From: Paul Bullock (paulbullock@EBMS-LTD.CO.UK)
Date: Fri Dec 09 2005 - 18:23:06 EST
Doesn't the NY Review of Books publish these sort of things? Seems quite amazing. ----- Original Message ----- From: <glevy@PRATT.EDU> To: <OPE-L@SUS.CSUCHICO.EDU> Sent: Thursday, December 08, 2005 3:38 PM Subject: [OPE-L] Nobel Lecture - Literature 2005 > Paul B: Here's the lecture you directed our attention to. I heard > about it (like Galloway's speech earlier this year) on the Net, not > in the mass media. Anything too critical of US foreign policy or G.W. > Bush does not seem to make much of a splash here in the mainstream > (bourgeois) media. All of the journalists here remember what happened > to Dan Rather. > > In solidarity, Jerry > > =================================================================== > > Nobel Lecture - Literature 2005 > > © THE NOBEL FOUNDATION 2005 > > Harold Pinter - Nobel Lecture > Art, Truth & Politics > > > In 1958 I wrote the following: > > 'There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what > is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing > is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true > and false.' > > I believe that these assertions still make sense and do still > apply to the exploration of reality through art. So as a > writer I stand by them but as a citizen I cannot. As a citizen > I must ask: What is true? What is false? > > Truth in drama is forever elusive. You never quite find it but > the search for it is compulsive. The search is clearly what > drives the endeavour. The search is your task. More often than > not you stumble upon the truth in the dark, colliding with it > or just glimpsing an image or a shape which seems to > correspond to the truth, often without realising that you have > done so. But the real truth is that there never is any such > thing as one truth to be found in dramatic art. There are > many. These truths challenge each other, recoil from each > other, reflect each other, ignore each other, tease each > other, are blind to each other. Sometimes you feel you have > the truth of a moment in your hand, then it slips through your > fingers and is lost. > > I have often been asked how my plays come about. I cannot say. > Nor can I ever sum up my plays, except to say that this is > what happened. That is what they said. That is what they did. > > Most of the plays are engendered by a line, a word or an > image. The given word is often shortly followed by the image. > I shall give two examples of two lines which came right out of > the blue into my head, followed by an image, followed by me. > > The plays are The Homecoming and Old Times. The first line of > The Homecoming is 'What have you done with the scissors?' The > first line of Old Times is 'Dark.' > > In each case I had no further information. > > In the first case someone was obviously looking for a pair of > scissors and was demanding their whereabouts of someone else > he suspected had probably stolen them. But I somehow knew that > the person addressed didn't give a damn about the scissors or > about the questioner either, for that matter. > > 'Dark' I took to be a description of someone's hair, the hair > of a woman, and was the answer to a question. In each case I > found myself compelled to pursue the matter. This happened > visually, a very slow fade, through shadow into light. > > I always start a play by calling the characters A, B and C. > > In the play that became The Homecoming I saw a man enter a > stark room and ask his question of a younger man sitting on an > ugly sofa reading a racing paper. I somehow suspected that A > was a father and that B was his son, but I had no proof. This > was however confirmed a short time later when B (later to > become Lenny) says to A (later to become Max), 'Dad, do you > mind if I change the subject? I want to ask you something. The > dinner we had before, what was the name of it? What do you > call it? Why don't you buy a dog? You're a dog cook. Honest. > You think you're cooking for a lot of dogs.' So since B calls > A 'Dad' it seemed to me reasonable to assume that they were > father and son. A was also clearly the cook and his cooking > did not seem to be held in high regard. Did this mean that > there was no mother? I didn't know. But, as I told myself at > the time, our beginnings never know our ends. > > 'Dark.' A large window. Evening sky. A man, A (later to become > Deeley), and a woman, B (later to become Kate), sitting with > drinks. 