Tag: society

  • Islam versus Democracy

    I’ve seen a number of people suggest that the current state of affairs in Egypt is proof that Islam doesn’t work. I disagree. In fact if anything, it proves that democracy doesn’t work. Then when there is an illegal coup that suits the ones with the physical might over the populace, it’s framed as the will of the people. If the will of the people could be legally expressed in that manner as an acceptable form of democracy, then the USA would not be stuck with the despicable government that it is today.

    The strange thing for me is that we keep looking to have Shari’ah implemented as if it is something external to our personal lives and incumbent upon a government to enforce as a legal system only. I beg to differ. I’m  not a scholar, nor an Egyptian, and definitely not a political analyst, but it seems logical to me that if we as Muslims conducted ourselves as Muslims in a majority Muslim country (not just Egypt), then whether or not government enforced it, the principled benefits of Shariah will automatically be achieved. However, when we insist on viewing Shariah as something external to our individual selves, and we take a lethargic approach to establishing Islamic principles and practices in our lives while believing that national identities come before our identities as Muslims, then expect things to go horribly pear-shaped very quickly.

    While the events in Egypt may have triggered these thoughts, it certainly does not apply only to them. Neither Shari’ah nor Islam failed, or is failing in Egypt, or in any other Muslim-majority country. Muslims are failing, and democracy was never a feasible option to begin with. If democracy was all it was cracked up to be, there would not be civil strife across the heartland of democracy in the Americas and Europe as we’re seeing it today. But we find it necessary to delude ourselves into believing that the will of the majority is automatically more informed than the will of the minority. If that were true, the majority of this world would be intellectuals and rational human beings, and retarded fads, ridiculous fashion trends, and horrific cultural practices would never stand a chance. But reality is clearly not on the side of democracy, or capitalism for that matter, both of which appear to be increasingly difficult to tell apart these days.

  • It’s not your fault…

    It’s not your fault if you grew up in a dysfunctional home, and now find yourself going through life trying to find a niche to call home, as long as that niche is not with family. It’s not your fault if you grew up in a functional home and can’t relate to the restlessness and anger of those that have grown impatient and intolerant with the prejudices of the world. It’s not your fault if you grew up in an average home that was neither dysfunctional nor functional but struck an awkward but not destructive balance between the two and now find it difficult to understand what the fuss is all about.

    It’s never your fault for how you were raised, but it is your fault if you choose to remain a product of your upbringing for the rest of your life. There is a point that we all reach in our lives when we become self-aware and uneasy about just being. That point is not reached when we turn 18, or when we turn 21, or any other age for that matter. That point is not defined by age, but instead it’s defined by our willingness to question what lies behind who we are and what we aspire to be.

    We’ve turned life into a series of superficial milestones that leave us oblivious to the major gaps in our lives that occur while we’re waiting for that next milestone before we find a reason to act. We wait to turn 18 before contemplating the future, and then we wait to turn 21 before we expect to be taken seriously, and then we wait to get a job before we feel worthy, or we wait to get a degree before we believe we have something of value to contribute to this world. We wait until we get our first job, and then we wait for each pay day, and then we wait for the annual bonus, and we wait and wait and wait. And all this time we’re blaming the system and blaming society and blaming the world for being a rotten place that celebrates scum and punishes victims. But we fail to realise that in all this waiting we’re allowing the system to define who we are and what we’re capable of achieving, and then we become disillusioned and angry when we don’t find our place in that system that is supposed to see how significant we are, or when people fail to celebrate our milestones.

    I’m not quite sure what the point of this post is. Perhaps it’s just a rant, or perhaps it’s just a brain dump. Perhaps it’s nothing. Perhaps it’s a small token of my struggle to rise above the system that has been restraining me all my life. Whatever it is, I suspect that there is some truth in between all the noise, and finding a moment in the chaos to stop and reflect on that hint of sanity in the noise is struggle that has plagued me for a long time now.

