistibili, come quella insuperabile dello specchio. — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/p6Rn3F0

[jgmail]

¿Es la extrema derecha una vanguardia cultural?

Traducción de Juan Gabriel Caro Rivera

 El escritor Stéphane François acaba de publicar el libro Une avant–garde d’extrême droite. Contre-culture, conservatisme radical et tentations modernistes en Editions de la Lanterne. Presentamos a continuación una traducción de las dos entrevistas que le hicieron a raíz del mismo en Le Monde y en L'Humanité.

 En el libro que acaba de publicar usted aborda el tema de la extrema derecha desde un punto de vista cultural, haciendo énfasis en sus referencias históricas, religiosas, musicales o literarias. ¿Podría clasificárselos como una forma de contracultura?

 Sí, por supuesto, pero es un tema mucho más complejo: la contracultura apareció por primera vez en la década de 1960 en los Estados Unidos de la mano de la oposición a la guerra de Vietnam, desarrollándose como un movimiento anti-conservador y antimilitarista mezclando diversos elementos en su seno que iban desde referencias académicas hasta aspectos populares, espirituales, políticos o musicales. La extrema derecha ha hecho algo similar, pero mucho después: solo fue a partir de la década de 1970 que comenzaron a hacer referencia a la cultura popular, en particular en Italia. Los militantes de la extrema derecha, especialmente los neofascistas, comenzaron a utilizar estos elementos populares y los impregnaban de su respectiva ideología. Un ejemplo claro fueron los campamentos italianos en honor al Hobbit organizados por la sección juvenil del neofascista Movimiento Social Italiano explícitamente conectados a la mitología de Tolkien. Posteriormente, esta misma organización público varios folletos de este estilo cargados de referencias contraculturales. Solo hay que ver como la extrema derecha utiliza películas como 300 para hablar de Esparta o hace referencias a grupos musicales o cantantes como Joy Division, Morrissey y Smiths. A pesar de la mezcla de elementos heterogéneos, intentan darle coherencia intelectual y cultural a su movimiento.

 ¿Es una forma coherente de pensar?

 Sí, aunque esta contracultura de extrema derecha hace referencia principalmente a elementos de religiosos marginales, el paganismo o las vanguardias conservadoras. Su objetivo es crear una cultura común que suplante a la cultura dominante actual. Ahora bien, esta cultura es excluyente, pero tiene diversas corrientes en su seno como, por ejemplo, los neopaganos, los católicos tradicionalistas o los skinheads de extrema derecha. Lo que los une es el deseo de crear una contracultura “blanca” para sus descendientes basada en los valores europeos.

 ¿Qué influencia tienen estas corrientes marginales de la extrema derecha en movimientos políticos como Rassemblement National (RN) o Reconquête?

 Es necesario diferenciar entre el discurso público dirigido a todos y las referencias que solo son entendidas por los militantes. Las referencias que utilizan los activistas más antiguos y radicales no son las mismas que las del votante promedio que elige votar por el RN por odio o rechazo al “sistema”. Las referencias culturales de los primeros son muy radicales y provienen de esta contracultura de extrema derecha, mientras que para los segundos estas referencias son prácticamente incomprensibles, especialmente todo lo que tiene que ver con el paganismo y el esoterismo. No obstante, de vez en cuando la cultura de los militantes radicales de extrema derecha se hace claramente visible como, por ejemplo, en la defensa del localismo por los políticos identitarios del RN. Es una referencia directa a las patrias carnales de Charles Maurras y las ideas identitarias de la Nueva Derecha que tienen matices y expresiones culturales muy profundas o diversas.

 Lo mismo podemos decir de la teoría conspiracionista de la “gran sustitución” adoptada por muchos políticos...

 Sí, es una teoría que tiene su origen en los círculos nazis de la década de 1950 y que fue difundida por Dominique Venner [un destacado intelectual de la extrema derecha] en la década de 1960 y, posteriormente, durante la década de 1970 por la Nueva Derecha. Este discurso sin duda se ha atenuado, pero ha mantenido muchos de sus elementos originales.

 La candidata favorita para las elecciones legislativas italianas, Giorgia Meloni, ha asumido esta contracultura al asistir al festival anual de Atreju, el cual hace referencia a La historia sin fin. ¿Qué podemos decir de Francia?

