Siz paketleyemediklerimizden misiniz?

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Siz paketleyemediklerimizden misiniz?

Bir ülkede sıradan yollarla verilen bir servis paketlenmeye başlamışsa orada bir bit yeniği aramanın zamanı gelmiş demektir. Paketlemek, kategorilere sokmak, sınırları belirlemek hep aynı sansürcü zihniyetin ürünü olarak görülebilir. Paketlenmeyince herkese aynı fiyatta olan servis, paketlenince daha fazla parayı verenin olacaktır. Ayrıca her paketin kendi sınırları, o sınırları aşanlara yazacağı cezaları olacaktır.

Sınırsız Gazeteciler Derneğinin 2010 raporuna göre Türkiye basın özgürlüğünde 138. sırada yer alıyor. Bırakın yazarları, yabancı dilden makale çevirenleri bile “Sen nasıl bu yayını çevirirsin.” diye hapse attığımıza göre şaşırmamak gerek bu rakama. Hem o da bir şey mi? Biz basılmamış kitapları bile yasaklıyorken, doğmamış düşünceleri, daha tomurcuk bile olamamış şiir mısralarını zihnin en karanlık noktasına hapsediyorken, kim ne diye konuşsun özgürlükten?

Aslına bakılırsa durum hiç açıcı değil. Devletin güvenliği bahanesiyle kapatılan yülerce internet sayfası var Türkiye’de. Çocuk pornosunu, ırkçılığı, şiddeti yasaklamayı anlarım çünkü bu kavramların yıkıcılığı sınırları aşar; dil, din, ırk demeden herkesi kırar döker. Peki bilim adamı Richard Dawkins’in sayfasının kime ne zararı var ki devlet klavyelerimize kilit vurma ihtiyacı hissetmektedir. İnanan insan bakmasın sayfaya, çocuğuna baktırmasın. Zorlayan mı var Dawkins’in sayfasına baksınlar diye? Yüksek katlı binalar bebekler için tehlikeli olabilir diye çocuk yapmayan çift gördünüz mü hiç? Yok ama, bizde devlet hem anne hem babadır. Hem bu dünyayı hem de ahireti garanti almak ister. Halka güvenmek söz konusu olamaz çünkü “Şeytan insan için apaçık düşmandır”.

Siz hiç bir ateistin mahkemeye gidip “Bu adam benim inançsızlığıma günde beş kere minareden avaz avaz bağırarak hakaret ediyor” diye müzezzinden şikayet ettiğini duydunuz mu? Sesten rahatsız olanları duydum ama hakaretten şikayetçi olanı ben hiç duymadım. Oysa bizim ülkemizde, bir kapalı kutu gibi yaşayan karanlık denilebilecek insanların yaptıkları şikayetler sonucunda bir bilim adamının, dünya çapında bilimsel olarak kabul edilen web sayfası kapattırılıyor. Neden? Çünkü Dawkins’in sayfası Adnan Oktar’ın kitabı hakkında hakaretvari sözler ettiği için. İyi ama, bugün Türkiye’nin her yerinde binlerce, onbinlece yazılı ya da sanal yayın, evrimi alaya alır, evrime inananları ahmaklıkla, aptallıkla yaftalar. Bununla da kalmaz evrim kuramını 200-300 yıllık felsefi kanıtlarla çürütmeye çalışırlar. Peki neden halkının çocuklarının bilimsel ve düşünsel gelişiminden endişe etmesi gereken hükümet bu yayınları yapanlara ses çıkarmaz?

Soruları çoğaltabilir, derdimizi balon gibi şişirebiliriz. Başımızdakilerin bizim dertlerimize çare bulmayacakları, hatta dertlerimize kulak asmayacakları belli. Seçim kahinlerine bakılırsa AKP’nin karşısına eli yüzü düzgün bir parti çıkmadığı sürece de bu devran böyle devam edecektir. İçindeki ürünler har vurulup harman savrulan enflasyon sepeti her yıl daha düşük rakamlar yumurtlarken, ülkenin zengini ile yoksulu arasındaki fark artacaktır. Nüfusumuza bakılmadan, aptalca bir sıralamada dünyanın en büyük 20 ekonomisi arasına girdiğimiz her fırsatta tekrarlanacak ama BM’nin Yaşam Kalite Standartlarında hangi ilkelere giremediğimiz hep saklanacaktır. Onlarca gazeteci, yazar fikirlerinden dolayı hapse tıkılırken, bizler başbakanın çılgın “pıroceler”inin peşinde hak, adalet ve aydınlanma arayacağız.