  • Trust your psychiatrist at your own peril

    This is one of those moments that makes me realise that simple logic will always triumph above the most baffling academic bullshit. The simple truth is that we don’t have mental illnesses, nor mental disorders. We have disorders of perspective, and disorders of self-worth. The above documentary gets a lot of simple things right. It makes it plain to see that the ethics we rely on from health professionals is more often than not compromised.

    When greed starts driving medical professionals to recruit innocent children from as little as two and a half years old into their sick cycle of kickbacks, you know that humanity has reached a new low. The one single point that I disagree with in this video is that they still conclude by referring to it as mental problems. It’s not a mental problem, it’s a problem of perspective, and a low self-esteem. When we undermine our own self-worth, we automatically adopt labels to deride or dis-empower ourselves so that we can pacify ourselves into believing that there is something external to ourselves that we can blame for our current state.

    You first become a victim of your own self-worth before you become a victim of circumstance. The lack of ethics exposed in the above documentary is in no way limited to just the field of psychiatry. Think before you pop that next pill.

  • Mother’s Day – An Awkward Moment

    I’ve been tempted to ask a few people the kind of question that is often dismissed as being ridiculous or unrealistic. But it’s really a simple question that goes something like this. Apart from Anniversaries, Birthdays, and days like Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, do you believe that you acknowledge or celebrate the contribution of your parents, or other loved ones, sufficiently in your life? If yes, you don’t need to commemorate Mother’s Day, or any of those other occasions. If no, then those occasions are desperately needed reminders for you, and you’re probably a contributor towards the reasons for having a need to set aside a specific day to acknowledge these people in our lives.

    I still maintain that living life by predetermined occasions intended to celebrate the contribution of individuals, or even just to acknowledge them is a waste of life and a lie to pacify our own inefficiencies. We can speak idealistically of acknowledging and affirming significant others, but when we wait for the occasion of a birthday or similar event to express such appreciation, then we easily fall prey to the act becoming a ritual rather than a sincere effort. Worse than this, we assume that the person will live long enough for us to acknowledge them when that occasion arrives, because acknowledging them as and when we feel inclined to do so naturally seems to be too burdensome.

    I’ve previously expressed my distaste for celebrating birthdays, and similarly, I also spurn the celebration of such token occasions because it encourages the mindset of ‘take for granted now because we can always make up for it later’. Mothers, fathers, and significant others, including our children, must not be conditioned to only expect to receive affirmation or gratitude from us on specific occasions. Nor should they be conditioned to believe that it’s only expected of them to reciprocate in the same way either. Talking about the celebration of life must not just be a romantic notion or an ideal, but instead it should be something that we practice with conviction.

    There’s enough tokenism in this world which feeds the cycle of insincerity that plagues almost every human interaction these days. Find a reason to celebrate the people in your life at times when they least expect it. Don’t wait for special occasions. Life is too fragile to take it for granted by assuming that tomorrow will be another day for us to do what we should have done today. But this is not about procrastination. It’s about gratitude. True gratitude is not guided by superficial occasions that celebrate milestones that are meaningless. We’ve placed so much emphasis on the occasions, that we’ve forgotten what the true celebration is about.

    Occasions like these have only ever served to appease the conscience of those that fail to celebrate the significant others in their lives the rest of the year. This becomes ever more evident when our parents grow old, which usually coincides with the prime of our lives, at which point the sick mindset sets in that suggests that they had their turn, so now it’s ours, and they should be able to understand that.

    The lethargy of society in giving back is a constant source of disillusionment. We’ve taken consumerism and made it an inherent part of our personal relationships as well. I pray that it changes. More than this, I pray that the majority of people that read this post will disagree with me about showing affection, appreciation, or affirmation to their loved ones on predetermined occasions only.

  • The Failure of Modern Medicine

    My biggest contention with modern medicine is that it provides, at best, a good intervention strategy but rarely encourages a wholesome approach to good health. I believe that the key deficiency in their approach is the fact that they start out with the assumption that there is no soul. This isn’t as ludicrous an observation as it may appear to be.