'Fat or thin?' the man asks. Who are they talking > about? But I then see, standing at the window, a woman, C > (later to become Anna), in another condition of light, her > back to them, her hair dark. > > It's a strange moment, the moment of creating characters who > up to that moment have had no existence. What follows is > fitful, uncertain, even hallucinatory, although sometimes it > can be an unstoppable avalanche. The author's position is an > odd one. In a sense he is not welcomed by the characters. The > characters resist him, they are not easy to live with, they > are impossible to define. You certainly can't dictate to them. > To a certain extent you play a never-ending game with them, > cat and mouse, blind man's buff, hide and seek. But finally > you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your > hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their > own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, > manipulate or distort. > > So language in art remains a highly ambiguous transaction, a > quicksand, a trampoline, a frozen pool which might give way > under you, the author, at any time. > > But as I have said, the search for the truth can never stop. > It cannot be adjourned, it cannot be postponed. It has to be > faced, right there, on the spot. > > Political theatre presents an entirely different set of > problems. Sermonising has to be avoided at all cost. > Objectivity is essential. The characters must be allowed to > breathe their own air. The author cannot confine and constrict > them to satisfy his own taste or disposition or prejudice. He > must be prepared to approach them from a variety of angles, > from a full and uninhibited range of perspectives, take them > by surprise, perhaps, occasionally, but nevertheless give them > the freedom to go which way they will. This does not always > work. And political satire, of course, adheres to none of > these precepts, in fact does precisely the opposite, which is > its proper function. > > In my play The Birthday Party I think I allow a whole range of > options to operate in a dense forest of possibility before > finally focussing on an act of subjugation. > > Mountain Language pretends to no such range of operation. It > remains brutal, short and ugly. But the soldiers in the play > do get some fun out of it. One sometimes forgets that > torturers become easily bored. They need a bit of a laugh to > keep their spirits up. This has been confirmed of course by > the events at Abu Ghraib in Baghdad. Mountain Language lasts > only 20 minutes, but it could go on for hour after hour, on > and on and on, the same pattern repeated over and over again, > on and on, hour after hour. > > Ashes to Ashes, on the other hand, seems to me to be taking > place under water. A drowning woman, her hand reaching up > through the waves, dropping down out of sight, reaching for > others, but finding nobody there, either above or under the > water, finding only shadows, reflections, floating; the woman > a lost figure in a drowning landscape, a woman unable to > escape the doom that seemed to belong only to others. > > But as they died, she must die too. > > Political language, as used by politicians, does not venture > into any of this territory since the majority of politicians, > on the evidence available to us, are interested not in truth > but in power and in the maintenance of that power. To maintain > that power it is essential that people remain in ignorance, > that they live in ignorance of the truth, even the truth of > their own lives. What surrounds us therefore is a vast > tapestry of lies, upon which we feed. > > As every single person here knows, the justification for the > invasion of Iraq was that Saddam Hussein possessed a highly > dangerous body of weapons of mass destruction, some of which > could be fired in 45 minutes, bringing about appalling > devastation. We were assured that was true. It was not true. > We were told that Iraq had a relationship with Al Quaeda and > shared responsibility for the atrocity in New York of > September 11th 2001. We were assured that this was true. It > was not true. We were told that Iraq threatened the security > of the world. We were assured it was true. It was not true. > > The truth is something entirely different. The truth is to do > with how the United States understands its role in the world > and how it chooses to embody it. > > But before I come back to the present I would like to look at > the recent past, by which I mean United States foreign policy > since the end of the Second World War. I believe it is > obligatory upon us to subject this period to at least some > kind of even limited scrutiny, which is all that time will > allow here. > > Everyone knows what happened in the Soviet Union and > throughout Eastern Europe during the post-war period: the > systematic brutality, the widespread atrocities, the ruthless > suppression of independent thought. All this has been fully > documented and verified. > > But my contention here is that the US crimes in the same > period have only been superficially recorded, let alone > documented, let alone acknowledged, let alone recognised as > crimes at all. I believe this must be addressed and that the > truth has considerable bearing on where the world stands now. > Although constrained, to a certain extent, by the existence of > the Soviet Union, the United States' actions throughout the > world made it clear that it had concluded it had carte blanche > to do what it liked. > > Direct invasion of a sovereign state has never in fact been > America's favoured method. In the main, it has preferred what > it has described as 'low intensity conflict'. Low intensity > conflict means that thousands of