Keşke İstanbul’u ortadan ikiye bölüp, ortaya bir “ucube” koyacaklarına, daha çılgın bir “pıroce”nin altına imza atıp, internetin boğazını rahat bıraksalar, aileleri bilinçlendirip, karılarını döven kocaları bir adım daha ileri gidip cinayet işlemeden hapse atsalar, insanların daha sağlıklı ve daha temiz bir ortamda yaşamalarını sağlamak için, kentin merkezindeki bir araziyi dev bir şirkete AVM yapsınlar diye satmak yerine kalp şeklinde dev bir park yapsalar çok daha büyük bir iş yapmış olurlar.

İnsanlar ekmeğe olduğu kadar umuda da muhtaçtır. Görünen o ki umut her gün biraz daha azalıyor özgür düşünen, özgür yazan insanlar için. İnternete vurulacak darbe bunun son noktası olacak ama işin burada bitmeyeceği kesin. Paketlenip, sokağa bırakılacak yavru kedilere döneceğiz yakında. Çünkü bir sonraki adım bilgisayarınızdaki dosyaları gözetleyen programlar olacak. Yazmadığınız ama aklınızdan geçirdiğiniz öykü sizi parmaklıkların arkasına atacak. Rüyasını gördüğünüz küfürler mahkemede karşınıza dikilecekler. Paketlenemediğiniz için kafeslere tıkılacaksınız! Ve siz soğuk zeminli hücrenin üzerinde sol yanınızı ısıtmak için uğraşırken, televizyonda tanıdık bir ses yasakları delmek için tiyo verecek. “Ben giriyorum, siz de girin.” diyecek. Evet, o sesin sahibi kendi ürünü olan yasağı delip youtube’e girecek. Siz ise benzer yasaklı bir sayfanın yasağını delmek istediğiniz için hapse gireceksiniz.

Diary of a Mouse Living in 1.6.07 - 4th day (1)

May 11^th 20.. – Wednesday – 23:55

Diary,

Here I am, writing again. I am writing because this is the least I can do. Those who know how to live and enjoy living are outside, sucking the fun of life and exploiting every moment of time passing above them. I am doing nothing but writing, like an injured soldier, banned from fighting, sitting in the barracks and waiting for good news from the battleground... If my injury is physical, I would know that time will heal it sooner or later. When the injury is deep inside my soul I know that there is no cure but there is only morphine to mitigate the pain. I wish it was only pain of love then I would feel comfortable at least for no one else is involved. But there is more to it. There is ignorance, negligence and there is carelessness which causes big, unrepairable damages to me and my community. It is easy to forgive someone who hurt you but it is not easy to forgive oneself for what you have done to others. The guilt growing on your shoulders make you weaker and weaker everyday. You shrink to a tiny mouse and finally disappear from the society as if you have never lived. Perhaps, this is why I write, to leave evidence behind my life, some innocent tracks which might change the minds of millions who will come after me and will listen to the history’s harsh judgments.

I am getting tired, dear diary, getting more and more desperate. Many things happened in last two days. I know that the other name of love is hope but I don’t know how long more I can hold after causing all these troubles both for myself and for my comrades. Let me start from beginning:

Tuesday morning I woke up early –actually I felt I didn’t sleep at all- to feed the babies. While I was giving them their breakfast, one mouse from the revolutionary committee appeared next to the air conditioner pipe where we are living at the moment. He greeted me, gave me a letter, greeted me again and left without saying a word. I was scared of the formality of the procedure. It was like I received an execution verdict and he was so sad that he could not utter a word. Perhaps, that was the order. Any word coming out of his mouth would be his responsibility so he preferred to be quiet and let the letter speak.

