Si I I af ? SHH

Ans\vcr CLII k’1 A. c I

AWilte nn r-;i ()OOLOO \\ods) in whih \O1 .iR; md i r1et I lanCKwcishLx sliort (O’ “‘[lie Decliiw o[tlic \\‘ea’.

ol ei es:m\’ nua ibcw; oi ihe Uo1 .ov’s o ni ol’ \‘k\\ mi the tie.

1b t

I Int ii’ t’ui’:isln. ‘i lie Dccl liii’ Ol i i(’ Vs’4;i , 20 lo . pa’. 2

\\ dis ni maaiv (000-12(10 vmda) iii svhwh von aiial’me and comment on .lonatlnnl.:raiizcIl’s csaav “Liking I For (ovarcR. Go lai Wji;if Hurts’.

Part ofyour aay musi iocua oii lioss Jonathan Franzcn trins to cagagn a yoilil5niidicce an(I mi the m’ssane al’ ilie csnv.

‘1 ‘CX

ii Ha izen. “[iS ing is Idi’ Coward (b dr \V hat Hu rts”. 2011. page i

J( /4 Sti I IlL 0/ fU’/ fI 0 IL IlS(i 111/1/ /01( I /0/1(1 ,/4 11 1 / /1(1 (1’) J ( ff( I()/rvcaI/iIIgeIl /0l(’(’f’ //d4(? Il0(/i’0/O//( 7r/o/’/(egn/e. Dog /o4 i’V/.)I’IW’,.tt )1ØJC. /110!o,rvo’lijin’n j der ene ef/el’ 0//de/i nnde iiidgni’ i opgal’cn.

1icIc 2 il 12 sI(iCI

A

The short sioiy was lrst piibhshed iii 2010 in (o1Ieted Stones by Ilanif Kurcishi (b.1954) who is an acc.kiiiued Engi ish wuiler. He was bom and grew tip in England os theson o1 a Pakistani tithcr and a British mother.

i Jo i i I i old

The Dccline of the West11w tube joninev hin! been ora: ol the i0i desola Mike bad elHililal. and he’d beenlook i iii l0F\VW (I 0 0 HO Ii the (1001 mio ti 0 \\ arm hl II, I içai 01 tiP 0IPPS (Ii his Wi leamLliildmii and seent Iiee1t(01l1edOv’i( llicslaiisio rub ilagainsthim.Jko ‘iiiIv wOILPO. Ies lian tWl’I\CllOllC (1(y 011(1 1 had l)i’Oii \\‘(‘PkS Oli*c incl 0

hoiiic ihis (I5i Th an pali’ Si(\\ 1000 oLlus ioitie and liiiiiily than lu did,I le thouehi 1w slioiild b s \v I the news al I ïht 0WH, hul I moi,cn )a,SP0 hirn

ill the hall calaying mi iii :111(1 tonic’. saying sho was going upstairs to have a bath. Mike1)111 led a ico/co (11(01 ff11111 thI HL’Ç cii and put ii in the uinw a\ 0. Wiiing Ibm it to heatop, he ponced b usd1’ a laic ol wiiic min i 100(1 at 1w loo WiflliO\\ w hbh oci’1ooI: ii

HJ Ild Pairdeil.I I(’ lia1 boen iltIeHdi(ls: Ic start rca(Ii1’le about and ((iIe(’tifl( \ i Ih. b iuo0cn had ii;iai

ud a 1101)1w’ would maLe hin:i lesa ucatleas; havine reccii lv eiven LIJ) smokinct, wine \O(ih(l1w 50100 dOrflI)dulSct 101].

Fie lolioved 1w was good at givi ng du hugo op. Unlike sonie ol’ his frici us and colo i iglies, lue could (()1lt col i imod]. hi: w 01 t ai i’ snit nI uddic. Biit iiow that the finaieil svsieuiu \\‘ilS 0111 (Ii COilliOl ind tod:iv lie had lmci rimd flaoikuig alniost everythingineltuding bi cleo of hue luture — WOS a (Ii (fcrç’nI iualter.

