Last Seen Blogs
Text
It may come off as harsh, but I have grown really weary of individuals who lack strong opinions.
This phenomenon feels particularly prevalent in politics (and politics is what is inspiring this particular train of thought), although I believe it extends across the board. One of the gravest assumptions people make in shaping their worldview is that the most valid stance taken must reside somewhere in the middle. For example attempting to find a compromise between opposing political ideologies.
This assumption is flawed. It falls into the trap of the middle ground fallacy. The correct position isn't necessarily equidistant between extremes. If one extreme suggests drinking a litre of bleach daily for strong bones and the other advises drinking none daily for strong bones, the middle ground of drinking half a litre isn't the most sensible option now, is it?
Equally frustrating is the suppression of differing opinions or the tendency to attack those who hold them. This issue extends beyond politics and encompasses areas like art and personal relationships. It often feels taboo to critically engage with topics or individuals we admire, including acknowledging aspects we find troubling.
Constructive discourse would flourish if we recognised that it's possible to appreciate something while also scrutinising it when necessary. I recognise how pretentious this sounds, but I wish people would take more time to reflect on their desires, interests, curiosities and how they can improve and enrich their lives. I'm exhausted by the silence and lack of substantive opinions. Selfishly, it is because I have no outlet for expressing my own thoughts, and consequently, these thoughts swirl incessantly in my mind, creating a dissonance I literally can't escape.
#politics#art#personal relationships#critical thinking#opinions#I don't know what this is#I wrote it in 5 minutes because everything is boring me#i hate doing tags
1 note
·
View note
Text
A speech made at the Academy Awards by Jonathan Glazer, along with the subsequent reactions, sheds light on how people tend to distort others' words to portray themselves as victims and, more concerning, their willingness to reside in a dystopian bubble as long as it doesn't affect them directly.
Rather than idolising Hollywood, I've previously posted about the complexities of my evolving parasocial relationships. But to disregard the influence wielded by these elites would be naive. It's frustrating to witness those in power facing backlash when they attempt to bring attention to pertinent issues.
While the Oscars' prominence in Western pop culture is waning, the ceremony and the fervour surrounding the nominees and winners, especially in the major acting categories, still hold significant sway in film culture and the broader world.
So when such a speech is delivered at the Oscars, it's bound to garner attention:
All our choices were made to reflect and confront us in the present — not to say, “Look what they did then,” rather, “Look what we do now.” Our film shows where dehumanization leads, at its worst. It shaped all of our past and present. Right now we stand here as men who refute their Jewishness and the Holocaust being hijacked by an occupation, which has led to conflict for so many innocent people. Whether the victims of October the — [Applause.] Whether the victims of October the 7th in Israel or the ongoing attack on Gaza, all the victims of this dehumanization, how do we resist? [Applause.] Aleksandra Bystroń-Kołodziejczyk, the girl who glows in the film, as she did in life, chose to. I dedicate this to her memory and her resistance. Thank you.
Glazer highlighted in his speech that victims of the ongoing situation and the last 75 years, whether Palestinian and Israeli, all stem from the occupation and are casualties of entrenched ideologies like Zionism. But when he said this on stage and was immediately misquoted online on social media and by reputable news sources, alleging that he simply renounced his Jewish identity.
He also faced considerable backlash from those indicating a persistent conflation of anti-Zionism with anti-Semitism. It really parallels previous speeches of resistance at the Oscars. Boos rang loud and clear during Michael Moore's opposition to the Iraq war (which we know was a colossal failure by Geroge Bush and the US Government who perpetuated and pardoned multiple war crimes in the region after lying to their own people about evidence of weapons of mass destruction).
youtube
There was also Sacheen Littlefeather's advocacy for Native American representation and the direct of attention to the Wounded Knee Occupation, a speech that had bodyguards having to restrain people from getting on the stage and attacking her.
youtube
And, of course, Vanessa Redgrave's aim at “a small bunch of Zionist hoodlums whose behaviour is an insult to the stature of Jews all over the world and to their great and heroic record of struggle against fascism and oppression”, which still feels relevant today.
youtube
Turning to Glazer's film, I am baffled at those who vehemently objected to it: Did they actually watch it? Because if they had any negative feelings towards Glazer's speech, especially after watching his film, it suggests, to me, a deficiency in critical thinking.
