The “Left” as a Secular Religion, from “The Force of Reason”, by Oriana Fallaci (2006)

“…in the inanimate democracies,
in the inert democratic regimes,
everything can be stated except the Truth.”

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Whether it dresses in red or black or pink or green or white
or in all the colours of the rainbow,
the Left is confessional.  
Ecclesiastic.  
Because it derives from an ideology of religious character.  
That it, because it appeals to an ideology which claims to possess the Truth.  
On one side, the Good.  
On the other, the Evil.  
On one side, the Sun of the Future.  
On the other, the Darkness.  
On one side, the Comrades.  
The blessed ones, the Faithful.  
On the other the infidels or rather infidel-dogs.” 

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“Because the Truth inspires fear.”

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“Making good men bad is perhaps more demonic than making men who are already bad worse.” – Alain Besancon

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Oriana Fallaci
– Photo by Alberto Toscani –

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Oh yes.  It is a long-term ruler this Left that gave birth to Mussolini then Hitler,
and always maintained its bond with their disciples.  
This Left which has always given trouble with its excesses and ambiguities,
its brutalities and duplicities.  
All right: it has also given something good: I recognize it.  
In Italy, for instance, it has helped to win vital battles
like the referendum for the Republic then for the divorce.  
It has also understood in time that,
if the Communist Party continued to be a satellite of the Soviet Union,
the whole of Europe would have become a gulag.  
Thus it had to accept NATO.  
But its sins greatly outweigh its merits.  
And its sins are so many that,
if Hell existed,
at the death all Communists and Company would plunge headlong into Lucifer’s throat.  
One of those sins
(I already said this in The Rage and The Pride
but I shall never give up repeating what needs to be repeated)
concerns its intellectual terrorism.  
Its presumption and assumption of holding the Truth.  
Its dogmatism.  
A dogmatism identical to the one of religions and churches.  
“If-you-don’t-do-what-I-think, you-are-an-idiot-and-a-delinquent”
is the silent slogan that through
film-makers
and school-teachers
and university-professors
and intellectuals or pseudo-intellectuals
has poisoned two generations and now poisons the third.  
(Let’s be straight.  
The Red Brigades didn’t come out of Cavour’s brain:
they came out of the belly of the Left.  
The no-globals and the mendacious pacifists
who disseminate the most obtuse illiberalism and the most bullying fascism
were not spawned by the Holy Spirit:
they were spawned by the Left.  
And this truth is valid for America too.  
Doesn’t American anti-Americanism originate from its Left?)

____________________

The Left speaks of progress.
For a century is has been singing hymns to Progress,
to Improvement,
to the Sun of the Future.
Thus, how can it possibly be fornicating with the most backward and reactionary ideology on Earth?!
The Left was born and grew in the West.
It is western.
It belongs to the most evolved civilization in history.
Thus, how can it possibly identify with a world
in which you have to be told that marrying your mother is wrong
and eating the sheep you keep as a mistress is a sin?!
How can it possibly sing the praises of a world
in which a girl can be widowed or repudiated at the age of nine or before?!
Then my sort of malady became an obsession, and I started asking:
“Do you understand, can you understand, why the Left is on the side of Islam?”
Well…  Some answered: “Because the Left is pro Third World, anti-American, anti-Zionist.
Islam is also so.
In Islam the Left sees what the Red Brigades call their natural “ally”.
Others answered:  “Because with the collapse of the Soviet Union
and the rise of capitalism in its former States and in China,
the Left has lost the old points of reference.
Ergo it clings to Islam as to a lifeboat.”
Or:  “It’s obvious.
In Europe the real proletariat no longer exists,
and a Left without a proletariat is like a shopkeeper with no goods.
So in the Islamic proletariat the Left has found the merchandise it needs for selling:
a future reservoir of votes.”
But, although all the answers contained an indisputable truth,
none of them took account of the reasoning my question was based upon.
I continued to torment myself,
and this lasted until I realized that my question was wrong.

____________________

“…the Left is confessional.  
Ecclesiastic.  
Because it derives from an ideology of religious character.  
That it, because it appeals to an ideology which claims to possess the Truth.  
On one side, the Good.  
On the other, the Evil.  
On one side, the Sun of the Future.  
On the other, the Darkness.  
On one side, the Comrades.  
The blessed ones, the Faithful.  
On the other the infidels or rather infidel-dogs. 
The Left is a Church.”  

