La période des fêtes est terminée... Et ensuite?
Semaine du 1-7 janvier 2007
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L’icône et l’islam : Pamela Chrabieh
Émission Second Regard,
3 décembre 2006, Radio Canada
Un reportage de Jean-Robert Faucher
Merci Robert et à toute l'équipe de Second Regard!
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De Philippe Martin:
'Voici la onzième édition des portraits de blogueurs, avec Pamela Chrabieh Badine'.
On peut trouver l'entrevue sur Dailymotion, Cent Papiers et YULBUZZ.
Merci à Philippe et Christian Aubry!
Émission Second Regard,
3 décembre 2006, Radio Canada
Un reportage de Jean-Robert Faucher
Merci Robert et à toute l'équipe de Second Regard!
-----------------------------
De Philippe Martin:
'Voici la onzième édition des portraits de blogueurs, avec Pamela Chrabieh Badine'.
On peut trouver l'entrevue sur Dailymotion, Cent Papiers et YULBUZZ.
Merci à Philippe et Christian Aubry!
-------------------------------------------
En ce début de l'année 2007, marqué par les conflits continus, la violence, les injustices et les inégalités tant au Liban qu'à travers le monde, voici quelques paroles de sagesse, de liberté et de paix sur lesquelles nous pourrions méditer:
- "Paradoxalement, on ne peut être utile à soi sans l'être aux autres. Que nous le voulions ou pas, nous sommes tous liés, et il est inconcevable de ne réussir que son propre bonheur. Celui qui ne se préoccupe que de lui finit dans la souffrance. Celui qui ne se préoccupe que des autres prend soin de lui sans même y penser. Même si nous décidons de rester égoïste, soyons-le intelligemment: aidons les autres! (Le Dalaï-Lama)
- "Si nous avons très mal agi envers autrui, regrettons-le. Reconnaissons nos erreurs, mais sans penser que nous nous condamnons ainsi à ne plus pouvoir vivre normalement. N'oublions pas ce que nous avons fait, mais ne nous laissons pas déprimer ou briser par le remords. Ne soyons pas indifférent, ce qui équivaudrait à oublier, mais pardonnons-nous à nous-même: 'Je me suis trompé dans le passé, mais cela ne se reproduira plus. Je suis un être humain, je suis capable de me libérer de mes erreurs'. Si nous perdons espoir, c'est que nous ne nous sommes pas pardonné (Le Dalaï-Lama)
- "La tolérance mutuelle est donc la règle d'or de notre conduite. Il va de soi en effet que nous ne serons jamais tous du même avis et que la Vérité nous apparaîtra de manière fragmentaire selon des points de vue différents. La conscience ne nous parle pas à tous d'une façon identique. Sans doute est-elle un excellent guide pour chacun; mais vouloir imposer aux autres les règles de notre conduite individuelle serait une entorse intolérable à notre liberté de conscience" (Gandhi)
- "On peut s'assurer qu'un conflit a été réglé selon les principes de la non-violence s'il ne laisse aucune rancoeur entre les ennemis et en fait des amis. J'en ai fait l'expérience en Afrique du Sud avec le général Smuts. Ennemi irréductible au départ, il est devenu aujourd'hui mon ami le plus cordial" (Gandhi)
"Ne te prive pas de l'avis des autres même s'il te paraît insignifiant, car l'avis est comme une perle que l'on peut trouver sur le chemin tout comme sur le fumier" (Tawhidi)
"La vie est courte, les heures s'envolent, les mouvements continus, les occasions sont comme des éclairs, les désirs dans le but de se réaliser se condensent pour se disperser aussitôt et les âmes, pour n'avoir pas atteint ces voeux, se dissipent et se consument" (Tawhidi)
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Permettez-moi ici de vous présenter le texte suivant de ma soeur Michèle, petite réflexion suite à Noël, al-Adha et le Nouvel an. Après tout, qu'importe les tensions et les problèmes internes, les Libanais-es font la fête... Besoin de vivre? Oui, mais aussi, preuve d'espoir...
A Week of Festivities in Lebanon: Christmas, Adha and New Year
Michèle Chrabieh in Beirut.
Tuesday January 2, 2007.
No demonstration, no war threat and no politician was capable of halting the flood of the Lebanese Diaspora to Lebanon in times of holidays and feasts. The empty restaurants and bars of the past weeks were jam-packed, the alcohol consumption mounted and the varnished smiles resurfaced. For those who live and work in Lebanon, the next morning did not matter. It was about enjoying every moment and every friend before our politicians breach this “holiday truce”. We were and still are exhausted for a good cause and at least displaying complacent smirks. The closing stages of this euphoric and free from “feel free to use the term you believe to be the most suitable” week were presided by Michel Hayek’s 2007 “prophecies”. Hayek revealed our greatest fear with an anesthetic touch: the peaceful and prosperous Lebanon we all crave for will not materialize in the short run, but it will. Praise the lord!
