The Will To Power in the Exceptional

"Christianity is called the religion of pity. Pity stands opposed to the powerful emotions which heighten our vitality; it has a depressing effect. We are deprived of strength when we feel pity...

What is good? All that heightens the feeling of power in a man, the will to power, power itself. What is bad? All that is born of weakness. What is happiness? The feeling that power is growing, that resistance is overcome."

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Antichrist

 

 'What is truth?' asked the cynical bureaucrat Pilate, and then turned and washed his hands of it.

 

 

 

"Cultures that do not recognize that human life and the natural world have a sacred dimension, an intrinsic value beyond monetary value, cannibalize themselves until they die. They ruthlessly exploit the natural world and the members of their society in the name of progress until exhaustion or collapse, blind to the fury of their own self-destruction...

The corporations, and those who run them, consume, pollute, oppress and kill. The little Eichmanns who manage them reside in a parallel universe of staggering wealth, luxury and splendid isolation that rivals that of the closed court of Versailles. The elite, sheltered and enriched, continue to prosper even as the rest of us and the natural world start to die. They are numb. They will drain the last drop of profit from us until there is nothing left. And our business schools and elite universities churn out tens of thousands of these deaf, dumb and blind systems managers who are endowed with sophisticated skills of management and the incapacity for common sense, compassion or remorse. These technocrats mistake the art of manipulation with knowledge."

Chris Hedges

 

“All life has inestimable value even the weakest and most vulnerable, the sick, the old, the unborn and the poor, are masterpieces of God’s creation, made in his own image, destined to live forever, and deserving of the utmost reverence and respect...

All too often, as we know from experience, people do not choose life, they do not accept the Gospel of Life but let themselves be led by ideologies and ways of thinking that block life, that do not respect life, because they are dictated by selfishness, self-interest, profit, power and pleasure, and not by love, by concern for the good of others...

As a result, the living God is replaced by fleeting human idols which offer the intoxication of a flash of freedom, but in the end bring new forms of slavery and death...

Francis I

 

I have long felt that the basis of our economic and political discussions are a distraction, and by design.   They force us to operate from some fundamental policy assumptions that prevent a discussion of our current state of affairs in a necessarily frank and fundamental manner.

El Greco, Fábula of Boy Lighting Candle With a Fool and an Ape

With regard to economics and political systems, a 'practical person' may decide on whichever form of government serves their own private interests best.  

 

The amoral person chooses what is expedient, and in this they are little different from the worst, because they will go along with whatever serves their own power and self-interest above all.  They will rationalize themselves into a hell on earth, or hereafter.

 

A 'moral being' must choose what is just, as defined by some higher principle of justice for all.  And that choice must be made because it is inherent in being human.

 

Just as love is the touchstone in religion, justice is the touchstone in public policy. 

 

Exceptionalism is no virtue, no mark of the chosen, but merely the sin of pride, wearing the silks of rationalization and self-delusion.  And this is at the root of every fallen angel, every lost soul, and every failing nation.

 

I am not here making an appeal to the careless few based on either faith or reason.  Alas, I fear they are now beyond both morality and common sense, until a reckoning comes.

 

Rather, in this solemn season I am reminding the faithful and the many of a message they have probably heard, and forgotten, so often.  A man cannot serve two masters.  He will love the one, and hate the other.

 

The ultimate question is, 'whom do you serve?'  Choose as you will, but you will live with your choice, forever.  We do not choose all at once, but every day, and in all our actions, whether we are consciously aware of our choice or not.

Your carelessness and self-approval, your reputation and connections, your associations and positions, will be of no comfort and value to you then.  When exposed by the light your life of self-absorption and exceptional selfishness will be an ever stinging rebuke of burning regret and torment.  Not that you have betrayed and traded away so much that is good, but that you have done it for so little.

“A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death - the huge solace of thinking that for our betrayals, greed, cowardice, and murders that we are not going to be judged.”

Czesław Miłosz

 

SP 500 and NDX Futures Daily Charts - The Pomp of Courts, the Pride of Kings...

