Thursday, September 6, 2007

Globalization

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A visitor to, say, Sienna, might be hard put to find an expatriate from the U.S. living there, but s/he would have no trouble finding a McDonald’s serving up the same hamburger as in San Francisco, California. And I dare say that even a Tuscan not from Sienna able to identify the heraldic devices of the various wards is quite rare, but rare indeed would be the Italian who could not identify the twin arches or on a field gules.

Such is the globalization of unbridled capitalism that the United States and the multinational corporations are hell-bent on imposing upon the world, while immigrants fleeing into the ‘First World’ from the poverty fomented by such capitalism in the ‘Third world” (there is no longer any ‘Second’) are increasingly discriminated against and persecuted.
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Borders

(in memory of my comadre Guillermina Valdés de Villalva,
Lady of the Border)*


Born and raised on the border of Cd. Juárez/El Paso, it seems I am destined to borders. Indeed, I now live straddling the border of another couple of cities, cooking my meals in Berkeley and sitting to eat them in Oakland. Mine is a life of borders; I straddle them all and in given circumstances they blur, diffuse, dissolve — racial, cultural, linguistic, philosophical, sexual, emotional, artistic, spiritual, political, what have you. I know borders, and I do not believe in them. So I guess I am a globalist; for a long time, I have considered myself a citizen of the world.

But borders, artificial and arbitrary though they be, exist and are enforced. Even so, borders are permeable, selectively permeable though they most often are. With family on both sides of the Río Grande, growing up with dual-citizenship (until I joined the U.S. Navy just out of high school) and being completely bilingual, I went back and forth between Mexico and the United States with ease and freedom. (Ironically, the only problem I ever encountered was when I returned to El Paso many years later. Driving back from Juárez late after a party one night, I was ordered out of my car and slavering dogs were let loose in it sniffing for drugs while I was stripped searched; I wore my hair rather long then and it made no difference to the custom officers that I was Visiting Professor of Philosophy at the University of Texas, El Paso. I can still taste that humiliation, helplessness, and rage.)

I realized even as a youth that my ease with borders was a privilege granted me by circumstance, the class to which I belonged. My family was known in Cd. Juárez and in El Paso and my privilege was attested to by my very speech. I knew the permeability of borders and I also knew that permeability was selective. No gringo (U.S. citizen) was ever refused entrance into Juárez that I ever heard of, but many Mexicans less privileged than I were refused entry into El Paso every day. (I use the word “gringo,” roughly meaning “foreigner,” as an entirely neutral appellative. You see, the citizen of the United States does not have a proper name. The term “American” belongs to everyone and everything in this hemisphere from Alaska to Patagonia, and the U.S. citizen has no legitimate exclusive claim to it at all. In want of a proper name, gringo will have to do.)

Borders have always been a passionate topic, long, long before the first stone was ever laid for the Great Wall in China, but borders is a particularly hot topic in the age of “globalization” where nations (and the corporations, the powers behind them, or at least ours) talk of relaxing them. What they really mean, is making them more permeable, selectively permeable, of course. Under the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) no one is in any doubt but that it is the United States who calls the shots. At least it is so on the border of my birth where the maquiladoras (assembly plants) of mostly U.S. companies have wreaked such havoc, economic, cultural, environmental. According to a survey of the Economic Policy Institute, since NAFTA was implemented after January 1, 1994, what we see are “a continent-wide pattern of stagnant worker incomes, lost job opportunities, increased insecurity, and rising inequality.” Pollution in all three countries has continued to rise, especially along the U.S.-Mexico border where maquiladoras are wide-spread.

Globalization, the relaxing of borders, is only a scheme to make borders more selectively permeable to benefit the haves at the expense of the have-nots. What else is new? The only difference is that the sovereignty of governments becomes subordinate to the power (and cupidity) of corporations, of unbridled capitalism. It is a question of power. The United States is adamant in protecting its borders, but it has never been scrupulous in honoring the borders of other nations, especially those of Latin America. Intervention is endemic to us and the Monroe Doctrine is little more than staking a claim. The fact is that we do not even have to recur to the Monroe Doctrine in order to intervene in countries such as Guatemala, Nicaragua, El Salvador, Chile, Bolivia, Columbia, Panama and others throughout the Americas, not to mention others outside the American hemisphere.