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Je vous recommande vivement de visiter le site-web d'Abdellatif Farhate, mieux connu sous le nom de Kalamour, jeune artiste marocain dont les oeuvres interpellent profondément toute personne recherchant un sens à la vie et aux relations humaines:
Et voici un texte qui présente ses oeuvres et celles de son équipe:
« Voulez-vous savoir l’histoire abrégée de presque toute notre misère ? La voici ! Il y avait un homme naturel, on a introduit au-dedans de cet homme, un homme artificiel, et il s’est élevé dans la caverne une guerre continuelle qui dure toute la vie» (Denis DIDEROT).
Bientôt Gaïa (la mère terre) poussera ses cris de révolte contre la misère, le désastre, la guerre… bref ; contre l’artificiel destructeur qui est en chacun de nous, et elle donnera naissance à un seul « soi » sain et humain.
Le cri étant symbole de cette révolte saine et interne, que chacun de nous doit faire contre ce qu’il voit de mal en lui, à fin d’aboutir par la suite à la découverte de son « soi » dénudé de toute chose artificielle qui peut nuire à l’Homme au sens humaniste du terme.
Notre sculpture tente, de par les symboles intégrés, à mener un discours qui prêche à l’amour, la convivialité, mais aussi à la quête du « soi », du coté purement humain, et ce pour la naissance d’une seule unité parlant la langue de l’existence sereine.
La sculpture se présente en un ensemble de 5 têtes ou pour mieux dire ; 5 cris qui peuvent être les cris des 5 continents, à coté de chacun se place une petite sphère, comme symbole du « soi », ce qui mène à dire en fin de compte, qu’il s’agit plutôt de la révolte de l’ « Ego » et la quête du « soi » sain, longtemps enveloppé par les aléas d’une insociable sociabilité due à l’omission du fait que nous sommes, avant tout, des humains.
Une quête individuelle, mais passible d’être universelle par une simple volonté sincère de convivialité et d’amour. Peut-être que de cette manière les petites sphères se réuniront pour donner naissance à une seule valeur, grande et suprême, celle qui doit régir notre existence, dépassant les frontières imaginaires culturelles, ethniques, religieuses…pour donner naissance… à la paix, comme réalité concrète et pas un simple rêve, quelle qualification saugrenue ! Puisqu’on ne cesse de la répéter sans se rendre compte que l’incubateur de ce « rêve » existe au plus profond de chacun de nous.
Abdellatif FARHATE
Imad SANOUNI
Hassan KRIFA
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Je vous recommande la lecture de l'article suivant concernant l'exécution de l'ancien président de l'Irak, Saddam Hussein. Finalement, qui est le perdant? La mort de Saddam a plutôt accéléré un processus d'incarcération et d'interrogation qui aurait été de loin plus pénible à long terme, et plus fructueux à divers niveaux. Sa mort a fait disparaître à jamais les informations qu'il détenait sur le massacre de centaines de milliers d'irakiens, ainsi que sur ses liens avec les puissances américaine, anglaise, française et autres durant les années 80 et même durant les années de sanctions envers le peuple Irakien. La mémoire, les innombrables victimes irakiennes depuis des décennies à ce jour, la justice, les Droits Humains et bien sûr, l'Irak... Voici les vrais perdants dans toute cette histoire! Encore une fois, on aurait fait taire la vérité et les bourreaux auraient gagné. Pourquoi? Parce qu'elle serait trop compromettante...
Saddam, a rope, and a great escape
By Michael Young
Daily Star staff
Thursday, January 04, 2007
The trouble with Saddam Hussein's execution was that, in its sordidness, it was a fitting finale for an aging despot who once dispatched tens of thousands of people in a like manner; but it was also unfortunate for what was demanded of that particular Iraqi moment. In recent days, there has been outrage against the way Saddam was hanged. Much offense was taken from the fact that in his final moments he had to endure the insults of onlookers. Something more solemn was apparently required, so the putting to death would look like a meaningful sacrifice rather than a squalid settling of scores. Near the end, someone in the room declared: "Long live Mohammad Baqer al-Sadr." It seemed suitable that that name would come up - the name of the founder of the Daawa party, whom Saddam had ordered murdered in spring 1980, along with his sister, the pious Bint al-Huda. His killing was a fundamental moment in the Iraqi leader's unremitting struggle to ward off the Tikriti regime's Shiite nemesis. As fate would have it, those Shiites for whom Saddam had displayed such contempt were the ones dropping him into the pit, on the orders of Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki, an official of Daawa.