 

One of my readers noted, more elegantly than I can remember, that le café has a remarkably eclectic menu, with wrestler Ric Flair and monetary discussion juxtaposed with John Henry Newman and Mad Magazine style satirical cartoons.

 

After thinking about it I said, I had not thought about it like that, but you are right.

 

Old familiar things seem to pop into my head from past things read, and thanks to the internet, it is relatively easy for my poor overburdened memory to refresh itself about them.   So it was with the subtitle of this little discourse's subtitle today, 'The pomp of courts, the pride of Kings.' 

 

I remembered it, but had to look up its context and detail, and I include that bit of historical diversion below the charts today.  It is an interesting little poetical puzzle and reminds us of a time when freedom of thought and press was much more constrained that it is now.

 

I find the world to be full of endlessly fascinating people and things, and books, travel, lectures, essays, and personal conversations are the pathways to them.  And the internet is a marvel of convenience for this.

 

This fascination with the world and the people in it is very much in the nature of Christian Humanism, which sees the things of the world in all their variety, but views little of His creation as inherently profane or evil, including human beings who can be a wonder and a source of grace.  It is we who make it so.

 

Evil is not a created thing, but the absence of good, a choice of free will.  The world is not inherently evil.  It inherently is, having no free will of its own  Plants and animals are not inherently evil, although the little girl has often put forward an exception to this for spinach and spiders. 

 

Creation is like a richly provisioned canvas on which we draw our lives, and it naturally shimmers in His light.   It is the darkness of our hardened hearts that casts images and shadows in the light. 

 

So the Christian humanist would agree with Socrates in saying, 'I am a citizen of the world,' but adding and most importantly, 'and nothing is alien to me except sin.'   Because it is in sin that we cut the connection between the Incarnate world and its Creator, for it is was in the almost shocking implications of the Incarnation that the world was refreshed and made new, as all things will be made new some day again.

 

Moving on to less complex but probably darker topics, Stocks were on a tear today,  shaking off the rather depressing economic reports of the morning.   One could speculate that this was a 'technical trade' ahead of a long weekend, with the wiseguys wishing to hand off more positions as we creep again back to new all time highs, buoyed with the central banks' hot money.  The futures are just about there.

 

But we could also attribute this to the announcement that Russia and the Ukraine have agreed to a cease fire (again).   That is one of the many geopolitical issues that have been weighing on the markets.  The other being Greece and the likely further deterioration of the Eurozone. 

 

As we saw, another central bank instituted QE and negative interest rates.  The world is slipping into a global depression.   The pig of the US economy has been lipsticked up and the Dollar is being presented as a safe haven.

 

Let's see how we go into the three day weekend, as on Monday the US will remember some of their Presidents.  I suppose a more popular day might be held in honor of all the ones which we might wish to forget, and they are many especially of late.

 

Have a pleasant evening.

 

 

 

 

"The pomp of courts, and pride of kings,

I prize above all earthly things;

I love my country, but my king,

Above all men his praise I'll sing.

The royal banners are displayed,

And may success the standard aid:

I fain would banish far from hence

The Rights of Man and Common Sense.

Destruction to that odious name,

The plague of princes, Thomas Paine,

Defeat and ruin seize the cause

Of France, her liberty, and laws."

Arthur O'Connor, The Society of United Irishmen, 1798

This poem above contains a hidden message, which was a hanging offense, for its day. Take the first line and follow with the first line of the second stanza, second line followed by the second line of second stanza and so forth.

Thus it becomes:

"The pomp of courts, and pride of kings,

I fain would banish far from hence

I prize above all earthly things;

The Rights of Man and Common Sense.

I love my country, but my king,

Destruction to that odious name,

Above all men his praise I'll sing.

The plague of princes, Thomas Paine,

The royal banners are displayed,

Defeat and ruin seize the cause

And may success the standard aid:

Of France, her liberty, and laws."

Reprise: Who Was 'the Frenchman Who Wept' For HIs Country?