Certainly I think trade is beneficial, the exchange of goods that a country produces for goods produced by another country. Sugar cane does not grow in Maine and blue-berries do not grow in Cuba — let’s trade and let borders blur. But it has to be a trade and a blurring between people in their full sovereignty, which means that environmental and social guarantees (human rights as defined by the United Nations Universal Declaration on Human Rights) are in place and enforced. That is the root of the confrontation that occurred in Genoa — and Seattle, Washington, Montreal, Barcelona, and that will take place in other cities in which such meetings to globalize trade may be held.

International trade and the power of corporations aside, the seamless nature of the environment and the Earth aside, borders in the electronic age are made even more untenable by a technology of instant communication, an internet that functions almost like an artificial nervous system further breaching borders, attenuating them, dissolving them, at least as far as traffic in information is concerned.

Here, too, permeation of borders is selective. And as with me growing up at the pass, El Paso, language constitutes the passport, the proof of privilege. Apart from the cost of computers (few people in Mexico have them, many in the U.S. do; the rich have them, the poor do not) it is language that decides the permeability of national borders. It is not only a matter of Spanish, English, Italian, Náhuatl, Maya-Quiché, Guaraní, but the creation of a lingua franca like that of mathematics available to all.

Such a language is in the making, the language of the computer, Computerese if you will. It is a created language and its creation is in the hands of a techno-priestly class whose pope is Bill Gates. All written languages at their beginnings (and arguably their ends) are the domain of the empowered and highly protected by its high-priests throughout history, the Egyptian hieroglyphs, the Chinese ideograms, the Celtic runes, the Latin alphabet, the Nahua pictographs, the Maya texts, a monopoly of those in power. Micro-Soft’s is a protected monopoly, patented, enforced.

As with all language, it creates a cosmology, a consciousness, that can easily be as restricting as it can be liberating. Until the creation, the modification of computer language (or languages) is shared by everyone equally, it will create boundaries, borders, even as it breaches them. (I say this as one hardly literate in computers, distrustful and resentful of those who own the processes, control them, stifle others for the immense profit of it. Thank the gods for the protestors of “globalization,” also for the hackers, Luddites many, guerrillas with their viral Trojan horses undermining the citadels of Micro-Soft and their ilk, with many of us, to be sure, caught in the middle.)

Such it is with borders, and with living on them. Let them dissolve. There is no protection but that of sharing power and the wealth of the Earth. The Earth is one seamless whole; let us be part of it in a sensible, humane way and share in its riches equitably with all our relations (human, animal, plant, mineral) in justice (environmental, economic, political, civil) without which there can be no peace. No other way is acceptable. Let borders exist when they are useful toward this end. When justice and peace become the goals of globalization, borders will dissolve of themselves. Meanwhile I have resigned myself to borders, straddle them, blur them, and dissolve them wherever I can — and work toward justice and peace.


------------------------------------------------© Rafael Jesús González 2007

----------------------------------------------------Berkeley, Alta California



* Guillermina Valdés (1940-1991) among many other things, founder & director of the Colegio de la Frontera, a border-studies institute in Cd. Juárez with branches in Tijuana, and other border cities; and founder/director of the Centro de Orientación para la Mujer Obrera, dealing with women’s issues on the border, especially of the women workers in the maquiladoras (assembly plants), was killed September 11, 1991 in a Continental Airlines crash near Houston, Texas, returning from inaugurating a Colegio de la Frontera in Piedras Negras, Coahuila.



12/15/39 - 9/11/91

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[first published (Spanish & English) in Wired On Line, San Francisco, August 24, 2001; author’s copyrights. Translated into Japanese and included in War and Our World, Koichi Edagawa, Ed.; Taiyo-Kikaku Shuppan Publishing, Tokyo 2003.]
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Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Hurricane Katrina two years later

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It has been two years since Hurricane Katrina and the devastation of New Orleans and surrounding areas. A great deal of suffering and death could have been prevented and little has been done to heal and repair. The government conceals and denies its responsibility and what is done is in the hands of the organizations, like Common Ground, that the people form. The United States has lost the birthplace of its soul, jazz, its only major contribution to world art, an art created by its people of African origin brought to its shores as slaves.