Glazer's film portrays a chilling atmosphere where genocide becomes normalised, echoing real-world situations like the ongoing conflict in Gaza. The film serves as a stark reminder of humanity's ability to coexist with atrocities, often turning a blind eye for the sake of comfort.
The horrors adjacent to the characters' lives evoke contemporary parallels, particularly in regions like Gaza. With over five months of relentless violence, Israel's defiance of international court orders, and Western governments passively reprimanding while fueling the conflict with arms shipments, the spectre of genocide looms ominously. It risks becoming a mundane backdrop to daily existence. It is a stark portrayal of how affluent lifestyles can be linked to neighbouring atrocities, challenging the notion of denial and complicity.
The film doesn't centre around the Holocaust (Glazer's own words), with its specific historical context. Instead, it delves into a more universal theme: humanity's ability to coexist with atrocities and even derive some form of reconciliation or gain from them. The discomforting reflections are on purpose. It prompts us to acknowledge that the threat of annihilation of any people is always closer than we might imagine.
One of the most poignant moments in the film occurs when a package filled with clothing and lingerie pilfered from the prisoners of the camp arrives at the Höss household. The commandant's wife decides that everyone, including the servants, can select one item. She claims a coat for herself and trys on makeup discovered in one of its pockets.
How can the people who are so staunch against Glazer not draw parallels with Israeli soldiers who have recorded themselves rummaging through the lingerie of Palestinian women and slut shaming them? (Why are Israeli soldiers obsessed with Gaza women's underwear?) Or proudly displaying stolen shoes and jewellery for their partners back home (Israeli soldier loots Palestinian homes for his engagement party). Or celebrating International Women's Day with a photo of women soldiers posing for selfies against the backdrop of destruction (How an AP photographer made this image of Israeli soldiers taking a selfie at the Gaza border).
The film is rife with these parallels that it feels like a documentary. It is a grim reality: the potential emergence of the first live-streamed genocide, captured by its very architects.
Gaza doesn't mirror the systematic mass murder machinery of Auschwitz, nor does it approach the scale of Nazi atrocities. However, the entire purpose behind establishing the postwar framework of international humanitarian law was to equip us with the means to collectively recognise practices before history repeats itself on a large scale. And disturbingly, some of these practices – such as the construction of walls, creation of ghettos, mass killings, openly stated intentions of elimination, widespread starvation, plundering, gleeful dehumanisation, and deliberate humiliation – are recurring. And have been long before October 7th.
How do we disrupt the cycle of trivialisation and normalisation? What actions can we take? There are persistent protests and acts of civil disobedience to "uncommitted" votes, disrupting events, organising aid convoys, fundraising for refugees, and creating radical works of art.
And as genocide fades further into the background of our culture, some people grow too desperate for any of these efforts. I am certainly one of them.
Yet, these efforts seem insufficient, particularly when those in positions of power remain indifferent. It's insufficient when I watch a video of a little girl saying that the violence has made her feel less beautiful before she talks about her father being kidnapped by Israeli soldiers or of the orphans visiting their mother's burial spot in the street. It is insufficient when the death toll rises to exceed the daily death toll of any other major conflict of the 21st century.
Perhaps it's unfair of me to prioritise one tragedy over another, given the multitude of suffering in the world – the ones that are in the news cycle and the ones that are not. Yet, my connection to Palestine and its plight feels as personal as it can be without me actually being Palestinian, fostered from childhood teachings and further enriched through my own research. I have loved ones directly impacted by this conflict: friends in the diaspora grappling with survivor's guilt, friends in the West Bank enduring the daily hardships of occupation. And my friends in Gaza are all either dead, dying or being pushed straight into the arms of death.