The letter was short and straightforward. For the history records, I am writing it word by word:

Comrade Snow,

Yesterday and last night we have lost three mice in the room 1.6.07 and two mice in 1.6.04. This is a terrible loss for us. Especially when we need the unity and solidarity of mice in order to look strong in front of the rats, our ideological enemies, I cannot express how deeply we are concerned about this big loss. It seems our human enemies suspect some extraordinary movements of mice and they prepare counter attacks to assassinate each one of us till no mouse remains in the higher floors of the building.

Moreover, our intelligence agency reported me that you have been seen in the office floor when the people are around and awake. This is an obvious violation of the security rules. In addition, the same report mentions that there is a suspected love affair between you and a human female office employee. This is also a big violation of the third principle.

In addition to all of these, I have been informed that you did not attend the committee meeting and started behaving sluggishly in recent days.

For the safety of all mice community and the future of our revolution, you are summoned to defend yourself in front of the Great Leader. If you are found guilty, you will be punished according to the law.

Two policemice will come to your door at 3 pm today and will bring you to the court where the Great Leader and two independent judges will be present. Until the time of the court hearing, the policemouse who brought this letter to you will proctor the surrounding area of your house and will not let you leave your home.

Long live the solidarity of mice till the bright days of the revolution arrives,

The Great Leader

So my diary, how should I feel after reading such a dark letter? I was accused of three crimes two of which I didn’t care. But the first one hurt me more than the strongest mouse trap can hurt my white belly. Five mice are killed by the humans because of the alert they have raised after my irresponsible actions. I wish there was an interstice on the ground and I could disappear inside forever. I wish end of the world was today and there will be no more day to disgrace me. I wish I have never seen that woman in my life and kept my simple life as a servant of the future revolution...

But my diary, what is the point of regretting after doing wrong? Love is a sweet poison. Once it is inserted into your veins, it makes you drunken and then kills you slowly. Here I am, the living proof of this, a living but soon-to-die proof of the venomous love...

I did not want to go out all day, wanted to stay with my kids, fed them with the cookies I stole from 1.6.07 last night and wanted to cry silently. I waited for the time to strike 3 pm so that I can go in front of the great leader and clean myself if such a thing possible after having the blood of five comrades smeared to my hands, perhaps to my heart... I waited in my room, leaned towards the AC pipe and looked out the window. Of course, the more I have waited, the more my mind relaxed. The sky was so blue all morning. There was not a single cloud. The clarity of the day, the vast blueness of the horizon, the sparkling green of the top of the trees made my thoughts scattered widely and prodded me towards her again. I could not stop myself thinking of her and wondering what she is doing now. I was sure she hated me but perhaps I still had one last chance to prove myself to her and make a peaceful attempt for the future of human-mouse brotherhood. So I decided to see her one more time. If I fail this time too, I will never betray to my mousehood again...

I sneaked out my place and found my way to the ceiling of the room 1.6.07. She wasn't there yet so I spent some time observing other teachers and listening to their office talks.

To be continued...

Diary of a Mouse in 1.6.07 - 3rd day

First Day: http://rizaarican.blogspot.com/2011/05/diary-of-mouse-living-in-1407.html

Second Day: http://rizaarican.blogspot.com/2011/05/diary-of-mouse-living-in-1607-2nd-day.html

May 9^th 20.. – Monday - 22:44

Dear diary, dearer diary, my dearest diary...

You are the only one I can talk to, you are the only one I can empty my mind into. If I don’t have you, I would be a mad mouse, walking like a Majnun in the deserted corridors of this building.

It rained last night quite heavily. I listened to the rumbles of the thunders till morning and kept dreaming about my sparkling Monday with her. How will she look like when she sees me again? What will she be wearing? Will she be happy? Excited? Nervous? I could not sleep, thinking of all the possibilities, all the combinations... When the morning sun hit my eyes, I ran outside, felt very light with the fresh air filling my lungs and giving strength to my legs. Getting the morning coolness from the wet grasses, I was happy as ever. I took a bath in a large puddle behind the bushes and dried myself in the morning sun.