Here is an iconic photograph that I have seen in any number of documentaries, generally identified as a Frenchman who weeps for his city as the Nazis march into Paris.

I have always been curious about this photo. I wondered where it came from and who this person was.  It has a certain tragic dignity about it.

Here is what I have been able to discover.

This photo first appeared in print in Life Magazine in their 3 March 1941 issue on page 29.   This is the photo which I show above and not the more tightly cropped versions that are often used in documentaries.

The caption on the photo identifies it as "a Frenchman sheds tears of patriotic grief as the flags of his country's last regiments are exiled to Africa."

So obviously this is not a photo taken in 1940 in Paris, as the French regimental flags had been moved into the south of France in order to preserve them from the surrender.  The flags themselves were not taken to Africa until 1941.

Here is a more commonly available photograph of the same scene.  It is a moment frozen in time.

Marseille sous l'occupation by Lucien Gaillard says that this is a photo of Monsieur Jerôme Barzetti, taken in Marseilles on February 20, 1941.  This is quite some time after the Nazi entrance into Paris in June, 1940.

I have not been able to find out anything else about him and do not have a hard copy of this book.  He does look old enough to have fought in The Great War.  Is he even French, or an Italian émigré who had fled the tyranny of Mussolini?  Perhaps he was part of the Barzetti industrial family from Italy, and related to Federico who later founded Barzetti Pastries?  I cannot say.

I wonder how he fared, and if he was able to see the restoration of France and the end of the war.

The still photo itself is actually taken from newsreel footage that was much later used in a US war film directed by Frank Capra as Chapter III - Divide and Conquer of his series, "Why We Fight." This film was produced in 1943 and begins after the conquest of Poland, and includes the fall of Benelux and France.

Here is the relevant clip from this US War Department film.  Monsieur Barzetti makes his appearance at 54:50 in the film.  It is a war film after all so you might excuse the somewhat florid rhetoric at the end.

Some have speculated that Capra may have staged portions of his series and I would certainly allow for that.  But since the photo of our 'Frenchman who cried' appeared in 1941 in Life magazine,  it is almost certain that had been taken from the newsreel footage of the day, which was sold to various outlets and used to create informative 'short subjects' to be shown at movie theatres.

Capra must have used that same footage in the creation of his own war film two years later.

So now we know something about 'The Frenchman Who Wept."

 

And well may we weep for the loss of our own freedom and tradition someday. 

But who will care?   Does anyone matter?  Why should anyone care for us, and why should we care about this weeping Frenchman, his risings and fallings, his perplexity and concerns, his fears and his sorrows?

Because when the ocean's dry up, and the earth grows cold and dies, as the stars flicker and grow dim in the sky, and creation turns back into dust, Monsieur Barzetti's soul will continue on, vibrantly alive, and his tears will have long been wiped away, by kindly hands.

"De loin en loin, elle vient jeter dans l'âme du profond artiste un peu de sa paix, de sa grandeur mystérieuse, puis elle retourne à sa solitude immense, au milieu des rues pleines de peuple.

Il n’y a qu’une tristesse, lui a-t-elle dit, la dernière fois, c’est de n’être pas de saints."

Léon Bloy, La Femme Pauvre

 

The only sadness, she said to him, in the end, is not to be a saint.

 

 

Greatness In a Dark Time

Some say that most of the time everyone wants to be great, because they have a natural desire for acceptance, recognition, and praise. Perhaps this is so.

And in a dark and pathological time this means that everyone wants to have power. Power becomes the standard of value, the coin of the realm in a deeply fallen world.  And in such a perverse world the only virtue is greed. 

So they who serve the world want to be tough guys, unafraid, quick and intemperate on the attack, harsh.  Yes that is the mark of power, of one of the formidable wielders of weapons. As if there can be any just weapon that we may take up on our own, that is not given to us by the Lord for His purpose.

If by some chance that person may also wish to serve God, then they may desire that they could take up the sword like an avenging angel, and smite those enemies of God, who are all too often those who merely annoy and offend them. This is because their idea of what it is to be a human being has been subtly poisoned by the times; in their brokenness they exalt themselves.