Let us work to build a democracy and save the nation’s soul.





---Full Moon Over New Orleans
--------After the Hurricane


The full moon hangs
over what was New Orleans,
its whiteness stained & broken
on the fetid waters.
Drowned are
the jasmine & the gardenias,
the oaks & the magnolias,
the trumpets,
-------the saxophones,
----------------the drums.
The city that dreamt itself living,
---------big & easy,
on Burgundy
-------between piety & desire,
lies under a watery shroud,
its most grievous sins
exposed to the world.

The full moon
breaks & drowns,
dirty in the fetid waters.



------© Rafael Jesús González 2007


(in Words Upon the Waters, Brundage, Karla, Ed.;
San Francisco (Jukebox Press) 2006; author’s copyrights)




---Luna Plena sobre Nuevo Orleans
---------despues del huracán


Cuelga la luna plena
sobre lo que fue Nueva Orleans,
su blancura manchada y rota
en las aguas fétidas.
Se ahogaron
los jasmines y las gardenias,
los robles y las magnolias,
las trompetas,
-------los saxófonos,
---------------los tambores.
La ciudad que se soñaba vivir,
-------grande y fácil,
de borgoña
-----entre la piedad y el deseo,
yace bajo una mortaja de agua,
sus pecados más graves
expuestos al mundo.

La luna plena
se quiebra y se ahoga,
sucia en las aguas fétidas.



------© Rafael Jesús González 2007



(en Words Upon the Waters, Brundage, Karla, Ed.;
San Francisco (Jukebox Press) 2006; derechos del autor)



© Rafael Jesús González 2005




------Dña. Catrina en Nueva Orleans


¿Cómo no había de llegar
la Dña. Catrina a Nueva Orleans?
Llegó acompañada de los vientos
de su comadre Oyá,
de las aguas del Señor Tláloc,
esperando conocer a la familia de Degas.
Sacudió los robles y las magnolias
como las plumas de avestruz de su sombrero
e hizo encajes de los balcones y los portales,
se engalanó de jasmines y mirtos.
Vino ostentosa y exigente,
avara y celosa de sus derechos y privilegios
-------y conquistó la ciudad
de pretensiones francesas y señorales
a cuestas de los hijos de esclavos.
Exigió que tantos le hicieran homenaje,
que tantos llenaran su lista de baile.

Así es la terrible Dña. Catrina
y así vino a Nueva Orleans.


------© Rafael Jesús González 2007




-----Mdme. Katrina in New Orleans


How could she not come,
Mdme. Katrina, to New Orleans?
She came accompanied by the winds
of her comadre Oyá,
the waters of Lord Tlaloc,
hoping to meet the family of Degas.
She shook the oaks & the magnolias
like the ostrich plumes of her hat
& made lace of the balconies & the porches,
adorned herself with jasmine & myrtle.
She arrived ostentatious & demanding,
greedy & jealous of her rights & privileges,
--------& conquered the city
of French & lordly pretensions
on the backs of the children of slaves.
She demanded that so many pay her homage,
that so many fill her dance card.

Such is the terrible Mdme. Katrina
& thus she came to New Orleans.


------© Rafael Jesús González 2007



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Tuesday, August 28, 2007

full moon: Sometimes the Full Moon

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© Rafael Jesús González 2007

----A veces la luna plena
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--------------------a Elena

A veces la luna plena
es tan fría que no parece
merecer ser tan bella.

Pero hay noches
en que la datura amarilla
con su perfume espeso
le presta a la luna color y calor.

Esas noches es testigo la luna
de que lo que hemos bailado
ni la muerte nos puede quitar.

A veces la luna plena
es tan bella que no parece
merecer ser tan fría.


------© Rafael Jesús González 2007
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© Rafael Jesús Gonzalez 2007


----Sometimes the Full Moon

------------------for Elena

Sometimes the full moon
is so cold that it seems
not to deserve being so beautiful.

But some nights
the yellow datura
with its dense perfume
lends color & warmth to the moon.

