By Eduardo Galeano
I’d like to share with you some questions--some flies that keep buzzing in my
head.
Is justice right side up?
Has world justice been frozen in an
upside-down position?
The shoe-thrower of Iraq, the man who
hurled his shoes at Bush, was condemned to three years in prison. Doesn’t he
deserve, instead, a medal?
Who is the terrorist? The hurler of shoes or their recipient? Is not the real terrorist the serial killer who, lying,
fabricated the Iraq war, massacred a multitude, and legalized and ordered
torture?
Who are the guilty ones--the
people of Atenco, in Mexico, the indigenous Mapuches of Chile, the Kekchies of
Guatemala, the landless peasants of Brazil—all being accused of the crime of
terrorism for defending their right to their own land? If the earth is sacred, even if the law does
not say so, aren’t its defenders sacred too?
According to Foreign Policy Magazine,
Somalia is the most dangerous place in the world. But who are the pirates?
The starving people who attack ships or the speculators of Wall Street
who spent years attacking the world and who are now rewarded with many millions
of dollars for their pains?
Why does the world reward its ransackers?
Why is justice a one-eyed blind
woman? Wal-Mart, the most powerful
corporation on earth, bans trade unions. McDonald's, too. Why do these corporations violate, with
criminal impunity, international law?
Is it because in this contemporary world of ours, work is valued as
lower than trash and workers' rights are valued even less?
Who are the righteous and who are the
villains? If international justice
really exists, why are the powerful never judged? The masterminds of the worst butcheries are never sent to
prison. Is it because it is these
butchers themselves who hold the prison keys?
What makes the five nations with veto
power in the United Nations inviolable?
Is it of a divine origin, that veto power of theirs? Can you trust those who profit from war to
guard the peace? Is it fair that world
peace is in the hands of the very five nations who are also the world’s main
producers of weapons? Without implying
any disrespect to the drug runners, couldn’t we refer to this arrangement as
yet another example of organized crime?
Those who clamor, everywhere, for the
death penalty are strangely silent about the owners of the world. Even worse, these clamorers forever complain
about knife-wielding murderers, yet say nothing about missile-wielding
arch-murderers.
And one asks oneself: Given that these
self-righteous world owners are so enamored of killing, why pray don’t they try
to aim their murderous proclivities at social injustice? Is it a just a world when, every minute,
three million dollars are wasted on the military, while at the same time
fifteen children perish from hunger or curable disease? Against whom is the
so-called international community armed to the teeth? Against poverty or against the poor?
Why don’t the champions of capital
punishment direct their ire at the values of the consumer society, values which
pose a daily threat to public safety?
Or doesn’t, perhaps, the constant bombardment of advertising constitute
an invitation to crime? Doesn’t that
bombardment numb millions and millions of unemployed or poorly paid youth,
endlessly teaching them the lie that “to be = to have,” that life derives its
meaning from ownership of such things as cars or brand name shoes? Own, own, they keep saying, implying that he
who has nothing is, himself, nothing.
Why isn’t the death penalty applied to
death itself? The world is organized in
the service of death. Isn’t it true
that the military industrial complex manufactures death and devours the greater
part of our resources as well as a good part of our energies? Yet the owners of the world only condemn
violence when it is exercised by others.
To extraterrestrials, if they existed, such monopoly of violence would
appear inexplicable. It likewise appears
insupportable to earth dwellers who, against all the available evidence, hope
for survival: we humans are the only animals who specialize in mutual
extermination, and who have developed a technology of destruction that is
annihilating, coincidentally, our planet and all its inhabitants.