The realisation that my efforts to help them are insufficient fills me with frustration. I'm angered by the indifference of those in power and by the hostility encountered by those attempting to bring the truth to the forefront.
#palestine#free palestine#gaza#anti zionisim#academy awards#oscars#jonathan glazer#the zone of interest#geopolitics#politics#i hate doing tags#Youtube
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
The current discourse surrounding the cost of living crisis seems somewhat incomplete to me.
When it comes up in the media or in discussions around me, it is consistently framed in terms of individuals' financial constraints, addressing what people can or cannot afford. I am not disputing that at all; that perspective is undeniably valid. In fact, I would argue that livable wages, affordable housing and rental control, neighbourhood resources, adequate public transit, high-quality education and efficient and productive health services are all very prevalent issues that fall under public safety.
But aside from all of that, when thinking about the cost of living crisis, I find myself asking: Why must we pay for everything in the first place?
Today, I read this article highlighting local repair shops evolving into community hubs for free assistance in fixing gadgets and clothing. It prompted reflections on a bygone era when reciprocity thrived in communities, emphasising mutual aid rather than profit.
The individuals interviewed in the article are far from being revolutionary figures. Their actions echo sentiments reminiscent of historical resistors of industrialisation, like the Luddites (a word I learned from an English professor I hated) from the 19th century. Their resistance took various forms, some violent, but it takes one Google Scholar search to show that many chose to assert the mentality of: 'I do not need your money as desperately as you think, for I have systems of kinship outside this monetised economy.' The viewpoint of acknowledging that while currency is nice to have and it provides things, it really does not meet the majority of my needs right now is one that I am newly trying to adopt every single day.
For me it's about starting small. I constantly think about that one viral Tumblr post about the commodification of friendship. It says:
the commodification of friendship is the most annoying thing to come out of the internet in ages. like actually i love to break this to you but you’re supposed to help your friends move even if it’s hard work. or stay up with them when they’re sad even if you’re gonna lose sleep. you’re supposed to listen to their fears and sorrows even if it means your own mind takes on a little bit of that weight. that’s how you know that you care. they will drive you to the airport and then you will make them soup when they’re sick. you’re supposed to make small sacrifices for them and they are supposed to do that for you. and there’s actually gonna be rough patches for both of you where the balance will be uneven and you will still be friends and it will not be unhealthy and they will not be abusive. life is not meant to be an endless prioritization of our own comfort if it was we would literally never get anywhere ever. jesus.
No, it isn't talking about the cost of living crisis, per se, but I like that the writer has specified how important community is and how yes, it may be unbalanced at times, and you won't gain from it monetarily, but that's OK. I'm constantly trying to remind myself that the human experience should be about giving. And I try. With my family. My friends. And in my community.
And so back to the main point: Does a significant portion of the cost of living crisis lies not just in our inability to afford things but in the imperative to afford everything. The issue transcends high prices; it's about the pervasive commodification of all aspects of life. It's about everything having a cost to begin with: whether that is physical items (like the things people were working on in repair shops) or emotional support (commodification of friendship). Capitalist logic has infiltrated to such an extent that almost everything is now part of a monetised economy. That's just so lame to me and not a trap I want to fall into.
#cost of living#cost of living crisis#commodification#commodification of friendship#community#capitalism#anti capatilism#i hate doing tags
1 note
·
View note
Text
Rishi Sunak's speech yesterday about the need to "protect democracy" is incredibly rich coming from an unelected PM, and it proves the closeness we are to despotism.
I am speaking from someone who partly grew up under a dictatorship. In some ways, I actually think that we're entering an even scarier era. Where I was growing up, at least officials were open about their regime. Yes, they made their people suffer greatly. But they did it openly. Still very horrible, but fascism under the disguise of democracy is, in my mind, more dangerous. And so very near.