    For those of us that believe we have a soul which is interdependent with our physical form, we believe that the soul is the seat of intelligence, while the body is the seat of desire, or physical needs, so to speak. So what we think causes us to influence our physical form in ways that we’re still unravelling. The problem with modern medicine therefore is that they only study the effect of that thought independent of the thought itself, which leaves them believing that the symptom is in fact the root cause.

    Allow me to explain. When we consider chemical balances or imbalances, we automatically assume that the current state of the chemicals is what gives rise to certain behavioural tendencies. For example, when we have a high level of serotonin, we assume that the person is predisposed to being happy, while those with a low level of serotonin are assumed to be predisposed towards depression or stress. This is a very simplistic example that could probably be argued from various technical perspectives, but the point I’m trying to make is that we look at the current physical state and assume that to be a marker of the mental state, when in fact the reverse is true. The physical state is the symptom of the mental state, and not the other way around.

    I often feel anxious and frustrated when I think about how much more effective modern approaches to health would be if they just stopped being pigheaded about their insistence that nothing is true unless scientifically proven, instantly rendering the wisdom of the ages of holistic health remedies irrelevant simply because the remedies were not derived using present-day research methods.

    I have this recurring scenario that plays out in my mind each time I think of this where someone from a land that has never been contaminated with technology hears a human voice being projected out of a device that has no physical connection to anything or anyone and therefore assumes that some sort of magic is being used to do so, not realising that it’s simply a battery powered radio. Such is the nature of the most brilliant minds in the scientific research communities that because they have yet to find a way to harness, measure, or accurately observe what is commonly referred to as the paranormal, they view it with cynicism despite not having the answers.

    I guess the point I’m trying to make is that when we find someone in a state of emotional stress, or even physical duress, unless there is a physical defect present, it is most probable that the cause of it is an imbalance between what they desire and what they believe they are allowed to have. I’ve often seen that people with severe stress at the office usually end up in such a state because their jobs demand that they behave or produce work that conflicts with their value system. The same is true in life. When we try to control those things that fall outside our sphere of influence rather than accepting it for what it is, we end up feeling persecuted in ways that rarely occur to us in our conscious mind.

    The worst fallacy in modern medicine has to be its insistence that we are a victim of the chemical make-up of our physical forms, rather than appreciating that there is a seat of intelligence that exists alongside the physical form that they so painstakingly study. It’s like the ridiculous assumption that the Greeks made when they believed that our eyes emitted beams of light that allowed us to see, failing to understand that what our eyes observed was merely what existed external to ourselves. Similarly, the body is a vessel that harbours the soul, and therefore is used to express the desires and needs of that soul. When we fool ourselves into believing that that physical form is what dictates the health of our emotional state, that is when we become victims to our circumstances and effectively give up our ability to choose and think intelligently.

  • From Father To Son

    I watched a movie tonight that was probably the most accurate portrayal of the life of an average Muslim family in South Africa. The movie is called Material, and sets out to depict the struggles of many Muslim Indian families that are ruled by a firm-handed man. The authenticity of the characters, the script, and the setting made it feel as if it was a chapter taken out of my own life, although I can’t lay claim to having nearly as meaningful a relationship with my own father. Perhaps the familiarity with the themes is what hit home for me, but I think it’s more than that.

    I often feel a twinge of guilt when I speak plainly about my relationship with my father, but like it is said, speaking ill of the dead only hurts the living. My intentions are never to malign him, nor to earn sympathy from anyone that bothers to listen, but describing my relationship with my father as a relationship at all feels somewhat unnatural. There are a few traits that I have quite unwittingly inherited from my father which includes my sharp tongue, my cynical nature, and my uncompromising approach to matters of principle. Perhaps a part of my dark humour was also inherited, but very few see that side of me, so it probably doesn’t count.

    The truth is I’ve often wondered what it must be like to have a father to turn to when in need of advice, or perhaps just a sounding board steeped in wisdom. How must it feel to be able to stand up and be counted for your accomplishments knowing that your father is standing in the crowd feeling a sense of pride about what you made of the little that you had to start with. I was clothed, fed, and I had a roof over my head, and for that I will always be grateful. Unfortunately the duties of a father don’t stop at that point. The basics only provides the shell, not even the foundation.