people die but slower than if > you dropped a bomb on them in one fell swoop. It means that > you infect the heart of the country, that you establish a > malignant growth and watch the gangrene bloom. When the > populace has been subdued - or beaten to death - the same > thing - and your own friends, the military and the great > corporations, sit comfortably in power, you go before the > camera and say that democracy has prevailed. This was a > commonplace in US foreign policy in the years to which I > refer. > > The tragedy of Nicaragua was a highly significant case. I > choose to offer it here as a potent example of America's view > of its role in the world, both then and now. > > I was present at a meeting at the US embassy in London in the > late 1980s. > > The United States Congress was about to decide whether to give > more money to the Contras in their campaign against the state > of Nicaragua. I was a member of a delegation speaking on > behalf of Nicaragua but the most important member of this > delegation was a Father John Metcalf. The leader of the US > body was Raymond Seitz (then number two to the ambassador, > later ambassador himself). Father Metcalf said: 'Sir, I am in > charge of a parish in the north of Nicaragua. My parishioners > built a school, a health centre, a cultural centre. We have > lived in peace. A few months ago a Contra force attacked the > parish. They destroyed everything: the school, the health > centre, the cultural centre. They raped nurses and teachers, > slaughtered doctors, in the most brutal manner. They behaved > like savages. Please demand that the US government withdraw > its support from this shocking terrorist activity.' > > Raymond Seitz had a very good reputation as a rational, > responsible and highly sophisticated man. He was greatly > respected in diplomatic circles. He listened, paused and then > spoke with some gravity. 'Father,' he said, 'let me tell you > something. In war, innocent people always suffer.' There was a > frozen silence. We stared at him. He did not flinch. > > Innocent people, indeed, always suffer. > > Finally somebody said: 'But in this case "innocent people" > were the victims of a gruesome atrocity subsidised by your > government, one among many. If Congress allows the Contras > more money further atrocities of this kind will take place. Is > this not the case? Is your government not therefore guilty of > supporting acts of murder and destruction upon the citizens of > a sovereign state?' > > Seitz was imperturbable. 'I don't agree that the facts as > presented support your assertions,' he said. > > As we were leaving the Embassy a US aide told me that he > enjoyed my plays. I did not reply. > > I should remind you that at the time President Reagan made the > following statement: 'The Contras are the moral equivalent of > our Founding Fathers.' > > The United States supported the brutal Somoza dictatorship in > Nicaragua for over 40 years. The Nicaraguan people, led by the > Sandinistas, overthrew this regime in 1979, a breathtaking > popular revolution. > > The Sandinistas weren't perfect. They possessed their fair > share of arrogance and their political philosophy contained a > number of contradictory elements. But they were intelligent, > rational and civilised. They set out to establish a stable, > decent, pluralistic society. The death penalty was abolished. > Hundreds of thousands of poverty-stricken peasants were > brought back from the dead. Over 100,000 families were given > title to land. Two thousand schools were built. A quite > remarkable literacy campaign reduced illiteracy in the country > to less than one seventh. Free education was established and a > free health service. Infant mortality was reduced by a third. > Polio was eradicated. > > The United States denounced these achievements as > Marxist/Leninist subversion. In the view of the US government, > a dangerous example was being set. If Nicaragua was allowed to > establish basic norms of social and economic justice, if it > was allowed to raise the standards of health care and > education and achieve social unity and national self respect, > neighbouring countries would ask the same questions and do the > same things. There was of course at the time fierce resistance > to the status quo in El Salvador. > > I spoke earlier about 'a tapestry of lies' which surrounds us. > President Reagan commonly described Nicaragua as a > 'totalitarian dungeon'. This was taken generally by the media, > and certainly by the British government, as accurate and fair > comment. But there was in fact no record of death squads under > the Sandinista government. There was no record of torture. > There was no record of systematic or official military > brutality. No priests were ever murdered in Nicaragua. There > were in fact three priests in the government, two Jesuits and > a Maryknoll missionary. The totalitarian dungeons were > actually next door, in El Salvador and Guatemala. The United > States had brought down the democratically elected government > of Guatemala in 1954 and it is estimated that over 200,000 > people had