And all too often that feeling of offense simply becomes a blind hatred of 'the other.' The other may merely be the different, and interfering 'do-gooders' who try to help them, and finally all of the weak.  The will to power despises weakness.  Then they are no longer of God, but have given themselves over to the darkness.  And they fully become its creatures.  Those who take up the sword for their own purposes in God's name will die by it in a death without redemption.

This is a subtle but very effective snare, a sin wholly against the Spirit. We embrace the world and its values not in our love of it, but in our hatred of it as we see it. And so we grasp that same sword of power wielded by the forces of darkness in high places. And we use it as we will with intoxication, and are lost.

 

This is not service, or greatness, not as counted in God's economy. This is a willfulness and a destruction of the self that comes from sin, but that in its own insidious way may encompass many of the trappings of a religion: the ornaments of ritual, and symbols, and all the showiness, the noise and pomp of human office-- but always and remarkably devoid of God's love. 

 

We may love the services and outward manifestations as we prefer them, the old and familiar or the hip and modern or whatever our personal preference may be, but come to hate the very Church that gives them life and meaning.  We destroy our beloved because we will to possess, to compel, not to love.

 

Worldly power is a perversion of heavenly power in that it expresses itself in the ability not to create and fulfill life, but to diminish and destroy it. And it exults in what it thinks is its power over life, which is death. How much money, how much power is enough? The will to power is a pathological sickness, that becomes all consuming and insatiable.  And thereby in the excesses it anoints its angels of death.

Be on your guard always, and do not allow yourselves to be among those simple ones who will be taken in during the dark times, as the love of many grows cold. Stand firmly, but humbly, to the end. And you will have your greatness.

"Do you desire to be great? make yourselves little. There is a mysterious connexion between real advancement and self-abasement. If you minister to the humble and despised, if you feed the hungry, tend the sick, succour the distressed; if you bear with the froward, submit to insult, endure ingratitude, render good for evil, you are, as by a divine charm, getting power over the world and rising among the creatures. God has established this law. Thus He does His wonderful works.

His instruments are poor and despised; the world hardly knows their names, or not at all. They are busied about what the world thinks petty actions, and no one minds them. They are apparently set on no great works; nothing is seen to come of what they do: they seem to fail. Nay, even as regards religious objects which they themselves profess to desire, there is no natural and visible connexion between their doings and sufferings and these desirable ends; but there is an unseen connexion in the kingdom of God. They rise by falling...

Let this be the settled view of all who would promote Christ's cause upon earth. If we are true to ourselves, nothing can really thwart us. Our warfare is not with carnal weapons, but with heavenly. The world does not understand what our real power is, and where it lies. And until we put ourselves into its hands of our own act, it can do nothing against us. Till we leave off patience, meekness, purity, resignation, and peace, it can do nothing against that Truth which is our birthright, that Cause which is ours, as it has been the cause of all saints before us.

But let all who would labour for God in a dark time beware of any thing which ruffles, excites, and in any way withdraws them from the love of God and Christ, and simple obedience to Him...

Such is the rule of our warfare We advance by yielding; we rise by falling; we conquer by suffering; we persuade by silence; we become rich by bountifulness ; we inherit the earth through meekness; we gain comfort through mourning; we earn glory by penitence and prayer. Heaven and earth shall sooner fall than this rule be reversed; it is the law of Christ's kingdom, and nothing can reverse it but sin."

John Henry Newman

" ...if I can help somebody as I pass along, If I can cheer somebody with a word or song, if I can show somebody he's travelling wrong, then my living will not be in vain."

Martin Luther King

"Gentleness is everywhere in daily life, a sign that faith rules through ordinary things...

Even in a time of elephantine vanity and greed, one never has to look far to see the campfires of gentle people. Lacking any other purpose in life, it would be good enough to live for their sake."

Garrison Keillor

Weekend Reading

"God beholds you individually, whoever you are. He calls you by your name. He sees you and understands you, as He made you. He knows what is in you, all your own peculiar feelings and thoughts, your dispositions and likings, your strength, your weakness.