    I’ve often assumed that only once I grow to understand what drove my father to be the bitter and angry man that he was, will I be able to subdue similar demons on my part. I wondered if he was perhaps misunderstood, or if he himself did not understand the source of his rage or his bitterness, but even if that were true, I see the damage in my siblings that leaves me loathe to make excuses for much of what he did. I’ve always maintained that the best gift a parent can give their child is the gift of a healthy self-esteem. Everything else in life becomes bearable, or even easy, if we have a sense of self that is founded in a childhood that was indeed a childhood.

    I’ve never known the true embrace of a father, not physically, nor emotionally. It’s an emotion that I’ll never experience the pleasure of, nor will I ever experience the pleasure or the consoling comfort of knowing what it’s like for him to be proud of me, or my achievements. My very strong streak of obstinate rebellion in the face of criticism took hold at an early age. I realised very early in life that nothing came easily. Every handout or hand-up was inevitably attached to an expectation of reciprocation, not always in equal measures. There was little encouragement to pursue anything meaningful beyond what I was innately capable of. I was barely in standard nine (11th grade) when I recall having a conversation with my mother about wanting to move out because I refused to put up with the toxic environment that we called home any longer.

    When the father in that movie showed his son the door, and arrogantly encouraged him to use it, I had very vivid flashbacks of similar moments in harsher tones, with significantly more colourful language, including the moment when I was shown the door when I was barely 6 years old as punishment for forgetting my jacket outside. Somehow moments like those, moments that shaped my character in ways that I would only realise much later in life, always seemed to happen on cold winter nights. The moment when my ex-wife flew into a rage and threatened mine and my daughter’s lives, or the moment when I stared at the beautiful moon through metal grids mounted at least twenty feet above me as I paced around the courtyard of the holding cells on the coldest night that year, each leaving scars and traces of wisdom that only the school of life can teach.

    My resilience, tenacity, compassion (albeit well hidden), and patience, I get from my mother. Reflections like these are what dissuades me from writing that book. My story is not unique, and in that fact alone there is much to be sad about, not celebrated. It sometimes feels as if writing about it romanticises it in a way that undermines the cruelty of it all. I guess, if nothing else, I’m grappling with whether or not I have a story to tell, or if the story only needs to be written so that I can finally rid myself of it.

  • A Self-Indulgent Reflection

    I have a  tendency to over commit. It’s a recent change in my personality, although many would probably accuse me of doing it for most of my life. I’m often seen as the guy that rarely says no, but my recent spate of over commitment is not a result of wishing to please, or trying to earn brownie points. Instead, it seems to be driven by a realisation that life is short.

    I know, that must sound weird, but when I mentioned this to someone recently, they looked visibly moved at the realisation of it, which almost visibly moved me. The realisation was a simple one although it suddenly feels as if the true gravity of it only dawned on me when I said it out loud. When I look back on my life it seems like a million things happened in the blink of an eye, yet when I look ahead, I often delude myself into believing that there’s much time remaining. But that’s the obvious part. Taking that moment to reflect on the million things that I’ve done relative to the million things that I would like to achieve, I suddenly realised that having the skills and resources to contribute towards courses that are infinitely larger than my own life almost demands that I make the contribution.

    It’s difficult to articulate, but the truth is, I’ve spent the better part of my life daydreaming about how I will be able to influence change on a global scale, but always feeling meek when I realise that I can barely influence it in my own life. That daydream is not so far fetched any longer. The occasional burst of interest by random strangers in thoughts that I share, and then seeing those thoughts shared with their circles, and even paraphrased in their own writing soon thereafter suddenly kindles that flame of hope that perhaps it is possible to influence that change that I wish to see in the world. For once, I’m not limited to the prejudices of the circles that I grew up in. I can, and do, finally engage in a circle of beings well beyond the bigotry of the society that spawned me.

