What is a man to do when his very sustenance becomes a poison?
The Maldives continues to implode spectacularly into a failed state overrun by Islamo-lunatics. As a writer, this should ideally translate into endless material for me to write about and lampoon. This was evident in the first few days after the February 7 coup d'etat, as I engaged in a rage-fest of furious writing. (Seeing people beaten up and bloodied by the coup militia was sufficient fuel, I guess)
But ever since then, I feel I no longer can.
Since then, I have had to turn down writing assignments because I could not inflict upon myself the torture of reading the depressing reports. I have avoided the news, and tried to turn a blind eye to the headlines that pop up on Twitter. The very few attempts I have made at writing about the coup have left me completely emotionally drained.
I imagine this is a mild version of how rape victims, denied justice, feel about having to write about their horrors. In a way, 7th Feb was a rape. A rape of democracy, where rogue forces easily overpowered and overwhelmed the weak populace with ruthless violence and brute force.
I feel like travelling into the past and tracking down the exact point in time when I settled on this idea that freedom and justice are somehow natural principles. I don't know why the burden of feelings of oppression weighs so heavily on my shoulders, when so many others seem to live just fine without giving it a second thought.
The same suffocating feelings lingered in the back of my mind during a recent visit to Malaysia, after I observed first hand the rampant racial discrimination that is Malaysian law - even though I wasn't even the slightest bit affected by it.
I've had to re-evaluate some of my long held principles. It has led me to believe that the system IS the enemy. The state is the enemy. The Maldives is an utterly failed state - not a single institution in the country functions as per their defined role. None. But the state was designed to serve the interest of a few, who profit from the conflict. It was designed to fail for the rest of us, the way the farm is designed to benefit the owner, whereas the cattle are destined for the abattoir. It's just how it works.
In all sincerity, I have lost any hope of reforming society. Reform is a long, painful and slow process that involves educating and rebuilding a new generation of Maldivians. And I feel this is a near-impossible goal, because the state - the system - is designed to destroy the next generation as well, and the one after that.
How is one to educate a generation that is brought up in a climate of such fear, instability, conflict and hatred? What hope is there to educate young minds against the odds, when serious money and power is being invested to subdue them into becoming the next generation of unthinking sheep? No. Our next generation will be as uninspired as this one, and the previous one.
No, I no longer seek to reform society. I wish to uproot it.
Rape victims don't wish to 'reform' their tormentors. No. They wish to sever their members and condemn them to hell.
The Maldives continues to implode spectacularly into a failed state overrun by Islamo-lunatics. As a writer, this should ideally translate into endless material for me to write about and lampoon. This was evident in the first few days after the February 7 coup d'etat, as I engaged in a rage-fest of furious writing. (Seeing people beaten up and bloodied by the coup militia was sufficient fuel, I guess)
But ever since then, I feel I no longer can.
Since then, I have had to turn down writing assignments because I could not inflict upon myself the torture of reading the depressing reports. I have avoided the news, and tried to turn a blind eye to the headlines that pop up on Twitter. The very few attempts I have made at writing about the coup have left me completely emotionally drained.
I imagine this is a mild version of how rape victims, denied justice, feel about having to write about their horrors. In a way, 7th Feb was a rape. A rape of democracy, where rogue forces easily overpowered and overwhelmed the weak populace with ruthless violence and brute force.
I feel like travelling into the past and tracking down the exact point in time when I settled on this idea that freedom and justice are somehow natural principles. I don't know why the burden of feelings of oppression weighs so heavily on my shoulders, when so many others seem to live just fine without giving it a second thought.
The same suffocating feelings lingered in the back of my mind during a recent visit to Malaysia, after I observed first hand the rampant racial discrimination that is Malaysian law - even though I wasn't even the slightest bit affected by it.
I've had to re-evaluate some of my long held principles. It has led me to believe that the system IS the enemy. The state is the enemy. The Maldives is an utterly failed state - not a single institution in the country functions as per their defined role. None. But the state was designed to serve the interest of a few, who profit from the conflict. It was designed to fail for the rest of us, the way the farm is designed to benefit the owner, whereas the cattle are destined for the abattoir. It's just how it works.
In all sincerity, I have lost any hope of reforming society. Reform is a long, painful and slow process that involves educating and rebuilding a new generation of Maldivians. And I feel this is a near-impossible goal, because the state - the system - is designed to destroy the next generation as well, and the one after that.
How is one to educate a generation that is brought up in a climate of such fear, instability, conflict and hatred? What hope is there to educate young minds against the odds, when serious money and power is being invested to subdue them into becoming the next generation of unthinking sheep? No. Our next generation will be as uninspired as this one, and the previous one.
No, I no longer seek to reform society. I wish to uproot it.
Rape victims don't wish to 'reform' their tormentors. No. They wish to sever their members and condemn them to hell.
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