It was wrong because it came from a residue of respect for the Left
I had known as a child.  
The Left of my grandparents, of my parents,
of my dead comrades, of my youth’s utopias.  
The Left that ceased to exist half a century ago.  
It was wrong also because it came from the political solitude in which I have always lived.  
A political solitude which at that time
included the one given to me by moral and intellectual desert
of the phony heroes in whom I had believed as a youngster.  
Justice and freedom.  
Liberal-socialism.  
And so on.  
But above all it was wrong
because the reasonings or rather the premises
on which I had based my interrogative were wrong.  
First premise, my illusion that the Left would be laic.  
I mean secular.  
Though the daughter of secularism,
(besides a secularism begotten by liberalism
and consequently not consonant with dogmatism),
the Left is not laic.  
Whether it dresses in red or black or pink or green or white
or in all the colours of the rainbow,
the Left is confessional.  
Ecclesiastic.  
Because it derives from an ideology of religious character.  
That it, because it appeals to an ideology which claims to possess the Truth.  
On one side, the Good.  
On the other, the Evil.  
On one side, the Sun of the Future.  
On the other, the Darkness.  
On one side, the Comrades.  
The blessed ones, the Faithful.  
On the other the infidels or rather infidel-dogs. 
The Left is a Church.  
And not a Church similar to the Church which came out of Christianity,
thus open to free-will.  
A Church similar to Islam.
Like Islam it considers itself sanctified by a God who is the custodian of the Truth.  
Like Islam it never acknowledges its faults and its errors,
it considers itself infallible and never apologizes.  
Like Islam it demands a world in its own image,
a society built on the verses of the Prophet.  
Like Islam it enslaves followers.

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“Everything can be spread except the thinking which reveals the Truth.
Because the Truth inspires fear.
Because in reading or hearing the Truth
most people surrender to fear and out of fear they draw a no-trespassing line around it.”

…in the inanimate democracies,
in the inert democratic regimes,
everything can be stated except the Truth.
Everything can be spread except the thinking which reveals the Truth.
Because the Truth inspires fear.
Because in reading or hearing the Truth
most people surrender to fear and out of fear they draw a no-trespassing line around it.
They built an invisible but insurmountable barrier
inside which one can only keep silent or join the chorus.
If the dissident crosses that line,
if he or she jumps over the Niagara Falls or that barrier,
punishment descends on him or on her at the speed of light.
And those who make it possible are precisely the people
who secretly think as he or she does
but out of convenience or cowardice don’t raise their voices
against the anathemas and the persecutions.
The friends, very often.
Or the so-called friends.
The partners.
Or the so-called partners.
The colleagues.
Or the so-called colleagues.
In fact, for a while, they beat behind the bush.
They trifle; they keep a foot in both camps.
But soon they become silent and,
terrified by the risks that such ambiguity exposes to, they sneak away.
The abandon the outlaw to his or her fate,
and with their silence they give their approval to his or her Civil Death.
(Something that I have experienced all over my life but especially in these last years.
“I can support you no longer” said to me, two or three Christmases ago,
a famous Italian journalist who had written two editorials in my defense.
“Why?” I sadly asked.
“Because people don’t talk to me anymore;
don’t invite me at dinner anymore,” he replied.

From…

The Force of Reason, by Oriana Fallaci, Rizzoli International Publications Inc., New York, N.Y., 2006

Alain Besancon Quote from…

A Century of Horrors: Communism, Nazism, and the Uniqueness of the Shoah, ISI Books, Wilmington, De., 2007

A Spirit of the Ages: “Darkness at Noon”, by Yohanan Ramati (11/17/21-1/28/16)

The prophetic “Darkness at Noon” is one of the 165 poems composed by Israeli scholar Yohanan Ramati from the 1980s through the early 90s, which are collected in the volume Fata Morgana, published by the Bialik Institute in Jerusalem in 1995.  A very brief biography of Mr. Ramati, from the book’s cover, follows:

“Yohanan Ramati, born in Warsaw, Poland, in 1921, went to school in Switzerland and Vienna.  In 1935, because his father decided Poland was no place for Jews, Ramati was sent to England.  He watched Neville Chamberlain promise the world “Peace in our time” after signing the Munich pact with Hitler.  In 1939-1942 he studied Politics, Economics, and Philosophy at Oxford University.  He then worked as a coal miner in Yorkshire, before joining the British Army in which he served until 1948.

“Settling in Israel in 1949, he worked at writing reports, studies, and newspaper articles.  From 1954 to 1976 he was managing editor of The Israel Economist.  His poetry, though written after he turned 60, strongly appeals to young people in their twenties and thirties in its candor, directness, and understanding for universal human feelings and problems, despite his unconcealed Jewish patriotism.  He has often said that a person who cannot love his own people is incapable of loving humanity.  Of his musical compositions, three have been broadcast and several others have been performed at public concerts.

“Yohanan Ramati married Datia (nee Kaplan) in 1947.  One of their children, Eliora Carmon – commemorated in Ramati’s symphonic poem – was killed when the Israeli Embassy in Buenos Aires was blown up by terrorists in 1992.  Their two other children, Michal and Yonatan, live in Galilee.”

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Eliora Carmon, from the X account of the Israel Foreign Ministry

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The poems in Fata Morgana are divided into five sections, entitled – in sequence – “Ballads” (8 poems), “Love” (40), “Children” (6), “Animal Poems” (15), “Americana” (4), “Of Man and the Universe” (the largest section, with 70 poems, including “Darkness at Noon”), “The Jews” (6), and lastly, “Israel, Oh Israel!” (16 poems). 

