Iswaswillbe, a painting by Geoff Laurence

One of the projects I worked on in Santa Fe with Geoff Laurence is this painting called Iswaswillbe. Geoff had his own struggle with the legacy of world war two, as his parents survived The Holocaust, even though they went though time in the death camps. The painting depicts the dance between the oppressor and the oppressed. This painting is in the process of being purchased so that it will hang in one of the holocaust museums.

In some ways it's appropriate, I think, that I played some part in this painting, as my own political views have been moulded my my namesake's sacrifice. How could I simply live with his name, without at least justifying something of that sacrifice, and keeping the battle against tyranny and fascism alive?

I despise fascism. To me, it's the ultimate form of cowardice. It's a product of ignorance, of spiritual poverty, of fear and hatred. It's the antithesis of compassion, of intelligence, of love.

I'm working at The Ballet Austin at the moment, and they're putting on a dance that's telling someone's story of the holocaust. As it's the 60th anniversary of the liberation of the camps, perhaps it's appropriate, too, that this should come up. http://www.balletaustin.org/onstage/


In Germany they came first for the the Communists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for the trades-unionists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trades-unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me, and by that time no one was left to speak up.

Martin Niemoeller, 1892-1984.

Reading that as a child helped form a lot of my political beliefs. That, and the works of George Orwell.

Thing is, it's so easy to blame others for our lot in life. It's easy to join one group and rail against another group, or choose to identify with one group in order to find a sense of reality. I think that perhaps it's a common enemy that unites us more than anything. I mean, it's ironic that it took another world war to unite Britain. My mother said that wartime was in many ways like a big party. Everyone was friendly, because they had someone to focus their hatred on: Hitler. It's odd that we need something to hate or fight to give us purpose. We're odd creatures, aren't we? I mean, I think that all the racial intolerance and so on is only misplaced purpose, that comes from learned helplessness. People hate because they're scared. So the first thing we have to do is have compassion for our enemies, right? Didn't somone talk about that a few years back?

I suppose that's why I found my parents' frostiness so disturbing. I mean, when you can't have compassion for someone who was once your lover, what hope is there for you? But in turn, that leads me to understand that I need compassion myself, for those who are scared in this life for whatever reason they're scared.

Maybe I need to post something about Martin Luther King. There was another influence on me.