En los cuarenta y tres años que llevo viviendo en México, puedo contar con los dedos de una mano el número de veces que he escuchado a un mexicano hablar bien de su país. La euforia generalizada que se desata cuando México logra figurar a nivel mundial, sin importar la relevancia del logro (un Miss Universo o un Premio Nobel de la Literatura, todo es igual acá), es igualada durante los momentos de locura pasional como las fiestas patrias o durante un partido de futbol--pero son momentos pasajeros, que nunca llenan el buche de los ciudadanos sedientos de parar el cuello con algo mexicano, algo bien hecho, algo positivamente destacable. Son momentos lubricados por el alcohol. Son momentos en que podemos fingir que algo tuvimos que ver en la carga genética que conformó cuerpo y cara de una Miss Universo, o en la inusual genialidad de un pensador y escritor fuera de serie.
Los mexicanos no sólo son depresivos, una observación atinada de Octavio Paz; lo son porque el mexicano suele ser un idealista desilusionado, una fuente inagotable de amargura, chistes en contra de sí mismo o de su país, de críticas ácidas o de una burla autodirigida. Bajo el pretexto de "todo está mal, no hay nada que hacer, es inútil intentar", se tira el mexicano a la indiferencia, a la flojera social e intelectual, o, en cambio, a la arrogancia de unos minúsculos logros personales como la riqueza o lo que en este país pasa por ser intelectual, con tal de contrapesar la indescriptiblemente triste destino de vivir en México. Cualquier rumor negativo, generalmente sin fundamento, se pasa gozoso de ciudadano en ciudadano, sin que nadie pare un instante por pensar en las secuelas más amplias, en la abrumadora negatividad que el país carga, gracias a tales actitudes ciudadanas. Lo que está mal ahora, siempre estará mal, lo de antaño era mejor o, al contrario, lo anterior es la causa de todos nuestros males actuales, y nada tiene remedio nunca.
Con la infección rampante de ignorancia voluntaria que padecemos--y ¿por qué no, ya que nada tiene remedio?--nos parecemos a la bola de lunáticos gringos autodenominados Tea Party, que hacen de su abismal ignorancia una virtud. Pero la flojera intelectual que invade a México tiene un costo terrorífico: como no nos gusta pensar, cada "remedio" es un refrito de algo de no funcionó, no analizamos los eventos, no nos gusta plantear preguntas, y cada opinión es un disparo intantáneo valorada más bien por su graciosidad o ingenio humorístico. Es tan grave que una opinión positiva de algo mexicano, sobre todo de una figura política, es inmediatamente atacada--porque al mexicano, nada le da más pánico que pecar de ingenuo, de ser transado, y por ende, es fácilmente engañado con cualquier rumor absurdo, cualquier onda religiosa loca, que defenderá hasta la muerte porque de no hacerlo, se revelará equivocado--sinónimo de pendejo. El mexicano no sabe equivocarse como otro mortal y disculparse; cada error atenta contra la integridad de su alma. Lo que esto implica en cuanto a los métodos de educar a los niños pequeños es apabullante, para que éstos produzcan a personas tan temerosas de su humanidad.
Claro, nos pasamos alabando a las culturas indígenas, mismas que producen hermosas artensanías y pésimos avances sociales. Pero es puro jarabe de pico. México, que no tiene prejucios racistas, sí cuenta con un clasismo tan agresivo y dañino como el más arraigado racismo. El bajito, el morenito, el indito forman parte de las clases de los rechazados, mientras que las mujeres mexicanos se la pasan tiñiendo su pelo de rubio y creyendo que así se ven bien.
Cuando echamos mentadas de la antepasada materna a la clase política, habría que ver que tenemos la clase política que merecemos. Cuando nos volvemos histéricos ante la inseguridad, habría que pensar que nosotros somos la causa--no el PRI, no la partidocracia, no un vago e indefinido concepto de "corrupción". La corrupción lo somos todos.
Ni nos molestamos en pensar pausadamente, ni podemos sostener una conversación incluyente de opiniones diferentes. Por lo mismo, no llegamos a la acción productiva porque no hemos aprendido a liderear ni a coordinarnos, bola de divas que somos. La clase política es nuestro fiel reflejo.
Tenemos el México que merecemos. Lo que merece México son mejores ciudadanos.
miércoles, 25 de agosto de 2010
jueves, 19 de agosto de 2010
Let me loosen your Bible belt...
At the moment I am immersed in the so-called Bible belt: Lubbock, Texas, to be more exact.
There seem to be two kinds of inhabitants in this Bible-thumping town, but symptoms of both kinds can be found in places like Barnes & Noble. There is shelf after shelf devoted to topics such as Christian Inspirational or Christianity, Romance novels, and popular fiction, and a paultry few spots left over for philosophy, poetry, or social sciences--although several of the books in that section barely qualify. The popular has invaded the academic.
One type of Bible-belt inhabitant is the friendly, kind, extremely polite individual who assumes you too are one of God's little chilluns and deserving of respect and consideration. More power to them, even if one does get a little tired of hearing how God intervenes in everything from choice of occupation to the selection of tonight's menu. These are often people who have suffered greatly but are getting by, yes, with God's help. They would no more insult you because of your skin color or accent than they would murder their children, and their brand of Christianity is often all-inclusive. Even though you might think their religion is simplistic, it so happens that the portions of the Bible they have chosen to honor are those which promote brotherly love and doing good. They don't love only certain brothers with the right pedigree and their definition of doing good includes doing no harm.