He views you in your day of rejoicing, and your day of sorrow. He sympathises in your hopes and your temptations. He interests Himself in all your anxieties and remembrances, all the rising and failings of your spirit. He has numbered the very hairs of your head and the height of your stature.

He compasses you round and bears you in His arms; He takes you up and sets you down. He notes your very countenance, whether smiling or in tears, whether healthful or sickly. He looks tenderly upon your hands and your feet; He hears your voice, the beating of your heart, and your very breathing.

You do not love yourself better than He loves you. You cannot shrink from pain more than He dislikes your bearing it; and if He puts it on you, it is as you would put it on yourself, if you would be wise, for a greater good afterwards....

God has created you to do Him some definite service; He has committed some work to you which He has not committed to another. You have your mission -- you may never know it in this life but you shall be told it in the next.

You are a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons. He has not created you for naught. You shall do good, you shall do His work. You shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in your own place while not intending it if you do but keep His commandments.

Therefore I will trust Him. Whatever I am, I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him; in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him. If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him. He does nothing in vain. He knows what He is about.

He may take away my friends. He may throw me among strangers. He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide my future from me -- still He knows what He is about."

John Henry Newman

Chris Hedges On the Current State Of Journalism and Post-Literate Society - The Age of Spectacle

"In our age, the idea of intellectual liberty is under attack from two directions. On the one side are its theoretical enemies, the apologists of totalitarianism, and on the other its immediate, practical enemies, monopoly and bureaucracy. Any writer or journalist who wants to retain his integrity finds himself thwarted by the general drift of society rather than by active persecution. The sort of things that are working against him are the concentration of the press in the hands of a few rich men, the grip of monopoly on radio and the films, the unwillingness of the public to spend money on books...

Wherever there is an enforced orthodoxy — or even two orthodoxies, as often happens — good writing stops. This was well illustrated by the Spanish civil war. To many English intellectuals the war was a deeply moving experience, but not an experience about which they could write sincerely. There were only two things that you were allowed to say, and both of them were palpable lies: as a result, the war produced acres of print but almost nothing worth reading...

The enemies of intellectual liberty always try to present their case as a plea for discipline versus individualism. The issue truth-versus-untruth is as far as possible kept in the background...

The organized lying practiced by totalitarian states is not, as is sometimes claimed, a temporary expedient of the same nature as military deception. It is something integral to totalitarianism, something that would still continue even if concentration camps and secret police forces had ceased to be necessary...

Totalitarianism, however, does not so much promise an age of faith as an age of schizophrenia. A society becomes totalitarian when its structure becomes flagrantly artificial: that is, when its ruling class has lost its function but succeeds in clinging to power by force or fraud. Such a society, no matter how long it persists, can never afford to become either tolerant or intellectually stable.

It can never permit either the truthful recording of facts or the emotional sincerity that literary creation demands. But to be corrupted by totalitarianism one does not have to live in a totalitarian country. The mere prevalence of certain ideas can spread a kind of poison that makes one subject after another impossible for literary purposes.

Totalitarianism demands, in fact, the continuous alteration of the past, and in the long run probably demands a disbelief in the very existence of objective truth. (cf. truthiness - Jesse)

Meanwhile, totalitarianism has not fully triumphed everywhere. Our own society is still, broadly speaking, liberal. To exercise your right of free speech you have to fight against economic pressure and against strong sections of public opinion, but not, as yet, against a secret police force. You can say or print almost anything so long as you are willing to do it in a hole-and-corner way.

But what is sinister, as I said at the beginning of this essay, is that the conscious enemies of liberty are those to whom liberty ought to mean most. The big public do not care about the matter one way or the other. They are not in favour of persecuting the heretic, and they will not exert themselves to defend him. They are at once too sane and too stupid to acquire the totalitarian outlook. The direct, conscious attack on intellectual decency comes from the intellectuals themselves."