been victims of successive military dictatorships. > > Six of the most distinguished Jesuits in the world were > viciously murdered at the Central American University in San > Salvador in 1989 by a battalion of the Alcatl regiment trained > at Fort Benning, Georgia, USA. That extremely brave man > Archbishop Romero was assassinated while saying mass. It is > estimated that 75,000 people died. Why were they killed? They > were killed because they believed a better life was possible > and should be achieved. That belief immediately qualified them > as communists. They died because they dared to question the > status quo, the endless plateau of poverty, disease, > degradation and oppression, which had been their birthright. > > The United States finally brought down the Sandinista > government. It took some years and considerable resistance but > relentless economic persecution and 30,000 dead finally > undermined the spirit of the Nicaraguan people. They were > exhausted and poverty stricken once again. The casinos moved > back into the country. Free health and free education were > over. Big business returned with a vengeance. 'Democracy' had > prevailed. > > But this 'policy' was by no means restricted to Central > America. It was conducted throughout the world. It was > never-ending. And it is as if it never happened. > > The United States supported and in many cases engendered every > right wing military dictatorship in the world after the end of > the Second World War. I refer to Indonesia, Greece, Uruguay, > Brazil, Paraguay, Haiti, Turkey, the Philippines, Guatemala, > El Salvador, and, of course, Chile. The horror the United > States inflicted upon Chile in 1973 can never be purged and > can never be forgiven. > > Hundreds of thousands of deaths took place throughout these > countries. Did they take place? And are they in all cases > attributable to US foreign policy? The answer is yes they did > take place and they are attributable to American foreign > policy. But you wouldn't know it. > > It never happened. Nothing ever happened. Even while it was > happening it wasn't happening. It didn't matter. It was of no > interest. The crimes of the United States have been > systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless, but very few > people have actually talked about them. You have to hand it to > America. It has exercised a quite clinical manipulation of > power worldwide while masquerading as a force for universal > good. It's a brilliant, even witty, highly successful act of > hypnosis. > > I put to you that the United States is without doubt the > greatest show on the road. Brutal, indifferent, scornful and > ruthless it may be but it is also very clever. As a salesman > it is out on its own and its most saleable commodity is self > love. It's a winner. Listen to all American presidents on > television say the words, 'the American people', as in the > sentence, 'I say to the American people it is time to pray and > to defend the rights of the American people and I ask the > American people to trust their president in the action he is > about to take on behalf of the American people.' > > It's a scintillating stratagem. Language is actually employed > to keep thought at bay. The words 'the American people' > provide a truly voluptuous cushion of reassurance. You don't > need to think. Just lie back on the cushion. The cushion may > be suffocating your intelligence and your critical faculties > but it's very comfortable. This does not apply of course to > the 40 million people living below the poverty line and the 2 > million men and women imprisoned in the vast gulag of prisons, > which extends across the US. > > The United States no longer bothers about low intensity > conflict. It no longer sees any point in being reticent or > even devious. It puts its cards on the table without fear or > favour. It quite simply doesn't give a damn about the United > Nations, international law or critical dissent, which it > regards as impotent and irrelevant. It also has its own > bleating little lamb tagging behind it on a lead, the pathetic > and supine Great Britain. > > What has happened to our moral sensibility? Did we ever have > any? What do these words mean? Do they refer to a term very > rarely employed these days - conscience? A conscience to do > not only with our own acts but to do with our shared > responsibility in the acts of others? Is all this dead? Look > at Guantanamo Bay. Hundreds of people detained without charge > for over three years, with no legal representation or due > process, technically detained forever. This totally > illegitimate structure is maintained in defiance of the Geneva > Convention. It is not only tolerated but hardly thought about > by what's called the 'international community'. This criminal > outrage is being committed by a country, which declares itself > to be 'the leader of the free world'. Do we think about the > inhabitants of Guantanamo Bay? What does the media say about > them? They pop up occasionally - a small item on page six. > They have been consigned to a no man's land from which indeed > they may never return. At present many are on hunger strike, > being force-fed, including British residents. No niceties in > these force-feeding procedures. No sedative or anaesthetic. > Just a tube stuck up your nose and into your throat. You vomit > blood. This is torture. What has the British Foreign Secretary > said about this? Nothing. What has the British Prime Minister > said about this? Nothing. Why not? Because the United States > has said: to criticise our conduct in Guantanamo Bay > constitutes an unfriendly act. You're either with us or > against us. So Blair shuts up. > > The invasion of Iraq was a bandit act, an act of blatant state > terrorism, demonstrating absolute contempt for the concept of > international law. The invasion was an arbitrary military > action inspired by a series of lies upon lies and gross > manipulation of the media and therefore of the public; an act > intended to consolidate American military and economic control > of the Middle East masquerading - as a last resort - all other > justifications having failed to justify themselves - as > liberation. A formidable assertion of military force > responsible for the death and mutilation of thousands and > thousands of innocent people. > > We have brought torture, cluster bombs, depleted uranium, > innumerable acts of random murder, misery, degradation and > death to the Iraqi people and call it 'bringing freedom and > democracy to the Middle East'. > > How many people do you have to kill before you qualify to be > described as a mass murderer and a war criminal? One hundred > thousand? More than enough, I would have thought. Therefore it > is just that Bush and Blair be arraigned before the > International Criminal Court of Justice. But Bush has been > clever. He has not ratified the International Criminal Court > of Justice. Therefore if any American soldier or for that > matter politician finds himself in the dock Bush has warned > that he will send in the marines. But Tony Blair has ratified > the Court and is therefore available for prosecution. We can > let the Court have his address if they're interested. It is > Number 10, Downing Street, London. > > Death in this context is irrelevant. Both Bush and Blair place > death well away on the back burner. At least 100,000 Iraqis > were killed by American bombs and missiles before the Iraq > insurgency began. These people are of no moment. Their deaths > don't exist. They are blank. They are not even recorded as > being dead. 'We don't do body counts,' said the American > general Tommy Franks. > > Early in the invasion there was a photograph published on the > front page of British newspapers of Tony Blair kissing the > cheek of a little Iraqi boy. 'A grateful child,' said the > caption. A few days later there was a story and photograph, on > an inside page, of another four-year-old boy with no arms. His > family had been blown up by a missile. He was the only > survivor. 'When do I get my arms back?' he asked. The story > was dropped. Well, Tony Blair wasn't holding him in his arms, > nor the body of any other mutilated child, nor the body of any > bloody corpse. Blood is dirty. It dirties your shirt and tie > when you're making a sincere speech on television. > > The 2,000 American dead are an embarrassment. They are > transported to their graves in the dark. Funerals are > unobtrusive, out of harm's way. The mutilated rot in their > beds, some for the rest of their lives. So the dead and the > mutilated both rot, in different kinds of graves. > > Here is an extract from a poem by Pablo Neruda, 'I'm > Explaining a Few Things': > > And one morning all that was burning, > one morning the bonfires > leapt out of the earth > devouring human beings > and from then on fire, > gunpowder from then on, > and from then on blood. > Bandits with planes and Moors, > bandits with finger-rings and duchesses, > bandits with black friars spattering blessings > came through the sky to kill children > and the blood of children ran through the streets > without fuss, like children's blood. > > Jackals that the jackals would despise > stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out, > vipers that the vipers would abominate. > > Face to face with you I have seen the blood > of Spain tower like a tide > to drown you in one wave > of pride and knives. > > Treacherous > generals: > see my dead house, > look at broken Spain: > from every house burning metal flows > instead of flowers > from every socket of Spain > Spain emerges > and from every dead child a rifle with eyes > and from every crime bullets are born > which will one day find > the bull's eye of your hearts. > > And you will ask: why doesn't his poetry > speak of dreams and leaves > and the great volcanoes of his native land. > > Come and see the blood in the streets. > Come and see > the blood in the streets. > Come and see the blood > in the streets!