There was also much commotion about the timing and haste of the execution. Saddam was hanged on Eid al-Adha, transgressing Iraqi law; the trapdoor was opened while he was in the middle of a sentence bearing witness that Mohammad was God's Prophet; and so forth. The imagery was unsettling, but the criticism missed the point. For a man who had ordered the bombing or plundering of myriad holy sites, whose intelligence services had murdered thousands of prisoners in their cells just to make more room for new ones, whose soldiers had slaughtered with unflinching barbarism hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children, the hangman's rope was almost too polite a way to go - more than Saddam deserved. But it is not Saddam who should be the issue here; it is those who were cheated by his abrupt elimination.
It is the Kurds, who never got to see Saddam offer more details on the successive, genocidal Anfal campaigns of 1988. It is the Shiites, who were crushed after rising up against the Baathists in 1991 upon the advice of President George H.W. Bush, that tedious ghoul of political realism who must have been as surprised as anybody when the Iraqis took him seriously. It is the countless others, of all religions and sects, whose sons, daughters, siblings or parents ended up in Saddam's archipelago of prisons, detention centers, intelligence headquarters and torture chambers, to be beaten, raped, maimed or exterminated. To think of Saddam, to focus on his final moments of distress when there are so many others to think about, is almost obscene. But then there is the silence.
In the introduction to his book "Cruelty and Silence," the Iraqi author Kanan Makiya wrote: "If cruelty is individual, then silence is collective ... Breaking the silence as a way of dealing with the legacy of cruelty is thus necessarily a collective act." Saddam's execution has reimposed a measure of silence, when his trial was supposed to serve precisely the opposite end. And where there is silence there is the perpetuation of the individualization of cruelty: At the very moment when his neck snapped, Saddam's crimes were again his own; no longer Iraq's.
The trouble with Saddam Hussein's execution was that, in its sordidness, it was a fitting finale for an aging despot who once dispatched tens of thousands of people in a like manner; but it was also unfortunate for what was demanded of that particular Iraqi moment. In recent days, there has been outrage against the way Saddam was hanged. Much offense was taken from the fact that in his final moments he had to endure the insults of onlookers. Something more solemn was apparently required, so the putting to death would look like a meaningful sacrifice rather than a squalid settling of scores. Near the end, someone in the room declared: "Long live Mohammad Baqer al-Sadr." It seemed suitable that that name would come up - the name of the founder of the Daawa party, whom Saddam had ordered murdered in spring 1980, along with his sister, the pious Bint al-Huda. His killing was a fundamental moment in the Iraqi leader's unremitting struggle to ward off the Tikriti regime's Shiite nemesis. As fate would have it, those Shiites for whom Saddam had displayed such contempt were the ones dropping him into the pit, on the orders of Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki, an official of Daawa.
There was also much commotion about the timing and haste of the execution. Saddam was hanged on Eid al-Adha, transgressing Iraqi law; the trapdoor was opened while he was in the middle of a sentence bearing witness that Mohammad was God's Prophet; and so forth. The imagery was unsettling, but the criticism missed the point. For a man who had ordered the bombing or plundering of myriad holy sites, whose intelligence services had murdered thousands of prisoners in their cells just to make more room for new ones, whose soldiers had slaughtered with unflinching barbarism hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children, the hangman's rope was almost too polite a way to go - more than Saddam deserved. But it is not Saddam who should be the issue here; it is those who were cheated by his abrupt elimination.
It is the Kurds, who never got to see Saddam offer more details on the successive, genocidal Anfal campaigns of 1988. It is the Shiites, who were crushed after rising up against the Baathists in 1991 upon the advice of President George H.W. Bush, that tedious ghoul of political realism who must have been as surprised as anybody when the Iraqis took him seriously. It is the countless others, of all religions and sects, whose sons, daughters, siblings or parents ended up in Saddam's archipelago of prisons, detention centers, intelligence headquarters and torture chambers, to be beaten, raped, maimed or exterminated. To think of Saddam, to focus on his final moments of distress when there are so many others to think about, is almost obscene. But then there is the silence.
In the introduction to his book "Cruelty and Silence," the Iraqi author Kanan Makiya wrote: "If cruelty is individual, then silence is collective ... Breaking the silence as a way of dealing with the legacy of cruelty is thus necessarily a collective act." Saddam's execution has reimposed a measure of silence, when his trial was supposed to serve precisely the opposite end. And where there is silence there is the perpetuation of the individualization of cruelty: At the very moment when his neck snapped, Saddam's crimes were again his own; no longer Iraq's.