George Orwell, The Prevention of Literature, 1946

I feel compelled to say an explanatory word or two about Chris Hedges at this point, about what it is that I 'like' about him, and to answer a couple of inquiries about why some others prefer to ignore him, besides the usual suspects as they say.

As I have said previously, politically I am almost a perfect centrist, in the classical sense of the term. I say this after having taken yet another 'objective test' to place myself on the political spectrum. I do not hold this out as anything of significance other than to say, this is pretty much where I come out, where I am in my thinking at this stage in my life. It is a hard place to be, because one sees the world in shades of grays, in all its complexity, without the comfort of easy forms in black and white. It requires quite a bit more thought and effort than most can afford.

Hedges is a socialist, self-admittedly. And I am not. I am a believer in markets, but in sound regulation of them by an objective, publicly controlled organization, much like a referee or umpire, who transparently enforces the rules which are clear and fair to all. Why? Because people always and everywhere will cheat, some much more readily than others. The meme of naturally efficient markets is a classic 'big lie.'

I believe that widely dispersed, practical rules of organization and decision making within a greater context of general principles are far superior in their effectiveness in the distribution of resources that any sort of central planning, of the right or of the left. As Acton once said, 'no class is fit to govern.' So I like decision making that is broadly based, and subject to compromise. I think the rewards and punishments of the market are an effective stimulus to productive behaviour, provided that the rules do not become slanted by the power of an inequality propagated by cheating.

But I also see that rules alone cannot embody wisdom. There is a need for the conscious hand of humanity to guide the legendary 'invisible hand of the market.'

So I like Hedges, because what he says brings me back to center, even though he is further left. That is how bad things have become in this age of austerity, the willfully immature, and the false bravado of the destructively greedy and ideologically irrational. The western nations have moved and are still moving to the Right, as they did in the 1930's. As corruption enervates the old order, as empires once again crumble, we are re-entering the Age of Spectacle, the time of fire.

And if you stay in place, at the center, you have the false feeling of 'moving left,' relatively speaking. It has become noticeable especially when one compares the Right to their forbears of even ten years ago.

Hedges irritates some of the sacred orthodoxies of the Right without a doubt and to say the least since they are the epitome of intolerance. But he also disturbs the Left, who can be as inflexible and censorious as the Right which they hold in utter disdain for those very qualities. And he tweaks their nose on it, which is doubly irritating for those who are currently not in power.

Hedges has an absolutely wonderful description of this phenomenon of the unseeable center in describing the debates he had with both the new religious right, and the irreligious neo-atheists. The relativity of their extreme views distorts all of their perceptions, so that to both groups, Hedges the religious moderate becomes anathema, for similar reasons of intolerance and vanity.

I think that western society has gone off the tracks, in a loosely cyclical manner, by adopting an unsustainable set of priorities. Rather than forming policies to support the general good of the people, they have instead adopted the objective of the 'greatest good' where that implies the maximization of profit, but for a select few. That was a fateful decision, and I mark it somewhat loosely from 1987 for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the bailout of Wall Street by Alan Greenspan. It had its cultural resonance in the theaters.

"The richest one percent of this country owns half our country's wealth, five trillion dollars. One third of that comes from hard work, two thirds comes from inheritance, interest on interest accumulating to widows and idiot sons and what I do, stock and real estate speculation. It's bullshit. You got ninety percent of the American public out there with little or no net worth.

I create nothing. I own. We make the rules, pal. The news, war, peace, famine, upheaval, the price per paper clip. We pick that rabbit out of the hat while everybody sits out there wondering how the hell we did it. Now you're not naive enough to think we're living in a democracy, are you buddy? It's the free market. And you're a part of it. You've got that killer instinct. Stick around pal, I've still got a lot to teach you."

Gordon Gekko, Wall Street, 1987

This situation, and history, has a lot to teach us indeed, and I think those lessons have only just begun in earnest.

This historically recurrent principle of the greatest greed rather than the greatest good is killing us. There should be no doubt that it will revert to the mean, a balanced society, once again, but that reversion may be painful, and bloody, if history is any guide. But this too shall pass.