 La situación de ambos países es muy diferente y está ligada a sus historias nacionales. El fascismo ha vuelto a ser aceptado en Italia como fuerza política ya que fue un movimiento político relevante allí. En cambio, podemos decir que un manto de plomo fue puesto sobre la extrema derecha francesa después de 1945 y no ha sido capaz de quitárselo. En Francia los escritores de extrema derecha se resistieron durante mucho tiempo a crear una cultural juvenil para sus militantes y esa es la razón por la que imitan a los italianos, siendo estos últimos los primeros en adoptar como referentes a Yukio Mishima y Ernst Jünger.

 ¿Qué interés puede tener el estudio de todas estas corrientes culturales para un investigador? ¿Y por qué se estudian tan poco?

 Creo que he intentado demostrar que la extrema derecha no es tan pobre intelectualmente como siempre se cree y que han construido un mundo muy complejo lleno de muchísimas referencias intelectual desde la década de 1930. Incluso han estudiado la experiencia de otros movimientos, en particular de la izquierda y la extrema izquierda. El hecho de que sea un tema tan poco estudiado se debe al miedo, el desprecio e incluso la condescendencia. A menudo me dicen: “¿Cómo puedes estudiar tal cosa? Es imposible”. Le explico a mis colegas que es un tema fascinante porque la extrema derecha no son solamente brutos agresivos, sino que entre sus filas existen intelectuales muy sofisticados... Además, muchas veces me reprochan que debería juzgarlos o tomar partido, una actitud que es muy común en algunos intelectuales que ven “roji-pardos” por todas partes y se niegan a estudiar lo que dicen sus enemigos por miedo a que el contacto con ellos los contamine.

 Tu anterior libro verso sobre la ecología y la extrema derecha, ahora has escrito uno sobre la relación de la extrema derecha con la cultura y sus diferentes manifestaciones ¿Por qué crees este tema es importante para comprender esta clase de movimientos políticos?

 Fue un tema que siempre me intereso, especialmente porque hice parte de los ambientes de la música independiente. De joven estuve muy involucrado con la cultura industrial (un movimiento musical experimental heredero del punk). Rápidamente me di cuenta que este movimiento estaba infiltrado por varios fanzines o grupos de extrema derecha. Fue así como comencé a reflexionar sobre este tema. Esta clase de producciones culturales cumplen una serie de funciones estratégicas que no siempre son llevadas a cabo de forma consciente. En primer lugar, esta cultura esta destinada a los militantes de la extrema derecha, pues les permite crear vínculos entre ellos.

 En tu libro dices que esta clase de producciones culturales de la extrema derecha resultan inconcebibles especialmente para la izquierda. No obstante, ¿por qué usas la expresión “vanguardia”?

 Muchas veces creemos que la extrema derecha es contrarrevolucionaria o reaccionaria, pero muchas corrientes asociadas a ella son en realidad revolucionarias y hacen referencias a las vanguardias artísticas – sobre todo el futurismo –. Revistas como Zentromag (perteneciente al sitio alternativo Zentropa) es futurista y usa los colores rojo-blanco-negro. Algunos de estos grupos incluso se definen como “vanguardias conservadoras” y cuentan con una producción artística de muy alta calidad.

 Toda vanguardia debe tener referencias intelectuales importantes y usted analiza algunas de ellas. ¿Cuáles serían los principales autores?

 La figura internacional más influyente de todas es Alexander Dugin. Alain de Benoist sería en Francia el principal referente, aunque él constantemente lo niega. Además, varias instituciones importantes, en particular el Institut Iliade, promueven una especie de “cristianismo pagano” o “cristianismo identitario”. Hace diez años llamarse “católico tradicional” dentro de los círculos de la extrema derecha fascista o revolucionaria estaba mal visto, pero hoy no sucede lo mismo.

 Uno de los principales referentes de estas vanguardias de la extrema derecha es la organización italiana CasaPound. ¿Cuál es su influencia?

 Tiene mucha influencia. Su nombre hace referencia al poeta vanguardista estadounidense Ezra Pound, simpatizante del fascismo. Es una organización que retoma los códigos contraculturales: es una especie de casa okupa que promueve conciertos de grupos góticos o punk, concursos de grafitis, exposiciones, etc. CasaPound fue un modelo que intento aplicarse a Francia y no funcionó, aunque tuvo una importante influencia intelectual. Los neofascistas italianos siempre han sido vanguardistas y se sienten atraídos por la Modernidad.