The moon is witness, those nights,
that what we have danced
not even death can take from us.

Sometimes the full moon
is so beautiful that it seems
not to deserve being so cold.


------© Rafael Jesús González 2007




Elena Castañeda (August 24, 1951 - August 9, 2007)





----Às vezes, a Lua Plena

----------------para Elena

Às vezes, a lua cheia,
é tão fria ,que parece
não merecer ser assim ,tão bela.

Porém há noites,
em que a datura amarela,
com seu denso perfume,
empresta à lua, cor e calor.

Nestas noites, a lua testemunha
de que aquilo que um dia dançamos,
nem a morte pode acabar.

às vezes, a lua cheia,
é tão bela que nem parece
merecer aparentar ser fria.


------© Rafael Jesús González 2007

---------translation into portugues by

----------© Clevane Pessoa 2007

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Thursday, August 9, 2007

Nagasaki

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Let us keep a moment of silence for Nagasaki which, three days after Hiroshima , sixty-two years ago was victim of a nuclear bomb. Never, ever must we allow this to happen again.




Cranes Fly for Peace Tanka


A girl in Japan
taught the world to fold paper
cranes — still there is war.
Blessings written on their wings,
oh, paper cranes, fly for peace.



---------------------© Rafael Jesús González 2007
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Monday, August 6, 2007

Hiroshima/Nagasaki

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It was on this day in 1945, sixty-two years ago, that the United States dropped an atomic bomb on the city of Hiroshima, Japan. Three days later, another on Nagasaki. We must never let it happen again; we must work for complete nuclear disarmament throughout the world.


-----------------------------------Andreas Bauer




Origami Crane Tanka


It's said that if you
fold one-thousand paper cranes
your wish will come true.
For peace I would gladly spend
the rest of my days folding.


-----------------------© Rafael Jesús González 2007




In June of 1983, imprisoned in Santa Rita Prison because of blocking the entrance of Lawrence Livermore Laboratories, California, where nuclear arms are designed, we occupied ourselves folding cranes from old newspapers; among us all, we made more than a thousand to send to Japan.


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Sunday, August 5, 2007

Bread & Puppet

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Bread & Puppet


I just received the link Arts: Puppets and Protest on the Bread & Puppet Theater from a friend and it served as a reminder that exactly twenty years ago my compadre John McLeod and I traveled cross-country to Glover, Vermont to work with Peter Schumann. It was a summer-camp for workaholics. Besides taking part in every aspect of the large productions and performances, John and I wrote a script (on the Onondaga origins of the Iroquois League, on which the U. S. Constitution is based, the theme that year), directed it, designed and worked on the construction of the set, designed and worked on the costumes, and performed in it. I cannot find the script, lost forever perhaps, but I share with you the closing poem below.

That was the year that was: recently returned from a trip to Europe, that spring I attended the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival for my first time, the Sun Dance of the Arapaho in Ignacio, Colorado just before traveling to Vermont, and upon my return to San Francisco Bay, conducted the Wakwa Society’s medicine wheel to mark the Harmonic Convergence.

Now, twenty years later, we are experiencing the darkness predicted before a new age of enlightenment is birthed: the Earth is severely wounded, our government is in the hands of fascists (government lies, illegal and untenable wars, habeas corpus suspended, torture a national policy, unauthorized surveillance of the citizenry, illegalization of protest and dissent by executive order, wealth more and more concentrated in the hands of the few — and the list goes on.)

But we need not, must not let it become even darker before the light breaks. We are, or must become, the light. We are not powerless and must not allow ourselves to be made so. It is in our hands if we accept that responsibility (and even if we do not.) Throughout the world, let us work from the heart through our every work and art to heal ourselves and the Earth.

© Rafael Jesús González 2007




Let the Hand Do


What the heart professes
------let the hand do —
the caress, the rite,
the healing touch,
the greeting,
the hoisted beam,
the woven net,
the record on the rock.
-----Let the act
give body to the thought,
for what the hand touches
----------or performs
gives substance
to what the heart informs.