I le owilelied en the gardoji liehts and, 1 okunv oW at the new’ dccl< whero last summerIhev’d hold leichecuc i. houg!it. “1 paid Lor tIds widu Ifl Oliuc, inlchiigcnce, and the edti

2) Cat’en the stole pl’O\ (1(2(1 IflC with.” At the. ibm (211(1 (If the holden was a shed hc’d had budtibt I lIe boys 10 play flinsw in, fitied with mi I’V, drumkit a cid sound w:i an. The k kis hadstol iped usi og it b: [“oue he’d ha rdly begu ii nuy ing ibm i. i cyond that lie eoidci sec i im thebathrooms and hedrooms of’othci: Ibm lim; uniich like tlleirs.

Lbt cimited on the eoiuifoctabie outk kis of LondoH, their .honse was narrow with liveCloors and o[Pstreel parki og, overlooki og a green. As the boys liked to point om» Ol hercli udi’en at their school Imod iii bioor places; t hci (bthcms were the bosses cl’ recordcOi(IDaliii7S 05 fIial]Cial aclvisers tO famoiis iooiliii ier [VI ko, ii] COfltiilSt, ifl corporateIi im’ice, was rciatively sinall—iiie.

Side 3 af 12 sider

Mike put his plate on the hyper—shiny elegant dining—roorn table where he liked toi have supper and talk with friends, Irnogen, who lbr ycars had never knowingly ingestedanything non—organic, would have already eaten with the children, From where he satMike had a good view ofthe two boys playing a violent video game on the family televisiofi.

I-lis food wasn’t rcally cdih[e: the rice was dricci up, the prawns rubbery. The boys’35 dirty plates were still on the tabte, which was otherwise coverecl in school books, pencilcases, a rLlcksack out of which a Foothall kit was tumbling, and three £20 notes Irnogenhad left for the cicaner. Mike picked one of them up and looked at it ciosely. i-low hadhe never noticed what a sardonic little Mona Lisa smile the blinged-up’ monarch2wore,mocking even, as if ske pitied the vanity and greed the note inspired?“Mike, you’ve been stalked by good fortunc your whole life,” his father enjoyed say—

ing to kim -- the father who only finislied paying off kis rnortgagc when he retired, butotherwise considered debi a moral failure. “In Kent where i lived as a child there wereGerman bombs every night. You have suffered no such catastrophes, and no murders inthe family. You’rc one who escaped the twentieth century”But not the twenty-first. The word of the post-9/l i era, useci interminably by politi

cians and psychologists, was “security”, and the more the country had appeared to bepo1 iced by men i n flourescent jackets with “Security” stamped on the back, the moreafraid Mike felt — with good reason, as it turned out. Having progressed to running adeparrnent of forty people, Mike’s current job was to execute3 the employees he had

so engaged and, in two weeks’ time, pack up and rernove himseif.“Take out your platc and wash it up,” he callcd across to the fifteen-year-old, who

was play ing the garne.“[ did it yesterday,” Tom replied.“It is your plate,” said Mike. The boy ignored kim. “And please turn that game off.

ss Let’s watch football or a comedy. I need to be cheered up tonight.”“Leave mc alone,” said the kid. “I’ve just started. When you’re here you never let mc

do anything. You’re so controlling.”“Ten rninutes and it’s going off”“No it isn’t.”

os “Go and waste your life in your own room.”“My television’s broken,” said Tom. “Why don’t you get it fixed like you prornised?

What have you cvcr donc for mc?”“I’ve given you ali Pvc got and always will do so.”“Are you joking? You’ve done nothing for mc.”

os The smaller boy, four years kis brother’s junior, and who claimed to have hurt hisfoot, hopped across to Mike and rested his head on his shoulder. Mike put his armaround Billy and kissed kim. The older boy would never let Mike or even kis motherkiss kim now.

wearing flasisy jewelleryQueen Elizabeth II (depicted en ali Hank ol England notes since 1960)get iid ol

Side 4 af 12 sider

Mike had found ii entertaining that some of his colleagues had stated thcir intention7° ofbecoming gardeners until the recession lifted; apparently the only requirements werean empty head and a desire to develop your muscles. Others had said thcy might beforced into teaching. Mike, at forty-five, had no idca what he would do. First he had tolose evcrything.Billy patted Mike on the back, saying, flot without an element of patronisation, “I like