I like to include historical quotes in these pieces, like the extended Orwell quote above, not only to illustrate the situation using powerfully resonant words from greater writers than myself, but also, in a Socratic way, to infuse the quiet understanding that every generation fights perhaps not the same, but similar, battles against ignorance, greed, intolerance, mean-spiritedness, carelessness, lawlessness, fear, hysteria, betrayal, hatred, and apathy.

And so there is hope, always.

We are not facing anything new, anything insurmountable,  but rather the same old enemy, the principalities and powers, the rulers of the darkness of this world, and the ancient spiritual wickedness in high places.  And that is the basic plot line of all human history.

And so we will write our own particular chapter in human history and the book of life, and thereby be remembered by our children and our grandchildren, and perhaps by those who interest themselves in all things human, for all time.





I have to note, most strongly, that the same principle of objectifying the other as a prelude to oppression and the language of violence is a tool of both the extreme right and the extreme left.  Their inflexibility and intolerance of differences in the individual virtually indistinguishable, and in every case is used to justify violence and murder.



I include this clip below in particular because he is describing 'the economic hitmen coming home to roost' which has been a forecast and an image I have used for quite a few years.  And it is happening now, predominantly in parts of Europe, but very much in the US and the UK.  The move on from victim to victim, their ravening hunger insatiable.



As they become more extreme, belief systems tend to resemble their putative opposites more closely, and the center becomes almost imperceptible, if noticed at all and not merely held in complete disdain.

Late Night Reading: Jacques Lusseyran - the 'Blind Frenchman' - Poetry In Buchenwald

"It is always the soul that dies first, even if it's departure goes unnoticed. And it always carries the body along with it...Man is nourished by the invisible, man is nourished by that which is beyond the personal. He dies from preferring the opposite."

Jacques Lusseyran, Poetry at Buchenwald


"We can answer these questions from experience as well as on principle. The experiences of camp life show that man does have a choice of action. There were enough examples, often of a heroic nature, which proved that apathy could be overcome, irritability suppressed. Man can preserve a vestige of spiritual freedom, of independence of mind, even in such terrible conditions of psychic and physical stress.

We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."

Victor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

Jacques Lusseyran was a high school student in Paris at the time the German army occupied France in 1940. Although he had been totally blind since age eight as the result of an accident, Lusseyran, who was then sixteen, decided to organize his friends and other students into an underground group to resist the occupation.

“News was needed, surely, but courage even more so, and clarity. We were resolved to hide nothing. For here was the monster to be fought: defeatism, and with it that other monster, apathy. Everything possible must be done to keep the French from growing accustomed to Nazism, or from seeing it just as an enemy, like enemies of other times, an enemy of the nation, an adversary who was victorious just for the moment. From our past we knew that Nazism (Fascism) threatened the whole of humanity, that it was an absolute evil, and we were going to publish its evilness abroad..."

Within a year the group numbered some 600 members who produced and distributed an illegal underground newspaper despite the risk of imprisonment, torture or death if they were caught. Lusseyran describes the mood of both surrender and joy he experienced in the resistance movement:

“I had not a single friend who had anything left to lose. They had given up literally everything except life. . . On my word of honor, the air was different where my friends were. There you could smell joy. Even when they were sad and talking about their own death, the smell of their talk was good and gave you a lift.”

Lusseyran was eventually betrayed by a pro-Nazi student who infiltrated the resistance group, resulting in the arrest of Lusseyran and other leaders of the group.

Following interrogation, Lusseyran was sent to the Buchenwald concentration camp.

In the camp, disease and malnutrition were rampant, and Lusseyran himself became sick and was very near death. But at that point he became aware that a will to live “had taken possession of me and filled me to overflowing ... Slowly I came back from the dead.”

He recalled that “on May 8, I left the hospital on my two feet. I was nothing but skin and bones, but I had recovered. The fact was I was so happy that now Buchenwald seemed to me a place which if not welcome was at least possible. I was free now to help the others; not always, not much, but in my own way I could help. I could try to show other people how to go about holding on to life. I could turn toward them the flow of light and joy which had grown so abundant in me.”