Then I found a nice pink rose in the garden. It seemed like someone put it there so that I can pick it. I quickly climbed the tree and started gnawing. While working on the branch and daydreaming about my love’s reaction when she sees my gift, two dirty rats with huge bellies saw me and whispered to each other. I could not hear what they spoke but then one of them turned to me and said “You little thing, go and hunt! I will come later to collect my share.” I ignored him and they didn’t seem brave enough to attack me anyway. After showing me their black teeth and grumbling like old grandmothers, they left me alone with my unique ambition. I snatched the rose and ran to the office. I put it on her desk, right on top of her keyboard. Then I hid myself at a corner where I can have a complete view of her desk, her chair, her computer screen and her book shelf. I stayed behind some past exam papers right behind her desk and waited her to come.

I must confess that I needed to wait quite a long time. I have dozed a bit while waiting for her. In that short but somehow intense nap, I dreamed of my ex-wife. She complained about how I became an irresponsible mouse in just two days and how my babies are suffering because of my stupid adventure with a human “femme fatale”. I told her that “I am not going to learn how to be a responsible mouse from you. Did you forget that you are the one who left the babies without mother?” However, her mouth was working better than her brain. She said “I ran away to save them from myself. I knew I could not be a good mother.” I replied relentlessly this time. “What kind of stupid excuse is that? What kind of mother runs away from her babies for a comfortable life with rats? You are not only a bad mother, you are also a traitor. If you survive till the revolution, I will be the one who will imprison you.” Then she looked at my face and with a begging voice she cried out, “I made a mistake. But you should not. Babies cannot bear two mistakes one after the other. Your revolution will never come. This is why I left you. Powerful ones will always rule the world as it happened in the past. I am tired of dreams and I wanted to live my life when I am alive. Please, go back home and feed the babies. Forget this woman! She will hurt you. If not today, tomorrow! But she will definitely hurt you. Pleaseeee! Go now!”

Then I woke up with the noise of approaching footsteps. I knew this dream was about my inner struggles, I knew it is nothing to do with my ex-wife or her leaving me alone with three babies. These things happened long ago and the ashes cooled down. But I had a mission for this morning and I needed to complete it. Otherwise, I would feel blameworthy all my life. I waited for the footsteps to come closer, locked my stares into her desk and tried to keep my heart calm.

However, this coming person was not her. A man with black trousers and a neatly ironed blue shirt came to her desk to leave a note. I think this man works in another office and comes here often to see some of his friends. I saw him a few times watching light porn on this desktop and fighting for his privacy. Of course, it makes sense to fight for privacy when you do wrong things. While he was leaving the desk, the big fat lady from the neighbouring desk came and asked him if he is the one who left the flower on her desk. He said nothing but just grinned meaninglessly. Did he mean he left the flower on her desk? Did the big fat lady reach a wrong conclusion from his silence? But what would be the wrong conclusion? Maybe he wanted to be misunderstood. If no one claims the rose, he can claim it as if he put it there and he can win my love’s heart. Shit! Dogshit! Ratshit! Humans are so cunning, so vulpine, so so disgusting…

I kept waiting helplessly while trying to stop my eyes bursting into tears. If I move to her desk and draw a nice mouse picture next to the rose, she would be getting my message correctly but as long as that big fat lady is sitting next to my sweetheart’s desk, I could not take the risk. I kept waiting and watching people of the office. Two men opposite her desk were talking about the recent job openings and how there was no point in applying because the managers probably already decided who would take the job.

One said to the other one, “It does not matter how qualified you are, it matters how you can work with the management. If you cause trouble for them, if you make so much noise then they will definitely not choose you. The system needs conformists, not disobedient rebels.”

The other one nodded quietly and then said “But I still have hope. The recent appointments were total sham and the noise it caused was enormous. It is better if they take action against nepotism and make some just decisions. Otherwise, this place will be known by favouritism and sheer cronyism.”

The first one grinned as if there was nothing to do but agree. He added after a few seconds “But you know, our manager comes from advertising background. Look at all advertising teachers. All four of them in this office have only two teaching days a week. Manager will never allow us to have such a timetable because once you attempt it he will remind you your contract which mentions 40 hours work a week.”

The other one seem surprised “Are you serious? All four of them have timetables like that? Two days a week? What are they doing in other three days?”

“Yes, if you don’t believe me, look at the online system. It is all there. All you need is to be close to the manager. The rest is democracy!” said the first one.