7$ you sometimes, Daddy. But I want guitar lessons. Sc tirst T’Il need the guitar and theamp. like Tom has?’Family lilb could appcar chaotic, but theirs was finely organised, with every hour

accounted for. Aa well as attending private schools, his sons had, as fkr as Mike couldrecall, tennis, Spanish, piano, swimming, singing and karate lessons, and they fre

oa quently attended the cinema, the theatre and fbotball matches. Like most ofhis friendsand acquaintances, Mike’s debts were huge, worth almost two years’ income. But he hadalways considered them — when he did consider them — to be only another outgoing’.Somebow, sometimc in the mid-1980s debt stopped bcing shameful and after 19892 thereappeared to be general agreement: capitalism was flourishing and there was no finer

os and more pleasant way to live bit under it, singing and spending.[..j Nonetheless, like many people, Mike had also worried whether the present

catastrophe was punishment ltr years of extravagance and self-indulgence; that thatwas thc debt which had to be paid back in suflring. I’et how could his Ikmily beconsidered despicable or guilty of this, when alI they’d asked ltr was continuous material

w improvement?Mike wandered across to the dishwasher, dropped in the lump ofdetergent, shut the

door, tapped the start button and the world went black. The clock on the cooker stopped,its bright digits stuck on four mund zeros; the microwave haltcd in mid-turn. AlI soundwas suddenly suspended, apati from a dog barking in a nearby garden.

os Out of that moment’s nothing the little boy’s voice called, “Dad, Dad, Dad — do somethingl”Mike fumbled in a drawer for a torch, crossed the house and was eventually able to

IbIlow the beam down the rackety wooden steps into the basement. Bit fri his stockinged feet on the slippery stair, he slipped and lost his footing. For a second he believedum he was crashing onto his back and would break his neck. How easy it was to fhll, andhow tempting it was — suddenly would be best — to didGrabbing the mli, he steadied himseif, took some breaths — smelling gas and rotting

cardboard - and padded down to the concrete floor where he stood surrounded by paintcans, broken children’s toys, a decade’s worth ofdiscarded purchascs and bags of credit

ias card receipts.

Finding at last the little Lever which made everything work again, he pulled it Therewas a surge and their awful world started up once more with its humming and vibrating.

‘expcnae2 the yenr when the Berlin wall collapoed

Side 5 af 12 sider

On his return to the light he couldn’t believe Tom had resumcd murdering dark—skinned people in sorne sort ofThird World laridscape.“Turn it off right now!” he shouted. “That’s enough!”“Bugger off.”“Tom please, I beg you. Go and do your homework. The world’s a filthy rough place

nin by jackals and murderers. You need to be prepared, ifsuch a thing is possible.”“Leave mc alone! Don’t ever talk to me again!”

115 Mike grabbed the boy and pulled hirn up out of the chair by his blue school shirt. “Dowhat I say sornetimes!”“Fuck off, cvii old man, just die! I’ve been wanting to do this al! day!”never spoke to niy father like that.”

“Mum snys you did.”20 Tom was taBer, stronger and fitter than Mike; for fun he sometimes put his father in aheadlock and pulled hini rouiid the room.“Turn it off trirn it oft turn it off!” Mike yelled at the boy, I—le ripped the controller

from Toni’s hand and lhrew it down. Tom lurched from his chair and made as to headbutt his father; Mike pushed hirn back in the chest and Tom stumb!ed and fell onto his

25 backside. Mike swore again and switchcd off the TV.“What’s going on? Is this good parenting?” His wife, who appeared to dress in dia

monds and gold when at lunch with her friends, carne iii wearing tracksuit bottoms, anold T—shirt and thick glasses, with white slippers she’d taken from a hotel. “Are you al!right? What’s he done now?” she saicl to Tom.

i3o “I think lie’s broken my arm,” said Tom, rubbing his elbow.“Your father’s mad,” said Iniogen.“Fie refuseci to turn off the game,” said Mike. “He shows mc neither love nor

respect.”“How could he?” she said. “It’s too late. You’ve spoiled and neglected hirn, you

us ridiculous, foolish man. And now you expect him to obey you!”“He tore my button right off,” said Tom.“And who will sew it back on?” said Imogen, staring at Mike.She worked for a charity three days a week. Inevitably it was poorly paid, but she was

the family conscicnce and Mike knew it was important to appear generous. Unlike sorne40 of his friends, he didn’t want a woman who worked as hard as hirn, a voman who wasnever at horne.Billy, who Mike wished wouldn’t grow up, but wanted to suspend at this age for ever,

reiterated, “Stop arguing and tell mc whether we’re definitely going to get my guitar onSaturday!”I...]