    This must sound awfully clichéd but it’s true. I find when I engage with those around me and I share, without restraint or fear of ridicule, my true sentiments on what makes life worth living, or what makes death inviting, I get a very different response when compared with the times that I speak cautiously from fear of ridicule, or worse, dismissal. I’ve also realised that when I gave up the inclination to seek affirmation about what I think or what I do, I found a sense of empowerment within me that dwarfed any fears I previously had of interacting in a social setting. I went from being shy and introverted, to being bold, controversial, and able to address gatherings or strangers about topics I’m passionate about with barely any preparation or support at all.

    My old self always nags me to be cautious, and not to over indulge in the support or affirmation that I may receive at times, but a stronger more convincing voice in me denies the right of such doubt to be heard. I’ve stopped hiding behind diplomacy and political correctness, because the very hint of insincerity nauseates me. I’ve been on the receiving end of too many callous tongues that sought to subdue me rather than inspire me, almost always cloaked with the false pretences of wanting to protect or guide me. But the opinions of others holds no sway these days, because I’ve accepted (for some time now) that they just don’t get me, and never did. But I get them. I get them well, because while they were manipulating and soliciting popularity, I watched them closely, observing the doubts and the fears behind the bravado and the bullshit, and now when their opinions don’t matter any longer, I find it easy to use that knowledge of their weaknesses to cut through their defences and disarm them with the sharpest observations that leave them struggling to find their composure.

    It felt amazingly empowering at  first, but now it just feels normal. The realisation that most people are actors living out someone else’s fantasies and fads makes it easy to see people for what they are. Unfortunately more often than not, they’re not much to behold at all, except the few with substance that is.

  • Who do you love?

    I so often hear people giving others advice about how they should overcome negative sentiments about themselves, and I keep wondering if it’s realistic? The advice most often rendered is ‘love yourself’. Isn’t that the same like telling someone that is depressed to be happy?

    I think if we dislike ourselves, it’s not because we simply dislike ourselves, but in fact it’s because there is little that we’re doing or achieving that we find reason to be proud about. Either that, or we’re seeking affirmation from quarters that are uninterested or oblivious to how important they are in our lives. So when someone seems not to like themselves, when they’re self-harming, being reckless with their health or well-being, or just being morbid about life, I somehow doubt that telling them to love themselves is going to change all that.

    I really believe that happiness is not a choice, but is in fact a state that is achieved as a result of other conditions or achievements in our lives. Similarly I would argue that dislike for oneself is a result of inactivity or lack of achievement in things that would bring one joy. I guess, at the risk of over-simplifying it, I think it all comes down to what we use as points of reference in our lives. Those points of reference can sometimes be role models, or at other times it could simply be peer pressure. But identifying what about those role models or peers it is that influences us to want to aspire to fit their expectations is key to realising whether or not the reasons for such self-dislike is in fact warranted to begin with.

    But even that doesn’t quite answer the question, or resolve the issue. I think the low self esteem finds its roots first in trying to please others, which is easy enough to set in during childhood when we least realise the impact of such a disappointment. This later serves as a distraction that leads us to believe that just because we didn’t measure up to our chosen points of reference, we’re incapable of achieving anything meaningful in our lives. I can barely recall the number of times that I assumed the best of someone, immersed myself into the relationship relative to what prestige they enjoyed in my mind, only to meet a rude awakening when they behaved far short of what I believed their true nature to be.

    Sometimes I think we just expect too little from ourselves, and too much from others. Or perhaps that’s just a vicious cycle as well. Our expectations of others are equally as high as their expectations of us, but their expectations of themselves is just as low as our expectations of ourselves. So while we’re beating ourselves up and restraining ourselves from realising our true potential, we’re betraying the expectations of someone else, while they’re doing the same to us. Such is the cycle of stupidity when we measure our self-worth by the veneer of society.

    I guess the point is that if we are going to choose a role model, or an ideal to aspire to, we need to be sure that what we’re setting as an objective is in fact the reality of what we really want.