While their voice was getting louder and louder with continuing astonishment, a guy with ponytail approached right behind them and told them that “Excuse me! I am trying to work here and I need a quite environment to concentrate. Can you please continue your funny conversation outside the office?”. Two guys apologized with ironic smirks on their faces. It did not seem a genuine apology to me at all but it did not matter. No one seemed desiring to have an argument over an issue like this. While the guy with the ponytail was getting back to his cubicle with the same speed he emerged from there, the noisy two guys whispered to each other. At that point I felt like managers to the employees must be like rats to the mice. They do nothing but creating more conflict with their unjust decisions. The more I think the more similarities I caught between mice and people. Same as us, people too cannot bear injustice. Whenever they see it, they want to stand up and rebel. However, there is always a logical explanation. Believe me, dear diary! There is even a logical explanation for cronyism as long as powerful one wants to find one. This is why we need a revolution. This is why the problems of mice cannot be solved by education only. No matter how much we educate our children, rats will educate them more. No matter how many important points we conquer by law, rats will always have more strategic ones. Revolution will turn everything upside down, including their bourgeoisie logic. Anyway, let’s not talk about the revolution now. Let me get back to my story, to the most exciting part.

With the fresh slap on their faces, two guys got quiet for a while and greeted the woman who just entered to the office. This was her, I felt it with all my heart, I felt it from the vibrations of the ground. After all those boring conversations, after all those humanly dilemmas, finally she was here. Her footsteps were the sweetest music I have ever heard in my life, it was the revolution of my soul, it was the first rain after a year of drought…

When I see her legs, I felt like my heart will jump out of my chest and will go to dance in front of her, singing Aloha, Aloha... A full moon rose over me in a cloudy desert night… But I survived the heart beat! Here she is, with a nice indigo blue skirt, purple high-heel shoes and a white blouse covered by a small jacket on her shoulders. What a choice for the most beautiful day of her life! Of course, she did not know that this is the most beautiful day of her life but I knew. Looking from the ground, it was hard to detect the changes in her facial gestures but I was content with what I could see. When she saw the rose, she smiled and then took the note in her hand. After reading the note, she smiled even more, smelled the rose and moved her head around as if she was checking if someone is watching her. Then she put the rose right on the note and made a call. To my surprise, she did not speak English on the phone. It was a language I have never heard of, sounded more like Slavic or Polish! Her conversation was long and loud. Then the same man with the ponytail came out again and warned her not to talk loudly on the phone in the office. He made it clear that “If you want to talk, please go out and talk” She stopped talking on the phone, put her hand on the speaker and looked at him with a face seemed like she did not understand what was it all about. After a few seconds, she apologized too. Ohh my sweetheart, my little kindle... Don’t worry, I will take your revenge. Tonight I will eat his tea bags and shit on his laptop computer. Don’t worry!

After uttering an apology and waiting to see him getting back his cubicle, she left her desk and went outside. What I felt at that moment was actually that the worst possibility was becoming real. She definitely thought that the rose and the note came from the same person. That bastard must have written something meaning that he got the rose for her. Liar! What a cheat! My heart was full of exasperation, full of desire for retaliation. But dear diary, I believe in true love and also non-violence. I believe sooner or later truth will triumph the world and I will gain her heart. I believe and I want the entire world to believe.

When she was back to her chair, I had a very intense urge pushing me towards her. Suppressing the claims of my rational brain, I took the risk and slowly walked under her desk. It was a cosy environment with all sorts of papers, plastic bags, a badminton racket and a box of red wine from California. I got close to her feet, laid down there and watched her delicate toes. I got closer and closer without thinking of the possibility of the fatal hazard. Eventually, love does not recognize boundaries, right? It has no limits… So I was challenging to death and torture, I was challenging to life too. Love cannot be called if it does not pass certain tests. Here it is, I am proving that I love her more than I love my own life. Come here and take my life but do not tell me you don’t love me. Come here babe, come here and take me...

While laying down there and enjoying the happiest moments of my entire life, I spotted a big red scar on her right leg, a few centimetre above her ankle. I knew these scars very well. She must be new to Vietnam and she must be careless when she rides xe om. It seemed exactly like a burn scar from the hot exhaust pipe of the motorbike. Every girl in this country has this scar. As a mouse walking on the ground all the time, I know it very well. Ohh my poor hazelnut, my little “la vache qui rit”! Are you hurt? Are you in pain?