IS Imogen said, “You promised Billy a guitar, an amp and a microphone, so flow youhave to deliver.”“Just call mc the Delivery Man,” saici Mike. “That’s my name. But even you rnight

have noticed there’s a financial crash taking place.”

Side ( af 12 sider

“Ha! Any exeuse to let peoiile down.”“Indeed — that’s ali I’ve ever done. But what about you?” he said to her. “What do

you want to get next?”“Thank you for asking. I’ve been telling you for weeks I need a new computer,” she

sa i d.“l’ll get you the latest desktop Appic,’’ hc said. “With a printer, and maybe the nevest

‘5 iPod. Everyone shoulcl have what they want whenever they want ii. Why don’t you makea list so don’t forget anyone.”She poured hersel f another drink. “Al last — some sense! Things are moving forward

here!1—laving begun to fed “unfulfilled’’, she was planning to train as a thcrapist; it would

take at least three years, and he had agreeci not only to pay her fees but to support herwhile she studieci. “Once l’m earning,” she argueci, “this whole family will he much bet—ter off” Everything lie spent on her was an investment. This would have to be rethought.And to (hink, before this collapse, lie had been hoping to earn cnough in the next fewyears to kcep them secure for life.

ic; As lie got up she said, “You washed the other dishes but you forgot to take thcseplates out.” Mike collected ali the plates and look them to the sink. She continued, “Youknow, with your habits you should have married sorneone less house—proud, sorneonewith lower standards ali rounci.”She woulcln’t sec lie liked scrupulousness and order more as lie gol older. They

‘7o employed theii’ Bulgarian cleaner three times a week; the wornan was pregnant butsweated furiously as slie serubbeci and earried, afraid of losing her joh to sorneone else.Mike and his wife eonsidered thernselves to be equals and there was no way Imogen

would now wash the kitchen floor, dean their four toilets or vacuum the house. Sincecapitalism was crackirig under the weight of its contradictions as the Marxists’ had pre—

75 dieted — neither the cornmunists nor Islamists being responsible for its col lapse — thefamily would have to find a smaller place, sharing the household duties like everyoneelse, If there was no eornfort, what then were the consolations of capitalism? If there wasno moral accretion, not any next life, why should anyone support it?“Come on,” Imogen said to Tom. “We’il do your French homework in your roorn.”

is ‘‘I’lI read to Billy,” Mike said. “Are you ready, little boy?”Once Billy had cleaned his teeth and got into his pyjamas, they would lie oii the big

bed and ehat, with the boy’s head iii Mike’s chest; or they’d moek-figlit, sing ot readuntil the kid, and usually Mike, fell asleep. II was the part of the clay Mike enjoyed most.Irnogen strokecl Mike’s head before picking tip Tom’s rucksaek and French text book.

ss Mike said, “Darling, a shitty thing happened at work.”“is that unusual’?”“Wc should talk later.”

sorneone who agrees ‘.V th Mn rX tom the system (ri’ pol itical th in king i oven ted by Karl Mars, vls eb explainschanges jo history as the result of a struggle betwccn sociai ciasses

Side 7 af 12 sider

“Is it attention you’re aFter?” she saici.She and Tom were going up the stairs, Tom giggling at a 1’unny incident at school.“Please, Imogcn,” Mike cal led.“Latcr, if I’m stil! awake,” she said. “Or tomorrow.”‘‘Ton ight, I thi tik.’’“Maybe,” she said. “Anyway, when I’m lcss worn out by everything.”“Okay,” lie said. “When you’re ready let mc know.”

(2010)

B

‘the essay by Jonathan Franzcn is hased on a commencement speech tie delivered atKcnyon College, ()hio, USA. It was Fii’si ptiblished in lue New Yui* JY,nes, May 28,201 I. Jonathan Franen (b. 1959) is an acclaimed A merica ii novcl ist and cssayist.

ioi atlan i Fin nz’n

Liking is tb.r Cowards. Go for What [-lurts\ (ii \ ‘iFs io I iï’pliictil ‘0vun ‘. ‘-old BIL 1:hrry1 Peari ith aiiitii’ii HOi’’ powurtul l1l ‘rr’v Hold.Ncrdlss 0 Si\ I vas iiflpi;(iI v’nh hou’Lii, lie teciniolony min advan.’’d in threeeais. Lvcn wLi’n cl di ‘[ Lii i’ nivbocIto call ni’ Lcxt oi e-inail. I wanied 0 keepfond ing ti iy nev Bold and cX crl’iicirpthe Iflai\CIOLiS cianity of ts SC’iC(’ii the

ii 5i iky action ol’ us ti ark pad. the shoc:ki1!. 5{)crd of us rcsf’)onSc. iI’ie hce,nilmceiecaiice ni ifs ci’aphics.