This technology sustains itself
on fear. It is the fear of enemies
that justifies the squandering of resources by the military and police. And speaking about implementing the death
penalty, why don’t we pass a death sentence on fear itself? Would it not behoove us to end this
universal dictatorship of the professional scaremongers? The sowers of panic condemn us to
loneliness, keeping solidarity outside our reach: falsely teaching us that we live in a dog-eat-dog world, that he
who can must crush his fellows, that danger is lurking behind every
neighbor. Watch out, they keep saying,
be careful, this neighbor will steal from you, that other one will rape you,
that baby carriage hides a Muslim bomb, and that woman who is watching
you--that innocent-looking neighbor of yours—will surely infect you with swine
flu.
In this upside-down world, they are
making us afraid of even the most elementary acts of justice and common sense.
When President Evo Morales started to re-build Bolivia, so that his country
with its indigenous majority will no longer feel shame facing a mirror, his
actions provoked panic. Morales’
challenge was indeed catastrophic from the traditional standpoint of the racist
order, whose beneficiaries felt that theirs was the only possible option for
Bolivia. It was Evo, they felt, who
ushered in chaos and violence, and this alleged crime justified efforts to blow
up national unity and break Bolivia into pieces. And when President Correa of Ecuador refused to pay the
illegitimate debts of his country, the news caused terror in the financial
world and Ecuador was threatened with dire punishment, for daring to set such a
bad example. If the military
dictatorships and roguish politicians have always been pampered by
international banks, have we not already conditioned ourselves to accept it as
our inevitable fate that the people must pay for the club that hits them and
for the greed the plunders them?
But, have common sense and justice always
been divorced from each other?
Were not common sense and justice meant
to walk hand in hand, intimately linked?
Aren’t common sense, and also justice, in
accord with the feminist slogan which states that if we, men, had to go through
pregnancy, abortion would have been free.
Why not legalize the right to have an abortion? Is it because abortion will then cease being
the sole privilege of the women who can afford it and of the physicians who can
charge for it?
The same thing is observed with another
scandalous case of denial of justice and common sense: why aren’t drugs
legal? Is this not, like abortion, a
public health issue? And the very same
country that counts in its population more drug addicts than any other country
in the world, what moral authority does it have to condemn its drug
suppliers? And why don’t the mass
media, in their dedication to the war against the scourge of drugs, ever
divulge that it is Afghanistan which single-handedly satisfies just about all
the heroin consumed in the world? Who
rules Afghanistan? Is it not militarily
occupied by a messianic country which conferred upon itself the mission of
saving us all?
Why aren’t drugs legalized once and for
all? Is it because they provide the
best pretext for military invasions, in addition to providing the juiciest
profits to the large banks who, in the darkness of night, serve as
money-laundering centers?
Nowadays the world is sad because fewer
vehicles are sold. One of the
consequences of the global crisis is a decline of the otherwise prosperous car
industry. Had we some shred of common
sense, a mere fragment of a sense of justice, would we not celebrate this good
news? Could anyone deny that a decline
in the number of automobiles is good for nature, seeing that she will end up
with a bit less poison in her veins?
Could anyone deny the value of this decline in car numbers to
pedestrians, seeing that fewer of them will die?
Here’s how Lewis Carroll’s queen
explained to Alice how justice is dispensed in a looking-glass world:
“There’s the King’s Messenger. He’s in prison now, being punished: and the
trial doesn’t begin until next Wednesday: and of course the crime comes last of
all.”
In El Salvador,
Archbishop Oscar Arnulfo Romero found that justice, like a snake, only bites
barefoot people. He died of gunshot
wounds, for proclaiming that in his country the dispossessed were condemned
from the very start, on the day of their birth.
Couldn’t the outcome
of the recent elections in El Salvador be viewed, in some ways, as a homage to
Archbishop Romero and to the thousands who, like him, died fighting for
right-side-up justice in this reign of injustice?
At times the
narratives of History end badly, but she, History itself, never ends. When she says goodbye, she only says: I’ll
be back.
Translation from Spanish: Dr. Moti
Nissani
Among his other
achievements, in 1971, Eduardo Galeano wrote The Open Veins of Latin America
and, in 1976, escaped death at the hands of CIA-financed Argentine death
squads.