Sunak's speech, filled with falsities, continued what his government have parroted ever since October in reaction to what is happening in Israel and Palestine. And that is the broadening of the definition of extremism to encompass dissenting voices, potentially criminalising those opposing political and financial support for Israel. That's not an exaggeration. Sunak said as much in his rambling speech.
A ceasefire should be the minimum expectation, yet leaders of the 'free world' can't even support that. If we lived in a just world, we'd have sanctions, trials and prosecutions. We'd have an end of diplomatic ties and an end of the occupation. We'd have war reparations, restoration of land and a right of return for all Palestinians.
This week, we've witnessed the extreme act of protest in the form of self-immolation, which saw a US air force airman dousing himself in gasoline outside the Israeli embassy in Washington and lighting himself on fire. Days later, the IDF targeted Palestinians seeking aid and food after killing over 30,000 of them. It's very concerning that 24 hours after the most grotesque image of someone being bulldozed by a clearly labelled IDF tank went viral on social media, that was the statement Sunak chose to make.
And yes, his speech is in reaction to what is happening in the Middle East, but its implications go beyond. His words run deep even if the current situation was magically solved tomorrow. The very act of protesting is under threat, making his lecturing on division exploitation outside Downing Street hypocritical, considering that is the driving force behind his government. He is right. There is a group in the UK fostering extremism and threatening democratic freedoms – the Conservative Party led by him. Sunak's warnings about extremism would carry more weight if his tenure as prime minister hadn't consistently promoted it.
His speech also included an endorsement of Voter ID, disenfranchising thousands. You cannot claim to protect democracy by making it harder for people to vote. The man, who again became PM through clearing and without a public vote, also said that people voting for an MP he disagrees with is an attack on democracy. It's like we're living in a dystopian satire that not even the greatest writers of our time could imagine.
And Sunak's assertion that Britain has never been on the wrong side of history in his concluding remarks is particularly troubling, considering his background and lack of acknowledgement for his ancestors who endured colonial rule for nearly 90 years in British India.
The worst part? Sunak is just one of many. If he goes, there is someone next in line to replace him and crackdown even further.
It's like playing an endless game of whack-a-mole. You get rid of one, but another pops up, and then another and another and another until we all get sicker, poorer, and sadder and die.
#rishi sunak#democracy#gaza#palestine#geopolitics#protest#right to protest#i hate doing tags#writing this has made me miserable
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
I often think about the absence of parasocial relationships in my life. To be candid, I believed I had outgrown them. Celebrity culture is something that I have come to dislike a lot. I really try and refrain from investing excessive energy into one-sided and distant connections. We all have our moments every once in a while, though. Last night, I stayed up to watch Usher's halftime Super Bowl performance. I enjoyed it, sang along to my favourites, and that was that.
The gravity of current global events, particularly Gaza, really makes me reassess.
Amidst countless headlines celebrating the Chiefs and Taylor Swift's love life, my attention remains fixated on the bombing of Rafah by Israel. Rafah, a place where civilians were told would be safe was heavily targetted all the while Israel ran a propoganda ad during the biggest annual sporting event in America (newsflash: if you can afford to run ads like last night's during the biggest NFL weekend, then you're not the victim, sorry). The juxtaposition of reports from Gaza during a Super Bowl served as a stark reminder of the world's pressing issues.
I don't advocate for people to cease enjoying sports. That's lame and not realistic. But I urge us (myself included!) to scrutinise our relationships, especially parasocial ones. These one-sided relationships, where emotional energy, interest, time, and, worst of all, money are directed towards an entity that is unaware of the other's existence, permeate our society.
Adults may believe they are immune to such connections. But many still form strong bonds with sports teams, athletes, artists, actors, and online influencers. Adult men especially will make fun of teenage girls for their interests but have the same one-sided relationship with athletes and Twitch streamers. They are not free from it. None of us are. It's all the same. These relationships wield such influence over us as individuals, and they truly transcend age and gender boundaries. Addressing this issue requires a collective effort to de-emphasise or, ideally, render parasocial relationships unnecessary.