I vas, iii sitoit, int tuated with iiiviie\V ilevier, I ‘d been sinulai’iy jo hituated

‘5 \viih my old dc\ lee. oP rourse: dut ru enhe ycars the bloom had hided from nui’i’eiaiion’;l np. ‘d devclopcd trust issueswith mv Peai’I, accountahility issues,(‘olnhlalibility issues and even. o\vild the

2 end, soii ic don his about my Pcarl ‘s verysanity, until l’d Ilnally had to adiuit tonivsrlf thai i’d otil crown the rclau ionship.Do I need b point nul that a bserit

some wild, snthvoponioi’phizing j:wo jer

a i

s ror3 ifl winet rav oil .Bl’k.H’i i “ kit sadaiout the \viniing al m lo\ c thi ii ourielrriaiship \VflS entirely arie iih’d? Letinc point it OLit IHV\\’:I’.Let mc hi ill ier ‘ot i mit how

irbiq nibotisly the \\ or(t “sexy” is used tock:sci’il”e ]ate’modc I cadis’t s; a ud how i heextrcniely ooi titiogs that we can du nuwwith thesc cadceus — like impuhiiw them(0 action willi voice umomands, ür’ doina

5 ti’iat spi’iicIii’thc-fingers Phnii thiiigthat makes images get biggcir \vouldhave hooked . to people a hu nn red ‘usaco, like a magiciun’s incaritatioris. ini:iicia i’s hand cestures; and hou, whenwu waitt to descuihe an erotic rclationsliiiithat ‘s working pe[ihctl\’. Wc speak,indeed. ol niacic.Let inc los offi (lie idea that. as our

manke t s cliscover and ne ond t what15 eonsuinei’s niost wa ni. our teuh nolocyhas beconie cxtrcincly aclcpt at creat ingproduets that cori’cspoi ml to our flini asyideal ol iii i erot ic ccliii ioiish ip, iii wh ich

‘ ‘)/!/H’QJrIfl)//’/IIflL’ ‘oi ,‘,‘:n: asci’ibi i,char’rri,sri’ b niniiuatc nbjcc’is

Side () af 12 sider

the bclovcd objcct asks for nothing and5 gives cveryth ing, instantly, and makes usFed ali powerfu 1, and docsn’t th row ler—ribic scenes when it’s replaced by an evensexier object and is consigned to a drawer,To speak more generally, the ultimate

ss goal of tcchnology ..] is to replace a natural world that’s i nclifTerent to our wishesa world of hurricanes and hardsh ips and

breakabic hearts, a world of resistance —

with a world so responsive to our wishesas to be, efTectively, a mere extcnsion ofthe seif.Let mc suggcst, finally, that the world

of’ techno-consumerism is thcrcf’orctroubled by real love, and that it has no

65 choicc but to troubic love ja turn.lis first line ofdefense is to

commodify’ its enerny. You can alt supplyyour own favorite, most nauseatirigexamples ol the commodification of love.Mine include the wedding industry, TVads that fèature cute young children orthe giving ofautomobiles as Christmaspresenis, and the particularly grotcsqueequation of diamond jewelry with

75 everlasting devotion. The message, ineach case, is that ifyou love somehodyyou should buy stuffA related phenomenon is the transfor

mation, courtesy of Facebook, of the verbo “to like” From a state of mmci to an actionthat you perform with your computermouse, from a feeling to an assertion ofconsumer choice. And liking, in general,is commercial culture’s substitute for lov-

65 ing. The striking thing about ali consurnerproducts — and none more so than electronic devices and applications — is thatthey’rc designed to be immensely likable.This is, in fact, the deinition ofa con

sumer product, ifl contrast to the productthat is simply itseif and whosc makersaren’t fixated on your hk ing it. (1 ‘rn th ink—ing here oFjet engincs, lahoratory equipment, scrious art and literature.)