Fata Morgana is entirely absent of explanatory text about the specific date of composition of Mr. Ramati’s poems, or, the “sparks” of emotion, time, and place that inspired their creation; it only includes titles and text, leaving influences to the imagination of the reader.  

As for the very phrase “Darkness At Noon”, Mr. Ramati specifically acknowledges Arthur Koestler’s novel as the inspiration for his poem.

What about “Fata Morgana”?  As described at Wikipedia, the phrase is Italian, and is the designation for, “…a complex form of superior mirage visible in a narrow band right above the horizon.  The term Fata Morgana is the Italian translation of “Morgan the Fairy” ([the enchantress] Morgan le Fay of Arthurian legend).  These mirages are often seen in the Italian Strait of Messina, and were described as fairy castles in the air or false land conjured by her magic.”  Tellingly, “Fata Morgana mirages significantly distort the object or objects on which they are based, often such that the object is completely unrecognizable.”

In literary terms, a Fata Morgana, “…is usually associated with something mysterious, something that never could be approached.”  Examples given at Wikipedia include Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s 1873 poem by that name, the poet Christoph Martin Wieland’s use of the phrase to denote “…castles in the air,” and, the famed H.P. Lovecraft’s allusion to the phenomenon in describing atmospheric effects in Antarctica, in his famous and culturally influential 1936 short novel of cosmic horror, “At the Mountains of Madness”.

Mr. Ramati’s prophetic non-fiction essays, which I believe appeared in the Bulletin of the Jerusalem Institute for Western Defence, published between 1989 and 2009, include:

“Jewish Motives” (February, 1994)
“Friends”
“The Islamic Danger to Western Civilization”
“Israel’s Real Strategic Problems”,
“Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics – A Comparative Case Study of The Yugoslav and Middle East Crises” (December, 1996)

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Portrait of Yohanan Ramati by Sissel Vagard

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Darkness at Noon

(With apologies to Arthur Koestler, who would have understood.)

The little screens are fed by fertile brains
Of the select who know what people need

And pose as guardians of our liberties
Yet treat us with contempt.

We like their face,
The face of self-appointed oracles
Pronouncing doom on values we revered
When we could still distinguish true from false,
When love of country still was burning deep
In many souls… and in our musing minds
We contemplated a nefarious world
Without attempting to deceive ourselves
Each day and every minute.

They are dead –
Those days when some illumined were by faith
While others lived, and living made mistakes
Which were at least their own.

Like vipers’ teeth
Unholy years have left their deadly mark:
Week after weary week we watched the shades
Performing rites of gods we let usurp
The seats of power, our vision warped
By wishful dreams.

They sang to us their songs
Of everlasting peace if we succumb
Or just refrain from succouring our friends,
Describing them as denizens of hell
With skillful touches of satanic pens
Dipped into vicious venom.

Knowing us
With all our weaknesses, they made us laugh,
Feeding the cruelty in human hearts
With ridicule of all that we held dear,
Destroying values e’en as we believed
They were but joking…  And they played their parts
With charismatic lustre blinding us
To their true meaning, to the little push
Towards a tempting, effervescent glow
Obscuring the reality beneath.

* * *

“You’re lying!” says the stooge – and I reply:
Can you still tell the tyrant from the serf?
Can you still recognize your liberties?
Or do you now imagine like the rest
That these be but the freedom of the men
Who feed the screens to tell you what to think?

* * *

Democracy was once the people’s rule.
Today, it is the undisputed realm
Of those we’re not allowed to criticize
On pain of ostracism: The handsome lout
Who reads the news with just the slightest touch
Of sarcasm or appeal to guide our will,
The make-up man whose anonymous hate
Turns would-be politicians into ghouls,

The commentator with the gracious smile
Bought by a boorish sheikh whose distant wealth
Controls the pearls of wisdom we lap up,
The journalist who will report the facts
Only if they accord with his beliefs
Or with the views of the conceited ass
Who owns his paper…

Yea, integrity
May yet be found among this curious caste
But rarely, oh, so rarely!

* * *

Dare I think
Just for myself?
Dare I express a doubt
Concerning fashions deprecating pride
And whisper loyalty to my own flag?
Dare I yet offer to defend my state,
Its interest and the free allied with us?
Is our sacred blood
Really so precious that to spill a drop
To protect freedom is a blasphemy,
So oppressors vile
Need kill but five of us – the rest will run?

* * *

Protesters march with banners fiercely held
Beneath a sky abandoned.  For our sun,
The sun of human hope has disappeared
Covered by clouds of cant.
We humbly watch
The scene through the impenetrable bars
Of an infernal logic teaching us
That right is wrong and left is always right,
That weak is good and red is really white,
That fear deserves our praise, that freedom means
Your freedom to assist a foreign foe
But never mine to stop you doing so!

I want to scream, but who will hear my pain?
The little screen no longer has a place
For morons who would banish what it calls
“The Spirit of Our Age”.
So deep within
My heart must slowly break as there, outside, The darkness reigns at noon…

And further…

Yohanan Ramati, at…

University of Saint Andrews (Correspondence)

… The National Library of Israel

Billion Graves (יוחנן רמתי)