The dismantling of community structures has exacerbated this problem. The decline of social organisations, the lack of third places, the consequences of suburban living, and the increasing loneliness point to a broader societal issue. As our communal ties weaken, we not only experience individual isolation but also lose collective influence over our lives. Political and economic forces contribute to this isolation, making it challenging to resist gentrification and maintain connected communities.
How many of us constantly think about these systemic issues? I understand that this being at the forefront of our minds would be extremely exhausting, but we should at least be aware, no? Depoliticization and a plethora of distractions, from social media to celebrity culture, is really limiting us, as individuals and as a society. I am not sure if I am ready to go down the full conspiracy rabbit and say that these distractions are intentional political tools, but they do serve capitalists seeking profits from individuals seeking connection and fulfilment in the frankly very fucked up world we find ourselves in.
Substituting real relationships with parasocial ones may seem convenient, even momentarily fulfilling, in our current environment saturated with online connections. Yet, these connections prove to be shallow and hollow substitutes for genuine human connection, intimacy, and collective participation. On a personal level, it is time to intentionally prioritise meaningful relationships with neighbours, coworkers, family, and friends. On a communal level, we must build and rebuild structures and organisations that facilitate collective gatherings, fostering connections and consolidating our collective power for positive change.
As headlines continue to feature Taylor Swift, the Super Bowl, the Oscars, etc... I believe that there should be an urgency in redirecting our attention to critical issues, such as Gaza and the recent attack on Rafah. While transitioning from a world dominated by parasocial relationships to one marked by justice, connection, and peace may seem daunting, it starts with individual efforts – reaching out, engaging in one-on-one conversations, and building relationships. Over time, these personal connections will empower us to act collectively, contributing to a world where inter-connectedness and reciprocity prevail.
#gaza#palestine#rafah#super bowl#taylor swift#usher#celebrity culture#anti celebrity culture#anti capitalism#anti consumerism#anti consumption#parasocial relationships#i hate doing tags
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's going to be so interesting to see how the ICJ's recent ruling carries broader implications, impacting not only what is happening in Gaza but also influencing dynamics in global justice.
Unsurprisingly, Israel's stance towards the ICJ ruling has been dismissive. Anyone who knows anything about Israel's defensive nature towards human rights organisations and the UN could have seen that coming. The accusations of anti-Semitism are, of course, rife. When major government officials simply respond with phrases like "Hague Shmague", you know that what you're dealing with is a state built on forever denying accountability.
Despite Israel's scepticism, the recent issuance of historic measures by the world court carries profound implications. These measures specifically call for Israel to take decisive steps to prevent genocidal acts, address incitement to genocide, and provide a comprehensive report on its actions within a month. The ICJ has limited enforcement powers, but I think their ruling adds to the political discomfort experienced by Israel. The increased prominence of the ICJ and its recent rulings, particularly on the matter of incitement to genocide, have shifted the narrative, challenging those who previously shielded Israel from international criticism.
The tendency for defensive rhetoric may persist, but there is a noticeable transformation in the global perception of hypocrisy and double standards. I wrote about it in a previous post, but the hesitancy of the United States, the UK, Canada and other Western governments to criticise Israel and their discernibly selective approach to justice has actually been brought to the forefront. The recent judgment emphasises the imperative need for a more balanced and equitable approach, underscoring the significance of justice in various conflict zones worldwide.
The world court's increased visibility and the gravity of its recent rulings bring attention to the evolving narrative. Previous rulings by the ICJ, even on critical matters like genocide in Bosnia or the legality of the Israeli "separation barrier," barely made headlines. Despite the final judgment being a distant prospect, governments supporting Israel now find themselves needing to navigate the challenges created by their own stance on South Africa's case, previously deemed empty and illegitimate.
A compelling aspect of the recent ICJ proceedings has been the evidence presented on incitement to genocide, a crucial element outlined in the 1948 convention. Even before the South African submission, a former director general of the Israeli foreign ministry and others had discussed "extensive and blatant incitement to genocide and expulsion and ethnic cleansing." But many governments were hesitant to confront this self-evident truth.