In fact, Makiya's phrase was less abstract. He was talking specifically about the silence of Arab intellectuals when it came to confronting the brutality of Saddam's rule. For far too many in the region, the Iraqi leader became an embodiment of Arab greatness, pride and resilience. That such an attitude only exposed the Arab world's pathologies went unheeded. Saddam, whose understanding of power meant a careful manipulation of its symbols, saw that the essence of absolute leadership was the tyrant's ability to transform himself into a harsh father. Pitilessness could transform rare mercy into a magnificent favor. The flipside of existential fear is irrational love, and like Stalin, Saddam was loved most by those who feared him most. This is the essence of cowardliness.
One could excuse that phenomenon among the Iraqis, whose lives were in constant danger under the Baathists. But what justified the reaction of so many Arabs outside Iraq, who could never work up indignation over the regime's crimes yet now stand jowls trembling in condemnation of Saddam's hanging? Forgive the Palestinians their suffering, but weren't the victims of Israeli repression in a better position than most to ponder Saddam's savagery when accepting his compensation money for suicide bombings? Grant Arab intellectuals a dearth of heroes, but what kind of person shuffles into Baghdad on a dictator's expense account while free-minded Iraqis are being forcibly silenced? Spare a kind thought for the disillusioned purveyors of Arab solidarity, but can you explain why that solidarity was largely absent when the Iraqis overran Kuwait?
Makiya was right: The silence surrounding Saddam was collective, and it was far more striking than the ejaculations of resentment that on a daily basis are directed against the botched American adventure in Iraq. During the war against Iran, during Anfal, during the Shiite intifada, during the years of sanctions - sanctions that Saddam used to consolidate his own power by deepening the suffering of his people - the Arab world remained silent. Those were the years of Syrian-Iraqi reconciliation; of rapprochement between the Gulf states and Baghdad; of French, Russian and Chinese greed for Iraqi oil contracts. Had Saddam not been chased into a hole by a foreign army, he would still be tormenting his people, dusting his throne so that one of his homicidal sons might succeed him.
Saddam's execution was a lost opportunity for human rights in Iraq and the Arab world. I admit to taking much more satisfaction in seeing a despot corroding in a cell than being granted the freedom of a brisk death. Nor do I find that the death penalty has in any way ever dispensed "justice." But as we throw our two cents' worth into determining whether hanging was a worthy ending for Saddam, we would do better to disregard the monster and, instead, pay homage to the monster's victims.
Michael Young is opinion editor of THE DAILY STAR.
One could excuse that phenomenon among the Iraqis, whose lives were in constant danger under the Baathists. But what justified the reaction of so many Arabs outside Iraq, who could never work up indignation over the regime's crimes yet now stand jowls trembling in condemnation of Saddam's hanging? Forgive the Palestinians their suffering, but weren't the victims of Israeli repression in a better position than most to ponder Saddam's savagery when accepting his compensation money for suicide bombings? Grant Arab intellectuals a dearth of heroes, but what kind of person shuffles into Baghdad on a dictator's expense account while free-minded Iraqis are being forcibly silenced? Spare a kind thought for the disillusioned purveyors of Arab solidarity, but can you explain why that solidarity was largely absent when the Iraqis overran Kuwait?
Makiya was right: The silence surrounding Saddam was collective, and it was far more striking than the ejaculations of resentment that on a daily basis are directed against the botched American adventure in Iraq. During the war against Iran, during Anfal, during the Shiite intifada, during the years of sanctions - sanctions that Saddam used to consolidate his own power by deepening the suffering of his people - the Arab world remained silent. Those were the years of Syrian-Iraqi reconciliation; of rapprochement between the Gulf states and Baghdad; of French, Russian and Chinese greed for Iraqi oil contracts. Had Saddam not been chased into a hole by a foreign army, he would still be tormenting his people, dusting his throne so that one of his homicidal sons might succeed him.
Saddam's execution was a lost opportunity for human rights in Iraq and the Arab world. I admit to taking much more satisfaction in seeing a despot corroding in a cell than being granted the freedom of a brisk death. Nor do I find that the death penalty has in any way ever dispensed "justice." But as we throw our two cents' worth into determining whether hanging was a worthy ending for Saddam, we would do better to disregard the monster and, instead, pay homage to the monster's victims.
Michael Young is opinion editor of THE DAILY STAR.