ss But i F you considcr this in humanterms, and you irnagine a person definedby a desperation to he liked, what do yousec? You sec a person without integrity,without a center. En more pathologicalcases, you sec a narcissist a person whocan’t tolerate the tarnishing of his or hersel1image that not being liked represents,and who therefore eithcr v ithduaws fromhuman contact or goes to extreme, integri—

(5 ty—sacri1cing lengths to be likablc.If you dedicate your existence to

heing Ii kabie, however, and i 1’ you adoptwhatever cool persona2 is necessaryto make it happen, it suggests that

no you’vc despaircd ofbeing loved For whoyou really are. And ifyou succeed inmanipulating other people into likingyou, it will he hard flot to Fed, at someIcvcl, eontempt for those people, because

‘is they’ve Fallen for your shtick. You mayfind yourself becoming depressed, oralcohohic, or, ifyou’rc Donald Trump3,running For president (and then quitting).Consurner technology products would

never do anything this unattractive,bccausc they aren’t people. They are, however, great allies and enablers of narcissism. Alongside their built-in eagerness tohe hiked is a built-in eagcrness to reflect

25 weli on us. Our lives look a bt more interesting when thcy’re filtered through thesexy Facebook interflice. Wc star in ourown movies, we photograph ourselves

2 unaskDonald John Trump, St. (b, 1q463 is an Americanbusineos niagnate and television peusonalityto itt rn i nto or Luca i is a commod i ty

Side 0 aF 12 sider

ineessantly, we dick the mouse and amachiie Conf 1IfiS our SCDSC of mastery.And, since our teebnology is really just

an extension ofourselves, we don’t haveto have contempi For us manipulabilityin the way we rnight with actual people.

‘s Tt’s ali one big cndless loop. Wc like theni i rror and the mi rror likcs us. To Friend aperson is merely to inciude (lie person inour private hal I oF liattering mirrors.

I may he overstating the case, a little- bit. Very probably, you’re sick to deathoF hearing social media disrespectec[ bycranky 51-year—olds. My airn here is main—ly to set up a contrast betwcen the narcis—sislic tendencies of technology and the

‘5 problem ofactual love. My friend AliceSebold) likes to taik about “gctting clownin the pit and loving somebody.” She hasin mmd the dirt that love inevitably splattcrs on the mirror of our sclf-regard.The simple fact of the matter is that

trying to be perfcctly likable is incompat—ible with loving rclationsh ips. Sooner orlater, for example, you’re going to findyourself’ iii a hideous, screarning Fight,

ss and you’ll hear corning out ofyour rnouththings that you yourself don’t like at alI,things that shatter your seif—image as afair, kind, cool, attractive, in—control,funny, likable person. Something realer

60 than likability has come out in you, andsuddenly you’re having an actual life,Suddenly there’s a real choice to

be made, flot a fake consumer choicebetween a BlackBerry and an iPhone, but

165 a question: Do I love this person? And,for the other person, does this person lovemc?There is no such thing as a person

Alice Sebold (b. 1963) is an American vr,ter

whose real selfyou like every partiele ofThis is why a world of’ Ii king is ultimatelya lie. But Ihere is sueh a thing as a personwhose real sd I’ you love every particie ofAnd this is why love is such an existentialthreat to the techno—consurncrist order: it

‘75 exposes the lie.This is flot to say that love is only

about fighting. Love is about bottornlessempathy, horn out of the heart’s revelationthat another person is every hit as realas you are. And this is why love, as ILinderstand it, is always specific. Tryingto love ali of’ humamty may be a worthyendeavor, hut, iii a funny way, it keeps thefocus on the sclf, o.n the sclf’s own morai

ss or spiritual well—being. Whereas, to love aspecific person, and to identify with his orher struggies and joys as ifthcy were yourown, you have to surrender some ofyourseT f.The big risk here, ofcourse, is rejec—

tion. Wc can alI handle being dislikednow and then, because there’s such aninfinitely big 13001 of potential likers. Butto expose your wholc scif, flot just the

1)5 likable surface, and to have it re.jected,can be catastrophically painful. Theprospect ofpain general ly, the pain ofloss, ofbreakup, of death, is what makesit so tempting to avoid love and stay safely

2(10 in the world of liking.And yct pain hurts but it doesn’t kiIl.

