Living in the absurd world that they are forced to occupy, getting out of bed every morning and finding a reason to smile every day is asking too much of the citizens of this land
Benedict Cumberbatch’s turn as Julian Assange in the presumptuously
named “The Fifth Estate” was the stuff of dreams, those of conspiracy
theorists. Except, those dreams have come true.
The world is embroiled in a spying scandal reminiscent of George Orwell’s hyperbolic warnings, prophesies brought to fruition by messiahs of capitalism and their thoughtless disciples. These drones, the true societal parasites, have caused irreparable devastation, the consequences of which cannot fully be fathomed.
Yet, the message cascading from the pulpit is that the people should trust the leaders. There is the implied acceptance that, in the process of spying, gathering untold qualities and quantities of information and depriving every man and his dog of their irrefutable privacy, trust has been broken.
That has not deterred the leaders from audaciously asking to be trusted with this information, in the name of safety, trusted to break the people’s trust again and again. Their repugnant arrogance comes from the belief that people forget, that this indiscretion too will be forgiven tomorrow.
Much of life is built on the hope for tomorrow, yet every tomorrow only draws the inevitable end of mortality nearer. Sisyphus tried to defy this by putting Death in chains so that no more humans had to die.
His attempt to cheat death was punished by the gods compelling him to roll a bolder up a hill, only for it to roll back down when he reached the top. He was to repeat this action for all of eternity.
Bangladesh is a country that has been consigned to this ceaseless and pointless toil. Its journey, like that of man in a world devoid of hope and meaning, is a futile one. Albert Camus, who would have turned a hundred on the November 7, spent his life trying to reason with existence in the face of this. He observed in his seminal “The Myth of Sisyphus”: “The struggle itself…is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”
One must imagine Bangladesh happy. It has to be thought that, beyond the borders of the privileged Dhaka, people are happy.
This happiness is derived from everyone having picked sides, certain of each person’s preferred poison taking hold either tomorrow or in five years’ time, when he or she will undoubtedly profit.
It is why most of Dhaka, too, has decided. Doing so is inherent to every Bangladeshi. Neutrality, which does not make any allowance for selfishness, is for children and madmen, after all, so said the figurehead of the current fight for neutrality.
Camus, on the other hand, said, “The only really committed artist is he who, without refusing to take part in the combat, at least refuses to join the regular armies and remains neutral.”
Camus debated whether suicide was the only solution for Sisyphus. One has to wonder why Bangladeshis have not taken to it en masse. Living in the absurd world that they are forced to occupy, getting out of bed every morning and finding a reason to smile every day is asking too much of the citizens of this land.
They deliver that and more, because they are happy, because they have chosen. Bangladeshis do not need their leaders to ask them for their trust. It has already been given, knowing full well that trust and the common good will be sacrificed at the altar of nonsense, hatred and greed.
A committed Bangladeshi artist was also born on the November 7. The late great Mahbub ul Alam Chowdhury’s neutrality allowed him to fervently pen the poem “Kandte ashini, fashir dabi niye eshechhi” in 1952. Neither a high fever and a bout of chickenpox, nor the imminent threat on his life could keep him from his selfless act for the common good.
Years later, during one of the reruns of Bangladesh’s political crisis, he wrote an open letter, a passionate plea to the leaders to think about the country. Lest it is forgotten, Sisyphus’s original act was altruistic as well.
As the day on which those illustrious men who are no more were born draws near, the loss of their wisdom is felt more deeply than ever. Had they been heeded during their lifetimes, spying scandals and repeat crises may have been averted or mitigated.
Instead, an absurd path has been laid out by those who cannot be trusted, but nonetheless are. Faced with this inevitability of life, Camus asked whether the realisation of the absurd requires suicide. He answered, “No. it requires revolt.” On that, both men agreed.
The world is embroiled in a spying scandal reminiscent of George Orwell’s hyperbolic warnings, prophesies brought to fruition by messiahs of capitalism and their thoughtless disciples. These drones, the true societal parasites, have caused irreparable devastation, the consequences of which cannot fully be fathomed.
Yet, the message cascading from the pulpit is that the people should trust the leaders. There is the implied acceptance that, in the process of spying, gathering untold qualities and quantities of information and depriving every man and his dog of their irrefutable privacy, trust has been broken.
That has not deterred the leaders from audaciously asking to be trusted with this information, in the name of safety, trusted to break the people’s trust again and again. Their repugnant arrogance comes from the belief that people forget, that this indiscretion too will be forgiven tomorrow.
Much of life is built on the hope for tomorrow, yet every tomorrow only draws the inevitable end of mortality nearer. Sisyphus tried to defy this by putting Death in chains so that no more humans had to die.
His attempt to cheat death was punished by the gods compelling him to roll a bolder up a hill, only for it to roll back down when he reached the top. He was to repeat this action for all of eternity.
Bangladesh is a country that has been consigned to this ceaseless and pointless toil. Its journey, like that of man in a world devoid of hope and meaning, is a futile one. Albert Camus, who would have turned a hundred on the November 7, spent his life trying to reason with existence in the face of this. He observed in his seminal “The Myth of Sisyphus”: “The struggle itself…is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”
One must imagine Bangladesh happy. It has to be thought that, beyond the borders of the privileged Dhaka, people are happy.
This happiness is derived from everyone having picked sides, certain of each person’s preferred poison taking hold either tomorrow or in five years’ time, when he or she will undoubtedly profit.
It is why most of Dhaka, too, has decided. Doing so is inherent to every Bangladeshi. Neutrality, which does not make any allowance for selfishness, is for children and madmen, after all, so said the figurehead of the current fight for neutrality.
Camus, on the other hand, said, “The only really committed artist is he who, without refusing to take part in the combat, at least refuses to join the regular armies and remains neutral.”
Camus debated whether suicide was the only solution for Sisyphus. One has to wonder why Bangladeshis have not taken to it en masse. Living in the absurd world that they are forced to occupy, getting out of bed every morning and finding a reason to smile every day is asking too much of the citizens of this land.
They deliver that and more, because they are happy, because they have chosen. Bangladeshis do not need their leaders to ask them for their trust. It has already been given, knowing full well that trust and the common good will be sacrificed at the altar of nonsense, hatred and greed.
A committed Bangladeshi artist was also born on the November 7. The late great Mahbub ul Alam Chowdhury’s neutrality allowed him to fervently pen the poem “Kandte ashini, fashir dabi niye eshechhi” in 1952. Neither a high fever and a bout of chickenpox, nor the imminent threat on his life could keep him from his selfless act for the common good.
Years later, during one of the reruns of Bangladesh’s political crisis, he wrote an open letter, a passionate plea to the leaders to think about the country. Lest it is forgotten, Sisyphus’s original act was altruistic as well.
As the day on which those illustrious men who are no more were born draws near, the loss of their wisdom is felt more deeply than ever. Had they been heeded during their lifetimes, spying scandals and repeat crises may have been averted or mitigated.
Instead, an absurd path has been laid out by those who cannot be trusted, but nonetheless are. Faced with this inevitability of life, Camus asked whether the realisation of the absurd requires suicide. He answered, “No. it requires revolt.” On that, both men agreed.