The other kind is very different indeedy. They are not rednecks, either--and just for the record, a redneck is someone who works under the sun and gets sunburned. There is nothing inferior about farmers and cowboys or construction workers, either, for that matter, and redneck should be removed from the list of insults. To be called a redneck is tantamount to "ignorant fathead", and this is supremely unfair.
But "ignorant fathead" is the mildest term that can be applied to the ranting, hate-filled, loud-mouthed "Christians" who have picked the worst portions of the collection of myths, hopes, distorted history, and metaphors called the Bible. Their best proponents are people like Dubya and Sarah Palin, who are aggressively ignorant (to a degree that you cannot distinguish between ignorance and genuine stupidity). It is easier to blow off the truly pathological such as Beck and Limbaugh because their pathology is so blatant that they are simple conduits for frustrations and self-loathing that can more easily be projected onto minorities, Muslims, illegal immigrants, and whoever else you think is causing your home-grown ills. Unfortunately, these specimens, acting as conduits, make it seem legitimate to be mad as hatters and dumber than plant life. They make it seem "logical" that you are a victim of everything and everyone, but many of their listeners hold the secret suspicion that they are whiners, allowing the listening public to indulge for a moment that greatest of all sins, being a wimp, a victim, but only for a while...
The Palin-Dubya kind of terminal ignorance is put forth not as the shameful evolutionary defect it is, but as a virtue. Devoid of any information, they fall back on pure visceral appeal, as if one's guts had some kind of obscure knowledge that trumps the brain. In their case, indeed it does. The degree of intellectual laziness boggles the mind of those of us out here who still use ours to some extent. The upshot is that Dubya has been nothing more than the paid-for whore of monied interests, and Palin has made herself into the darling of the Pee Party set, another group of the postally disgruntled.
But why is this surprising? It should not be. For those of you interested and functional enough to read, try "Bright-Sided" for a good dose of uncommon sense. For more entertaining braininess, read "Packing for Mars", and don't miss "The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks". All of these books are by very smart women, and hints of an explanation can be found in all. Good luck.
There seem to be two kinds of inhabitants in this Bible-thumping town, but symptoms of both kinds can be found in places like Barnes & Noble. There is shelf after shelf devoted to topics such as Christian Inspirational or Christianity, Romance novels, and popular fiction, and a paultry few spots left over for philosophy, poetry, or social sciences--although several of the books in that section barely qualify. The popular has invaded the academic.
One type of Bible-belt inhabitant is the friendly, kind, extremely polite individual who assumes you too are one of God's little chilluns and deserving of respect and consideration. More power to them, even if one does get a little tired of hearing how God intervenes in everything from choice of occupation to the selection of tonight's menu. These are often people who have suffered greatly but are getting by, yes, with God's help. They would no more insult you because of your skin color or accent than they would murder their children, and their brand of Christianity is often all-inclusive. Even though you might think their religion is simplistic, it so happens that the portions of the Bible they have chosen to honor are those which promote brotherly love and doing good. They don't love only certain brothers with the right pedigree and their definition of doing good includes doing no harm.
The other kind is very different indeedy. They are not rednecks, either--and just for the record, a redneck is someone who works under the sun and gets sunburned. There is nothing inferior about farmers and cowboys or construction workers, either, for that matter, and redneck should be removed from the list of insults. To be called a redneck is tantamount to "ignorant fathead", and this is supremely unfair.
But "ignorant fathead" is the mildest term that can be applied to the ranting, hate-filled, loud-mouthed "Christians" who have picked the worst portions of the collection of myths, hopes, distorted history, and metaphors called the Bible. Their best proponents are people like Dubya and Sarah Palin, who are aggressively ignorant (to a degree that you cannot distinguish between ignorance and genuine stupidity). It is easier to blow off the truly pathological such as Beck and Limbaugh because their pathology is so blatant that they are simple conduits for frustrations and self-loathing that can more easily be projected onto minorities, Muslims, illegal immigrants, and whoever else you think is causing your home-grown ills. Unfortunately, these specimens, acting as conduits, make it seem legitimate to be mad as hatters and dumber than plant life. They make it seem "logical" that you are a victim of everything and everyone, but many of their listeners hold the secret suspicion that they are whiners, allowing the listening public to indulge for a moment that greatest of all sins, being a wimp, a victim, but only for a while...
The Palin-Dubya kind of terminal ignorance is put forth not as the shameful evolutionary defect it is, but as a virtue. Devoid of any information, they fall back on pure visceral appeal, as if one's guts had some kind of obscure knowledge that trumps the brain. In their case, indeed it does. The degree of intellectual laziness boggles the mind of those of us out here who still use ours to some extent. The upshot is that Dubya has been nothing more than the paid-for whore of monied interests, and Palin has made herself into the darling of the Pee Party set, another group of the postally disgruntled.
But why is this surprising? It should not be. For those of you interested and functional enough to read, try "Bright-Sided" for a good dose of uncommon sense. For more entertaining braininess, read "Packing for Mars", and don't miss "The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks". All of these books are by very smart women, and hints of an explanation can be found in all. Good luck.
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