It is incredibly frustrating because sometimes I listen to the politicians, and I just feel such a strong sense of anger mixed with disbelief at the words that are coming out of their mouths. Canada's Minister of Foreign Affairs issued a statement saying that they do not accept the premise of the genocide case brought by South Africa against Israel. Funny that she should say that, given that Canada’s model of colonial confinement of its Indigenous peoples through the reserve & pass system was adopted by apartheid South Africa and later imported by Israel. So much of the Canadian government's time is spent convincing its people that they have moved on and learned from their past. The irony of today's events and their response could not be more obvious.
In the UK, the former prime Minister and current foreign secretary stutters on live television when being asked very basic questions about Gaza before saying that he isn't a lawyer and he can't answer in good faith. The foreign secretary cannot answer questions on foreign affairs in good faith. And weeks later, after the ICJ ruling, he's back on our screens, saying in a strong, assured voice that he actually disagrees with some of the strongest, most sound legal minds on the planet.
It's like come on.
I'd be typing for ages if I start to give examples from leaders in the US and the EU but the point is the reluctance of Washington and co. to condemn human suffering in Palestine has not only been detrimental to the Palestinians but also poses challenges for Israel. The repercussions extend beyond the immediate conflict, reflecting a pick-and-choose approach to justice. This approach proves to be perilous for justice globally, with implications seen prominently in the current north-south divide involving Ukraine. Why? Because Russia now has the ultimate ammunition.
Ukraine's efforts to gather support has now been made that much harder. As long as Israel and Western governments choose to dismiss the ICJ, the international community will turn Ukraine into a "your victims" versus "our victims" case. How can these countries say they are acting in good faith when it comes to Vladimir Putin but refrain from addressing the actions of an ally responsible for the deaths of over 25,000 civilians in a couple of months?
It feels like a waste of breath at this point, to be honest. The countless stories coming out of Gaza since October and well before that are vile. Millions are being cramped into one corner of a strip while everything they've ever known and loved is discriminately bombed. People are eating animal food out of pure hunger in Gaza. A child dies every 15 minutes in Gaza. Women are forced to use pieces of the tents they have been forced to live in as menstrual products in Gaza. Miscarriages are up 250% in Gaza. There has been countless reports of sexual and domestic violence by soldiers in Gaza.
And when these issues are brought up, there is a laughable amount of whataboutism to justify it all.
There is a poignant reminder of the fundamental principle of justice itself for politicians here. Unequal justice is tantamount to no justice at all. The destabilising impact of such inequity matters not only for Gaza and Ukraine but resonates in conflict zones globally, from Ethiopia and Sudan to Myanmar and Congo. If the ICJ's judgment manages to compel Western governments toward a more balanced approach, it would undoubtedly be a valuable outcome. Turning a blind eye to these issues could lead to detrimental consequences not only for the Palestinians but for the global pursuit of justice.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
*spoilers of the movie Past Lives*
I re-watched Past Lives recently and I think it's one of those movies that will stay with me forever. Or at least the messages I took away from it will.
The film weaves the story of Nora and Hae Sung through three distinct phases of their lives. The initial chapter unfolds when they are both 12 years old in South Korea, only to be separated when Nora's family relocates abroad. The second phase transpires years later as they rekindle their connection through the virtual realm of Skype. Finally, the third act occurs as Hae Sung embarks on a journey to New York, where Nora now resides with her husband.
I first saw this movie a couple months back with three of my friends at the movie theatre. One of my friends and I were on a sugar high after going to town on a full-sized bag of candy (snuck in, of course), and my other two friends were actually high. No one was really in the mindset to discuss the movie thoroughly, so after the 15-20 minute discussion, we were on our way to the nearest bar.
Watching it a second time around, I made a point of directing my attention to the main themes. The film intricately unravels the trajectory of Nora's life in its first and third phases, skillfully navigating parallel courses that briefly converge in what Nora poetically terms as inyeon moments.