I also realized that my sweetie did not shave her legs for a while. Ehh, I must confess that I like it this way more. A little bit of bristle on the skin will make us closer. Perhaps she did not shave her legs because she knew she was going to meet me today. Perhaps she is also in love with me. What is the point in shaving anyway? Humans shave so that they will not look like animals but their history is full of atrocities that they actually seem wilder than the wildest animal. Yes, they look more attractive to the completing sex –I don’t like using the phrase “opposite sex”- when they shave but deep inside, the core of brutality is still alive same as the root of the hair always remained intact no matter how smooth it looks from outside.

Dear diary, I pitied her for her injury and I respected her for her attempt to get closer to me. These two made me even braver. You know that the line between courage and insanity is very thin, right? I was there, stepping on that line and fighting against my wisdom. However, after few minutes of struggling I could not stop myself and suddenly I have touched her toes with my front feet. I put my cheek on her small toe. It was such a lovely moment you can imagine. Finally we were unified, I was fondling her feet and she was letting me do this like a submissive partner in the game of love. It was a holy moment for me, the holiest ever. Everything was heavenly till she pulled her leg, jumped back from her desk, pushed the desk to speed up on her chair and screamed with a frightened child’s voice. I tried to say “Calm down darling, it is me. It is the one who loves you the most” but she did not listen. The last thing I saw was she was holding her badminton racket, swinging it crazily. I had no choice but run between the boxes next to her desk. With the help of the other teachers in the room, she tried to trap me from both sides but I managed to escape into a small hole and later I entered to the electric cable lines. I saved my life but felt extremely angry and frustrated. I knew she loves me too but how could I make her realize this?

Rest of the day passed with boredom. I fed the babies and stayed with them so that the pain of love will not haunt me in my lonely moments. But dear diary, what should I do? I am truly in love with this girl but things are a bit complicated in her side. I think she is confused or she cannot understand my good intentions. I did my best today to make myself as clear as possible. I tried to show my gentle side, my genuine smile, my truly mouse face. But she reacted exactly the same way she did two days ago. I need a better plan, one which will not leave any space for misunderstandings, one which will bring her to me...

May 11^th 20.. – Wednesday – 23:55

Diary,

Here I am, writing again. I am writing because this is the least I can do. Those who know how to live and enjoy living are outside, sucking the fun of life and exploiting every moment of time passing above them. I am doing nothing but writing, like an injured soldier, banned from fighting, sitting in the barracks and waiting for good news from the battleground... If my injury is physical, I would know that time will heal it sooner or later. When the injury is deep inside my soul I know that there is no cure but there is only morphine to mitigate the pain. I wish it was only pain of love then I would feel comfortable at least for no one else is involved. But there is more to it. There is ignorance, negligence and there is carelessness which causes big, unrepairable damages to me and my community. It is easy to forgive someone who hurt you but it is not easy to forgive oneself for what you have done to others. The guilt growing on your shoulders make you weaker and weaker everyday. You shrink to a tiny mouse and finally disappear from the society as if you have never lived. Perhaps, this is why I write, to leave evidence behind my life, some innocent tracks which might change the minds of millions who will come after me and will listen to the history’s harsh judgments.

Diary of a Mouse Living in 1.6.07 - 2nd day

May 8^th 20.. – Sunday – 23:45

Dear Diary,

I did not write anything all day. Office was empty. Not a single human being came. Not even that crazy professor who re-writes history of science in a reverse fashion showed up. I read the first draft which he left on his desk. He starts with Einstein and goes back towards Thales or perhaps till the invention of wheel. I am not sure what exactly he would like to achieve. I got bored after 20 pages and went to read my favourite collection of Sherlock Holmes. But dear diary, I could not focus on my favourite stories either. As you know we are nocturnal animals so our eyes are not so good to read long time. I went back home to sleep but sleep never came as if I was guilty of something. I left the office for a while, went down on the grass to feel the strong sunshine on my body but still something inside me kept bothering my balance. I lied on the grass, forgetting the threat of snake or raven attacks, looked at the sun and tried to analyse my mind. But it did not work! Wherever I go, whatever I do, it did not matter. Something was missing, something that I never knew it existed before. It was like a huge lump of mass sitting in my stomach and making me feel uneasy all the time.