When you consider the alternative ananesthetized dream2 of self-sufficiency,abetted by tcchnology

—pain emerges as

205 the natural product and natural indica—tor ofbcing alive in a resistant world. Togo through a life painlessly is to have notlived. Even just to say to yourself, “Oh,2 a cl rearn that leaves no pai n

Side II afl2sider

Pil get to that love and pain stuiflater,z’o maybe iii my 30s” is to consign yourseIfto 10 years ofnierely taking up space onthe planet and burning up its resources. Ofbeing (and i meati this in the most damning sense of the word) a consumcr.

215 When I was in college, and Ibr manyyears after, i liked the natural world.Didn’t love it, but definitely liked it. Tt canbc very pretty, nature. And since i waslooking Rr things to find wrong with theworld, I naturally gravitated td environmentalism, because there were certainJyplenty ofthings wrong with the environment And the more i looked at what waswrong — an exploding world population,

ns exploding levels oP resource consumption,rising global temperatures, the trashingof the oceans, the logging oPour last oldgrowth forests — the angrier I became.F’inally, in the mid-1990s, I made

no a conscious decision to stop worryingabout the environment. flere was nothing meaningful that I personally could doto save the planet, and I wanted to get onwith devoting mysclf to the things I loved.

z» I still tried to keep my carbon footprint2small, but that was as far asi could gowithout fhlling back into rage and despair.

Bid then a funny thing happenedto mc.It’s a long story, but basically I fril in

aio love with birds. I did this not withoutsignificant resistance, because ft’s veryuncool to be a birdwatcher, becauseanything that betraj,s real passion is bydefinition uncool. But little by little, in

245 spite ofmyself, I developed this passion,‘to be attracted to something and Iherefora movetowarda it or become i,wolved with iithe measum of the amount ofcarbon dioxkleivteascd: C02-uflsyk

and although one-halfofa passion isobsession, the other half is love.And so, yes, I kept a meticulous list

oP the birds Ud seen, and, yes, I went tozt inordinate lengths to sec new spccics. But,no less important, whenever I looked at abird, any bird, even a pigeon or a robin,I could fed my heart overflow with love.And lovet as Pvc been trying to say today,

ns is where our troubles begin.Because now, not merely lilcing nature

but loving a specific and vital part of it, Ihad no choice but to start worrying aboutthe environment again. The news on that

w front was no better than when T’d decidedto quit worrying about it - was considerably worse, iii fttct — but now those thrcatened forcsts and wetlands and oceansweren’t just pretty scenes for mc to enjoy.

265 They were the horne ofanimals I loved.And here’s where a curious paradox

emerged. My anger and pain and despairabout the planet were only increased bymy concern for wild birds, and yet, as I

nu began to get involved in bird conservationand learned more about the many threatsthat birds flice, it became easier, not harde; to live with my anger and despair andpain.

ns How does this happen? I think, for onething, that my love of birds became a portal to an important, less self-centered partofmyselfthat I’d never even known existal. Instead of continuing to drift forward

iso through my li1i as a global citizen, likingand disliking and withholding my eommitment for sorne later date, I was forcedto confront a seif that I had to eitherstraight-up accept or flat-out reject.

ss Whichiswhatlovcwilldotoaperson.Because the fundamental fad about ali

Side l2afl2sidcr

ofus is that we’re alive lbr a while butwill die beibre long. This fact is the realroot cause ofall our anger and pain anddespair. And you can cither nin from this&ct or, by way of love, you can embraceii.When you stay in your room and rage

or snccr or shrug your shouldcrs, as I did

295 (br many ycars, the world and its problemsare impossibly daunting. But when you goout and put yoursclf in real relation to realpeople, or even just real animals, therc’s avery real danger that you might love some

xc ofthem.And who knows what mighi happen to

you then?

(2011)

Anvendt materiale (til brug for Copydan):

HanjfKureishi. “The Decilne of the Wesfl CollecledStorle.t London: Faber and Paber, 2010.Jonathan Franzen. “Liking Is ror cowards. Go ror What Kurts” 77e New York flutes websito, May 28,2011. vicwed May 2012. (www.nytimes.com)

Jesse L. Jackson. “Rev. Jessc L. Jackson Sr. Remembcrs the Life ofSmokin’ Joe Frazier”. Rainbow Pushwebsitc, November 14, 201!, viewcd May 2012. (www.rainbowpush.org)