Lusseyran was asked by his fellow inmates to visit the various blocks of prisoners each day to share whatever factual information was available about the progress of the war and to dispel rumors.

The guards allowed prisoners to hear German news reports; Lusseyran was fluent in German and “read between the lines” of those reports to infer what was actually happening. He also received information from time to time via a clandestine radio which the prisoners had hidden.

Lusseyran writes: “The remarkable thing was that listening to the fears of others had ended by freeing me almost completely from anxiety. I had become cheerful, and was cheerful almost all the time, without willing it, without even thinking about it. That helped me, naturally, but it also helped the others. They had made such a habit of watching the coming of the little blind Frenchman with his happy face, his reassuring words, that on days when there was no news, they had him visit just the same.”

In April 1945, he was liberated by the Allies, surviving German massacres of the concentration camps in which some of his friends were killed. Many of his friends had died during the course of the war. After the war, Lusseyran taught French literature in the United States and wrote books, including And There Was Light and Against the Pollution of the I.

He died together with his third wife Marie in a car accident in France on July 27, 1971.

“We had to live in the present; each moment had to be absorbed for all that was in it. When a ray of sunshine comes, open out, absorb it to the depths of your being. Never think that an hour earlier you were cold and that an hour later you will be cold again. Just enjoy.

The amazing thing is that no anguish held out against this treatment for very long. Take away from suffering its double drumbeat of resonance, memory and fear. Suffering may persist, but already it is relieved by half.”

“Life had taken possession of me. I had never lived so fully before. Life had become a substance within me. It broke into my cage, pushed by a force a thousand times stronger than I. It was certainly not made of flesh and blood, not even of ideas. It came toward me like a shimmering wave, like the caress of light. I could see it beyond my eyes and my forehead and above my head. It touched me and filled me to overflowing. I let myself float upon it… I drew my strength from the spring. I kept on drinking and drinking still more. I was not going to leave that celestial stream… Here was the life which sustained the life in me..."

“The Lord took pity on the poor mortal who was so helpless before him… But there was one thing left which I could do: not refuse God’s help, the breath he was blowing upon me. That was the one battle I had to fight, hard and wonderful all at one: not to let my body be taken by the fear. For fear kills, and joy maintains life..."

“I was nothing but skin and bones, but I had recovered. The fact was I was so happy, that now Buchenwald seemed to me a place which if not welcome, was at least possible. If they didn’t give me any bread to eat, I would feed on hope..."

"I was carried by a hand. I was covered by a wing. One doesn’t call such living emotions by their names. I hardly needed to look out for myself…I was free now to help the others; not always, not much, but in my own way I could help. I could try to show other people how to go about holding on to life. I could turn toward them the flow of light and joy which had grown so abundant in me..."

"From that time on they stopped stealing my bread or my soup. It never happened again. Often my comrades would wake me up in the night and take me to comfort someone…I became “the blind Frenchman.” For many, I was just, “the man who didn’t die.” Hundreds of people confided in me. The men were determined to talk to me. They spoke to me in French, in Russian, in German, in Polish. I did the best I could to understand them all. That is how I lived, how I survived. The rest I cannot describe...”

"That is what you had to do to live in the camp: be engaged, not live for yourself alone. The self-centered life has no place in the world of the deported. You must go beyond it, lay hold on something outside yourself.

Never mind how: by prayer if you know how to pray; through another man's warmth which communicates with yours, or through yours which you pass on to him; or simply by no longer being greedy. Those happy old men were like the hoboes. They asked nothing more for themselves, and that put everything within their reach.

Be engaged, no matter how, but be engaged. It was certainly hard, and most men didn't achieve it.

Of myself I can't say why I was never entirely bereft of joy. But it was a fact and my solid support. Joy I found even in strange byways, in the midst of fear itself. And fear departed from me, as infection leaves an abscess and bursts.

By the end of a year in Buchenwald I was convinced that life was not at all as I had been taught to believe it, neither life nor society."