Is this the melancholy of love? I don’t know. I don’t remember when I felt this way last time. It is a good feeling in one way because it made me expect something from my future life. However, when I think of the consequences and the possible conflicts that I will need to overcome, I was too scared. Yes, this is love, not only a simple infatuation but desperate conditions are hard to ignore. I believe that love is the only kind of loss of freedom which eventually strengthens us. However, does she also believe this? Does my princess understand me?

With this low morale, I did not go to seventh revolutionary meeting either. I did not want my comrades sense my discombobulation. Also with this state of mind, one cannot contribute to the meeting. I was full of her, every single cell in my body was dreaming about her all the time. I wandered outside and inside the building, killed my Sunday with silly daydreams. When I got back home in the evening I saw a note from the meeting committee. It said “You will be excommunicated from the revolutionary committee if you miss one more meeting.” I felt sad as for me revolution against the rats, throwing them out of our land and creating an equal society have been the biggest priority for me since I was a little mouse. This is how we all read the ANIFA and memorized a big portion of it.

Hoping that this diary is kept secret from the party –and from the people-, I can here reveal the secret behind this name. The word ANIFA is created by the first half of both words of the famous novel “ANIMAL FARM”. It is called ANIFA because we read only the first half of the book which mentions how animals win over men. The second half is banned in the entire mice community because according to our Great Leader, this part should be read after the revolution. Actually, I read the second half on computer screen and know the entire story till the end but cannot mention it to anyone in the community. Our Great Leader –I should write “great leader”- says we must know ANIFA by heart till the day of revolution, till we kick the asses of those lazy rats, those parasites who do nothing but steal from hard-working mice. Then we will re-write the second part of the book without needing to have the dictator Napoleon or the exiled Snowball.

The book includes most of the original work from Orwell’s Animal Farm but at some points there are changes made by the great leader. He made sure that the rules work fine for the entire mice community and we can have a good pre-revolutionary lives with minimum sacrifices. Some parts are modified to adapt it to mice population. For example, our first principle is “All mice are equal.”, the second principle is “No mice are more equal.”, third one is “Our natural enemies are snakes, cats, dogs, ravens and of course humans. Our secret enemy is rats.”...

Now dear diary, I am writing here because I know no one in the mice community will read these words. If they read, they will kick me out of the community and this will be my end as an honourable mouse. I don’t agree with the last commandment. I believe humans and mice can be good friends, can work together for a better future. Yes, they use us in the laboratories in order to find remedies for fatal diseases; they kill millions of us for drug tests. They also make millions of dollars by using our names in cartoon movies –I cannot stop loving Jerry! He is my idol!- or for a gadget connected to each one of the desktop computers around the world. But aren’t all these evidences to prove my proposition of “we can be friends.” I understand our great leader’s point that human beings are the cruellest animal on the surface of the earth but we should look from the perspective of “greater common good”.

Mutual benefits can be guaranteed by certain contracts and we can live in peace same as dogs and cats do now. Like all living organisms, humans too would like to live longer. For this they use a few millions of knockout mice –genetically modified ones- and later create even more millions of mice. Those knockout mice would not even have existed if humans did not create them for the purpose of medical research. Why do they do this? Because humans and mice share a high degree of homology, the whole thing makes sense. Besides, there are millions of people around the world –not in Vietnam yet but surely it will arrive here as well if we can wait a bit more- who feed mice at home as pets. This is another proof of humans and mice can be and must be friends.

I don’t want my comrades reading this diary after my death thinking that I want to set up a friendship between humans and mice because I am in love with a human. First of all, I don’t believe that love is a betrayal to the revolution. I love the revolution and I love my sweetheart. Maybe I will convert her to a great revolutionary road too. Who can prove I cannot? Secondly, I know a lot about time management. Love will not steal my time which otherwise I would be spending for the revolution. I am a mature mouse who knows how to deal with his emotions and his serious goals. I know our species will not be in peace until we throw all the rats out of the land they took from us, until all mice become equal and share everything they hunt.