“There is a word in Korean – inyeon. It means providence or fate. But it’s specifically about relationships between people ... It’s an inyeon if two strangers even walk past each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush, because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives. If two people get married, they say it’s because there have been 8,000 layers of inyeon over 8,000 lifetimes."
I spent a lot of time thinking about this. Do I genuinely subscribe to the notions of fate and destiny, particularly in the context of inyeon? Furthermore, if I've internalised the concept of inyeon as a means to reconcile with the outcomes of relationships or life situations, does it imply a reluctance to actively shape my own inyeon?
That is scary to think about. I think diverting our attention from the present relationships – whether romantic or otherwise – towards predetermined notions puts us at risk of being in a relationship – and thus liking, befriending, and loving – with an illusion rather than the authentic individual. The better approach, in my opinion, involves channelling affection towards the individual in question. By doing so, we empower ourselves to forge our own destiny through intentional choices rooted in love.
Fate and destiny in romantic relationships are a bit too romanticised within our media for my liking. But I can understand how they serve as a comforting rationale in the face of inexplicable situations. Given the inherent lack of control in relationships and our innate desire to comprehend the why behind life's occurrences, many turn to the notions of fate and destiny to provide solace and meaning to the seemingly senseless.
The film illustrates that Hae Sung and Nora are destined to share a profound inyeon spanning decades. Yet, in the present life portrayed, their connection doesn't manifest as the romantic inyeon one might anticipate. And that's really fascinating to think about in the context of my life and my relationships.
In the film's final scene, Nora and Hae Sung are locked in a gaze while awaiting his ride to the airport. Their shared silence echoes with unspoken words, accompanied by the subtle cadence of New York City. It's a poignant moment that resonates, inviting reflection on the intricate dance between fate, destiny, and the unpredictable nuances of love.
When the car arrives, before getting in Hae Sung says: "If this is a past life, wouldn't that mean we're already a different inyeon in the next life?"
Nora: "I really don't know."
Hae Sung: "Let's meet then [in the next life]."
And then he drives off.
The movie ends with Nora crying in her husband's arms. But I don't think these tears are indicative of a broken heart. I think they symbolise the culmination of a love story thwarted. They are a farewell to the children who were soulmates but were separated by the arbitrary boundaries imposed upon them. They express Nora's deep connection with someone so profound that she can only characterise it as inyeon. They acknowledge that what was destined to be did not come to fruition, and that what could not be in one lifetime remains eternally elusive. There is a deep and heavy sorrow here: a lamentation for a life left unrealised.
I also think, beyond Nora's connection with Hae Sung, there exists her own personal grief. When Nora undergoes immigration, it isn't just a departure from the life her 12-year-old self led. It's also a departure from the potential person that young girl could have evolved into and the alternate life she might have experienced.
I can't relate to having a childhood Korean boyfriend travelling 13 hours for a farewell, but I can resonate with the act of glancing back at the paths I have not taken, especially those that were not my choice. The pervasive sense of loss that often accompanies immigration. How does one quantify the unrealized potential?
At the age of 12, Nora doesn't actively choose to immigrate. However, as she progresses through life, her subsequent choices lead her farther away from South Korea and, consequently, from Hae Sung.
In the act of decision-making, we inevitably forego certain possibilities. These omissions, be they unrealised dreams, unexplored loves, or paths left untaken, manifest as a seemingly confusing ache. The combination of these individual pains forms a symphony of personal struggles. Each choice exacts a toll and weightier decisions compose a web of torment.
To me, that’s another reason why Nora breaks down. It extends beyond the longing for Hae Sung or the awareness that their paths may never cross again in this lifetime. Nora is also mourning the phantom version of herself that never materialised.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
I spent 15 hours, across three days, watching and taking notes on the legal proceedings at the International Court of Justice, where South Africa filed a genocide case against Israel.