------© Rafael Jesús González 2007




Que la Mano Haga


Que lo que el corazón profese
-----la mano haga —
la caricia, el rito,
el toque que sana,
el saludo,
la viga elevada,
la red tejida,
la inscripción en la piedra.
-----Que el acto
le dé cuerpo al pensar,
que lo que la mano toca
----------o hace
le da sustancia
a lo que el corazón informa.



------© Rafael Jesús González 2007
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Friday, August 3, 2007

The Hands Are a World

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The Hands are a World


We do not hold the world in our hands
but our hands are the world
they impose upon the Earth —
be it with a caress
or with a blow.

Let us hold hands
& make the world whole.


------© Rafael Jesús González 2007

(Arabesques Review, vol. 3 no . 3, 2007; author’s copyrights)



Las manos mundo son


No tenemos el mundo en las manos
mas son las manos el mundo
que le imponen a la Tierra —
ya sea con una caricia
o con un golpe.

Tomémonos de la mano
y hagamos un mundo entero.



------© Rafael Jesús González 2007



-----As mãos são o Mundo


Não temos o Mundo nas mãos,
mas são as mãos, o Mundo
que o impõem à Terra,
seja com uma carícia
ou com um golpe.

De mãos dadas,
façamos um Mundo inteiro.


------© Rafael Jesús González 2007

---------translation into portugues by

----------© Clevane Pessoa 2007






---------The Flag


At our best
we show our true colors,
fly the flag that stands
for our deepest, broadest
allegiance to each other,
to the Earth holy & diverse.

These are my colors:

purple of my sorrows, my remorse,
my shame for betrayals of the heart,
most often of omission,
through weariness or fear.

blue of my memories
that make my history of wings
that soar to the mountains
& drop to the ravines,
complex topography of myself.

green of my hopes that wing
my desires & lend will
to my acts, that inform
even my opposition
to outrage.

yellow of my joy that tastes
of the sun, exultation in the
wealth of the senses,
root of my power & my love.

orange of my abandon, my surrender
to my living, mindless of laws
that would fetter the steps
of my wildest dances.

red of my love that colors all
& is the root & flower & fruit,
the heart of my belief
& what I know of truth.

This is my flag;
-----its colors run,
diffuse at the edges,
-----blend, shade
into hues, half-tones
-----difficult to name.

The tongues that praise it
are so many, so varied, & so sweet
their chorus rivals the birds’
& silences the angels in their flight.

Known everywhere
-----as sign of peace & joy,
let this be our flag;
----------its colors dance.



------© Rafael Jesús González 2007

(Arabesques Review, vol. 3 no . 3, 2007; author’s copyrights)







-----------------La bandera


En nuestro óptimo
mostramos nuestros verdaderos colores,
volamos la bandera que señala
nuestra más profunda, más amplia
devoción uno al otro,
a la Tierra bendita y diversa.

Son estos mis colores:

purpúreo de mi tristeza, remordimiento,
mi pena por las traiciones del corazón,
más bien de omisión,
por motivos de cansancio o temor.

azul de mis memorias
que forman mi historia de alas
que suben a las montañas
y caen a las barrancas,
compleja topografía de mi ser.

verde de mi esperanza que da alas
a mis deseos y presta voluntad
a mis actos, que informa
aun mi oposición
al ultraje.

amarillo de mis regocijo que sabe
a sol, exaltación
en la riqueza de los sentidos,
raíz de mi poder y mi amar.

anaranjado de mi abandono, entrega
a mi vivir , despreocupado de leyes
que encadenaran los pasos
de mis más extravagantes bailes.

rojo de mi amor que ilumina todo
y es la raíz y la flor y el fruto,
el corazón de mi creer
y de lo que sé de la verdad.

Es esta mi bandera;
----- se corren sus colores,
se difunden en sus bordes,
------se mezclan, se matizan
en tonos, medio tonos
-----difíciles de nombrar.

Las lenguas que la alaban
son tantas, tan variadas y tan dulces
que su coro rivaliza con el de las aves
y silencia a los ángeles en sus vuelos.

Reconocida por dondequiera
------como signo de la paz y el regocijo,
sea este nuestro pabellón;
----------bailan sus colores.


-----------© Rafael Jesús González 2007




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