* > > Let me make it quite clear that in quoting from Neruda's poem > I am in no way comparing Republican Spain to Saddam Hussein's > Iraq. I quote Neruda because nowhere in contemporary poetry > have I read such a powerful visceral description of the > bombing of civilians. > > I have said earlier that the United States is now totally > frank about putting its cards on the table. That is the case. > Its official declared policy is now defined as 'full spectrum > dominance'. That is not my term, it is theirs. 'Full spectrum > dominance' means control of land, sea, air and space and all > attendant resources. > > The United States now occupies 702 military installations > throughout the world in 132 countries, with the honourable > exception of Sweden, of course. We don't quite know how they > got there but they are there all right. > > The United States possesses 8,000 active and operational > nuclear warheads. Two thousand are on hair trigger alert, > ready to be launched with 15 minutes warning. It is developing > new systems of nuclear force, known as bunker busters. The > British, ever cooperative, are intending to replace their own > nuclear missile, Trident. Who, I wonder, are they aiming at? > Osama bin Laden? You? Me? Joe Dokes? China? Paris? Who knows? > What we do know is that this infantile insanity - the > possession and threatened use of nuclear weapons - is at the > heart of present American political philosophy. We must remind > ourselves that the United States is on a permanent military > footing and shows no sign of relaxing it. > > Many thousands, if not millions, of people in the United > States itself are demonstrably sickened, shamed and angered by > their government's actions, but as things stand they are not a > coherent political force - yet. But the anxiety, uncertainty > and fear which we can see growing daily in the United States > is unlikely to diminish. > > I know that President Bush has many extremely competent speech > writers but I would like to volunteer for the job myself. I > propose the following short address which he can make on > television to the nation. I see him grave, hair carefully > combed, serious, winning, sincere, often beguiling, sometimes > employing a wry smile, curiously attractive, a man's man. > > 'God is good. God is great. God is good. My God is good. Bin > Laden's God is bad. His is a bad God. Saddam's God was bad, > except he didn't have one. He was a barbarian. We are not > barbarians. We don't chop people's heads off. We believe in > freedom. So does God. I am not a barbarian. I am the > democratically elected leader of a freedom-loving democracy. > We are a compassionate society. We give compassionate > electrocution and compassionate lethal injection. We are a > great nation. I am not a dictator. He is. I am not a > barbarian. He is. And he is. They all are. I possess moral > authority. You see this fist? This is my moral authority. And > don't you forget it.' > > A writer's life is a highly vulnerable, almost naked activity. > We don't have to weep about that. The writer makes his choice > and is stuck with it. But it is true to say that you are open > to all the winds, some of them icy indeed. You are out on your > own, out on a limb. You find no shelter, no protection - > unless you lie - in which case of course you have constructed > your own protection and, it could be argued, become a > politician. > > I have referred to death quite a few times this evening. I > shall now quote a poem of my own called 'Death'. > > Where was the dead body found? > Who found the dead body? > Was the dead body dead when found? > How was the dead body found? > > Who was the dead body? > > Who was the father or daughter or brother > Or uncle or sister or mother or son > Of the dead and abandoned body? > > Was the body dead when abandoned? > Was the body abandoned? > By whom had it been abandoned? > > Was the dead body naked or dressed for a journey? > > What made you declare the dead body dead? > Did you declare the dead body dead? > How well did you know the dead body? > How did you know the dead body was dead? > > Did you wash the dead body > Did you close both its eyes > Did you bury the body > Did you leave it abandoned > Did you kiss the dead body > > When we look into a mirror we think the image that confronts > us is accurate. But move a millimetre and the image changes. > We are actually looking at a never-ending range of > reflections. But sometimes a writer has to smash the mirror - > for it is on the other side of that mirror that the truth > stares at us. > > I believe that despite the enormous odds which exist, > unflinching, unswerving, fierce intellectual determination, as > citizens, to define the real truth of our lives and our > societies is a crucial obligation which devolves upon us all. > It is in fact mandatory. > > If such a determination is not embodied in our political > vision we have no hope of restoring what is so nearly lost to > us - the dignity of man. > > > -------------------------------------------------------------------- > > * Extract from "I'm Explaining a Few Things" translated by > Nathaniel Tarn, from Pablo Neruda: Selected Poems, published > by Jonathan Cape, London 1970. Used by permission of The > Random House Group Limited. > >
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