 Retomemos el problema con el que comienza el libro: la cuestión religiosa o, más bien, el hecho religioso. Es bien conocida la defensa de la “Europa cristiana”, pero este tema se mezcla con el problema del retorno a las raíces. ¿Cuál es el papel que juega la religión en la extrema derecha?

 Es fundamental, porque la religión da un sentido de identidad. Normalmente se defiende la cultura clásica y el Occidente cristiano como lo hacían los regímenes de Franco y Salazar. No obstante, desde la década de 1920, en particular entre los nazis, han existido grupos anticristianos que promueven una concepción pagana del mundo. Todos estos grupos comparten una preocupación por reconstruir una identidad común y una concepción étnica de la religión. Podríamos decir que se trata de una especie de cristianismo paganizado: su “genialidad” subyace en el hecho de que no existe necesariamente oposición entre los dos o, en otras palabras, subrayar los elementos paganos presentes en el cristianismo y deshacerse de los elementos judíos extraños a los europeos.

 También has escrito un capítulo dedicado a la fascinación de la extrema derecha por la Edad Media. ¿Por qué crees que se produce este fenómeno?

 Existen varias razones: para los reaccionarios y cristianos es una época donde se produjo el enfrentamiento entre los cristianos y los sarracenos, las cruzadas y la defensa del Occidente cristiano por parte de Hugo Capeto o la Reconquista española. Por otro lado, la extrema derecha considera la Edad Media como una suerte de edad de oro de la sociedad europea tradicional: una sociedad ordenada y orgánica gobernada por una élite aristocrática que les fascina. Por supuesto, en semejante sociedad medieval muchos de los actuales defensores de la extrema derecha no habrían sido parte de la aristocracia sino siervos pertenecientes al tercer estado, algo que muchas veces olvida el discurso tradicionalista, aristocrático, organicista y guerrero que ellos defienden.

 La figura del caballero en la portada de tu libro es interesante... ¿Qué papel juega la mitología nórdica en el imaginario de la extrema derecha?

 Sigue siendo parte de la Edad Media, pero el vikingo es un hombre libre, guerrero y conquistador. La extrema derecha ha tenido polémicas intelectuales muy fuertes con los historiadores especializados en el mundo nórdico, tachándolos de “convertir a los vikingos en comerciantes, mientras que en realidad eran conquistadores que iban a la guerra en sus barcos”. El vikingo es reivindicado como el prototipo racial europeo ideal de la siguiente manera: cuanto más cerca se encuentre del Polo Norte más puro eres espiritual y genéticamente.

 ¿Crees que existe una relación entre la contracultura de extrema derecha y el actual ascenso político de esta última?

 Creo que se trata de un tema secundario, porque el objetivo de la extrema derecha es atraer votantes. Las vanguardias artísticas son más bien patrimonio de los grupos radicales, pero existen vínculos entre ellos. Por ejemplo, buena parte del Institute Iliade hizo parte de los asesores de Eric Zemmour. Partidos políticos como el RN defienden más bien el localismo.

 Extraído de https://tempspresents.com/2022/09/23/lextreme-droite-une-avant-garde-contre-culturelle/

[sobrelaanarquiayotrostemas]

Jules Alexandre Sadier (Vida y obra)

Tal día como 5 de julio de hace 162 años nació Jules Alexandre Sadier, conocido como Alex. Nació el 5 de julio, muchas fuentes citan erróneamente el 7 de junio de 1862, en Arquian, Borgoña, (Francia) y murió el 8 de marzo de 1936 en Buenos Aires (Argentina). Fue un militante y propagandista anarquista y antimilitarista francoargentino.

[josemanuellopezsanmartin]

Barthélemy de Ligt o Bartolomé de Ligt o Bart de Ligt (Vida y obra)

Tal día como el 17 de julio de hace 141 años nació Barthélemy de Ligt o Bartolomé de Ligt o Bart de Ligt.. Nació el 17 de julio de 1883 en Schalkwijk, Utrecht, (Países Bajos) y falleció el 3 de septiembre de 1938 en Nantes, Loira Atlántico, Países de la Loire, (Francia). Fue un holandés, anarquista, pacifista, antimilitarista y libertario.