South Africa's case was a temporal snapshot that lay the weight of decades of historical context. Although the specifics of the case pertained to Israel's actions in Gaza, its overarching objective reached beyond these particulars. At its core, the case sought to address the substantial disparity between the lived reality of Palestinians and the narrative propagated by dominant political forces.
Across the globe, public anger regarding the events in Gaza has manifested on the streets. However, political leaders consistently chose to overlook, dismiss, ban, or vilify this collective sentiment. Maybe it is recency bias, but in my lifetime, there has never been such a disconnect between politicians and their people than when it comes to Gaza.
The significance of South Africa's case before the International Court of Justice is that it publically challenges the portrayal of the Palestinian cause as a fringe issue.
Beyond merely outlining the severity of events – 23,000+ killed in Gaza, the 1.9 million displaced, the 7,000+ missing under the rubble, and the thousands of bombs dropped, making this the deadliest rate of conflict of the 21st century – the case links these claims to the Geneva Conventions and human rights law.
But where are we as a society, as a human race even, that we are at a point where the case was brought forth in the first place? Such an initiative questions the legitimacy of the international response and underscores the diminishing persuasive power of Western logic in an increasingly multipolar world.
The case represents a broader confrontation within international institutions, raising doubts about the actual existence of the human rights infrastructure. The conflict has placed Western allies in the precarious position of undermining or neglecting their own established systems, eroding their credibility on the global stage. When you're against the United Nations and hundreds of human rights organisations and objecting to a submission in a global court (in the case of the US and UK, a court that they themselves established), you are simply pulling apart your house with the very tools that built it.
Western powers, having previously failed to support a Gaza ceasefire, will from now on be viewed in the global south as fighting on Israel's side. More so than they were already. And why wouldn't they be? These politicians have made it clear that they want to supply arms and military support to a regime, and their intervention, it seems, is contingent upon the safeguarding of goods shipment. These politicians assert that financial resources are lacking for reconstructing their nations, yet readily allocate funds for military endeavours. Why? How is any of this normal?
After the legal proceedings, Netanyahu said, "We will continue the war in the Gaza Strip until we achieve all our objectives. The Hague and the axis of evil will not stop us." Without compelling a policy change from Israel, what hope is there that South Africa's case will avail? It was obvious that Israel would use support from the US and the UK to prosecute the real agenda that Netanyahu and hundreds of Israeli politicians have hidden in plain sight (i.e. admitted on camera constantly): the destruction of Palestine and its people.
The recurring pattern is evident. Gaza transforms from an open-air prison to an open-air slaughterhouse under Israeli actions. Iraq faces invasion and fragmentation fueled by falsehoods and lies. Libya, once somewhat stable, descends into a state of civil war. Afghanistan witnesses invasion followed by prolonged failure and abandonment. Yemen endures relentless bombing, culminating in one of the most severe humanitarian crises in recorded human history. Syria? Also bombed, resulting in the displacement of thousands of refugees.
All of this, and more, is the legacy of Western "intervention", war, and policy in the Middle East.
Strangely, I find myself distanced from all this turmoil, yet the impact remains surprisingly profound. So many people I love have been impacted, yet I still experience a sense of detachment.
I go about my life. I have family and friends. I have hobbies and a job. But multiple times a day, it will hit me. I'll remember the videos I've seen of a mother crying over her son's body. Or the father carrying the remains of his children in plastic bags. Or the doctors performing amputations in overcrowded hospitals with nothing more than a dull butter knife. A wave of deep sorrow washes over me, settling in my chest like a persistent ache, lingering until I find a sufficiently absorbing distraction. And then, the cycle restarts.
But I don't want to be distracted. And I don't want to forget. I feel like I don't deserve to forget. It feels like the least I can do. Because I, unfortunately, do not have a megaphone loud enough to shout to those in positions of authority and tell them they are cowardly individuals sitting on chairs fashioned from the bones of Gaza's children.
In 2024, you would think that we would only be quoting Martin Luther King to learn about history and not to still use his message for current happenings, but he honestly said it best: "No one is free when we are all free."
32 notes
·
View notes