8 comments:
Merci Pamela pour ces beaux textes d'une si grande profondeur. Puisse cette nouvelle année apporter non seulement plus de tolérance entre les factions politiques du pays, mais aussi plus de confiance réciproque et un désir commun de coexistence pacifique.
Wassim
Michèle's text reveals the particularity of most Lebanese: dealing with the wind of change!
Sarah (Beirut)
Check out the 'Gandhi Institute for Nonviolence':
http://www.gandhiinstitute.org/
“ The difference between what we do and what we are capable of doing, would suffice to solve most of the world's problems... ” ~M.K.Gandhi
G.K. (Montreal)
Pamela,
Merci de partager ces beaux textes avec nous. En 2007, si seulement une phrase de l'un ou l'autre de ces texte s'incarnait, ce serait déjà un très grand pas d'accompli pour l'humanité.
André.
P.S.:
J'essayerai de rencontrer ces sculpteurs marocains, lorsqu'ils seront de passage à Québec.
Indeed, the swift execution of Saddam "following a flawed trial" as Kamel Labidi says (The Daily Star, Wednesday, January 3, 2007) undermined a genuine national reconciliation. Furthermore, a real opportunity to promote Human Rights in the region was lost.
"The timing of the hanging was meant to humiliate not only Saddam, his relatives, and followers, but also millions of Muslims everywhere in the world. Many Muslims never had the slightest respect for him before the illegal occupation of Iraq. But the use of lies to justify the invasion and the unprecedented chaos, insecurity and suffering the invasion prompted, and the dignified way in which the former dictator faced his jailers and executioners improved his image, even among his former enemies. The biggest mistake was the timing of the execution. It came at the dawn of the Muslim feast of Adha, which is aimed at raising awareness about the sanctity of human life. The execution was apparently planned as a humiliation to Iraqi Sunnis and as a "gift" to Shiites on the occasion of the Muslim feast. Those responsible seemed to have forgotten that the act would only spur more acts of vengeance common in Iraq's recent history, which might target them one day or another" (Kamel Labidi)
L.
Je viens de lire un article pour Alexandre Najjar dans L'Orient Littéraire du 4 janvier 2007 sur la peine de mort, et dont les propos (ci-dessous quelques extraits) rejoignent les miens:
"La mise à mort de Saddam Hussein constitue l'une des plus grandes erreurs de l'histoire contemporaine (...). Transformer Saddam en martyr est une faute de plus dans la liste déjà longue des bévues commises par l'Oncle Sam dans le bourbier irakien. En outre, une telle mesure ne fait que ternir l'image déjà peu reluisante de la démocratie en Amérique [au sein de laquelle]plusieurs États continuent d'appliquer la peine de mort (...). Victor Hugo l'a bien dit: 'La peine de mort est le signe spécial et éternel de la barbarie (...)'. Tuer Saddam, c'est répondre au crime par le crime, c'est se placer au même niveau que ces assassins qui, chaque jour, sèment le chaos et la mort dans les rues de Bagdad, c'est cautionner les exécutions sommaires commises ici et là par les dictateurs et terroristes de tous poils, c'est renier les enseignements de cette religion dont se réclame abusivement M. Bush pour justifier sa 'croisade' contre l'Axe du mal... Ces considérations faites, force est de reconnaître que nous sommes mal placés pour donner des leçons en la matière: au Liban, la peine de mort n'a pas encore été abolie. Et si nul ne s'en émeut, c'est sans doute parce que le pays lui-même est, à cause d'un groupe d'illuminés, constamment menacé de mort. N'est-il pas grand temps de commencer à balayer devant notre porte?"
salut Pamela
je vous remercie vivement pour le travail humaniste que vous faites.
je suis l'un des membres de l'equipe des sculpteurs marocains qui "participera" au carnaval de Québec.notre équipe vient aujourd'hui de recevoir une réponse inattendue concernant le visa; c'était un refus insensé,c'est bien dommage, car l'ambassadeur s'est reféré dans cette option à ses stéreotypes personnels, sachant que de cette manière le continent africain et le monde arabe en général ont été supprimés de ce carnaval, car on était le seul représentant de l'Afrique et du monde arabe, et sachant aussi que notre sujet est purement humanitaire.merci Pamela.moi c Imad SANOUNI.
sanounimad@hotmail.com
Chers Imad et Kalamour, je suis sincèrement désolée pour le refus de votre visa.
Voir mon billet de la semaine du 15-21 janvier 2007 ('A tous ces Libanais qui émigrent...'), dans la section des commentaires: je parle de votre cas.
Courage!
En solidarité,
Pamela
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