Besides this, I also don’t like the idea of exalting the great leader as if he is a gift from heavens. If we would like to have a truly socialist society in which all mice can live in peace after getting rid of the big fat rats, we need to stop respecting individuals and should look for the best for the community. History is full of bad examples of exalting great leaders and their ideas. The final result is usually a disaster with mass starvations or mass killings. Both are the same anyway! I believe we mice are smart animals and we know that individuals are mortal, their ideas are mortal too. What is eternal is the community and their well-being.

I have to go now to look after my kids. They must be awake now, seeking food.

Long live the revolution, long live the friendship between humans and mice, long live my beloved kindle...

May 9^th 20.. – Monday - 22:44

To be continued...

http://rizaarican.blogspot.com/2011/05/diary-of-mouse-in-1607-3rd-day.html

Diary of a mouse living in 1.6.07 - 1st Day

May 7^th 20.. – Saturday – 03:23

Dear diary,

Last night we lost a comrade. But I can assure you that one mouse dies here, one thousand mice resurrect with the spirit of our deceased friend. We must keep our solidarity and get ready for fierce fights. I saw him struggling in the mouse trap; half of his body was squeezed by the thin metal stick, he was weak with his inner organs came out off his skin. Can you imagine how it feels looking at your dying friends’ eyes and not being able to do anything to save him? It was like a horror movie that had a never-ending murder scene and you forgot that you are watching a movie. I watched my friend dying and the people around were making jokes, laughing, discussing world politics. You idiots don’t deserve to talk any politics because politics exist to make life easier, to make life more peaceful for everyone. Here a life is getting tortured and you think you are smart to talk politics. If I was big enough I would make a human trap, catch the humans who try to catch us and take the revenge for all my ancestors who lost their lives in mouse traps. They don’t only kill us for fun, they also like torturing us, entertain themselves with the blood spilling from the small bodies of my friends and celebrating their hunts as if it is for survival. I cannot believe how disgusting human beings can be sometimes!!!

Not only disgusting, they are also ignorant species. They don’t remember that we were the first residents of this room. We escape from the Great Genocide in the garden at the time of the construction and made this place our home. My grand grandfather used to tell terrible stories about how the houses of his grand grand grand father were destroyed by the heartless construction machines and how they were poisoned to death. Majority of my ancestors living in the garden lost their lives. Some lucky ones managed to enter the building 1 and made themselves a simple living out of the leftovers people leave on their tables or in the rubbish bin. However, the ground floor was easily flooded and rats were galore.

Dear diary, I am writing here so history must know: Rats are our biggest enemies. They exalt power while we mice respect strength. They occupy our lands, steal our food and force us to move far from the major food supplies. And yet, they still attack on us, steal our stock and leave us with nothing to feed our young ones. For rats, we are slaves and we have to work for them so that they will have a comfortable life. Exploiting our labour and enslaving our souls what they enjoy doing the most. Rats think that it is impossible to enjoy both equity and efficiency in a society. Therefore, some must suffer for the efficiency and of course because they are bigger and stronger; all sacrifices are made by the little mice. So we had to escape to far places, to the smallest holes to grow bigger. The only place to move is the upstairs of the buildings where we can easily squeeze into small pipes and make ourselves tiny but comfortable homes. Whenever we have enough power –both physical and spiritual- we will hit back and establish a system in which every soul will live freely, without the fear of being perished by some powerful forces.

My grandfather came to this room before none of the current human residents were here. He kept saying that offices where we should be living due to its relative low population density and the never-ending food supply. There will always be someone bringing food –biscuits, cakes, pies, pieces of sushi, pizza, raisin bread… - and there will always be some leftovers. So we can live on these leftovers. As long as they don’t see us, there is no problem. This is why we do not walk around in the day time and take action only in the evening, after the lights are off. With this mutual respect to our cohabitants, we can survive long years and pursue a happy, prosperous life.

But dear diary, the first person enters the office at 7 am in the morning and sometimes the last person leaves about 10 pm. This means 15 hours of hiding! So we have to wait 15 hours for freely walking on the tables, looking for the food in the bin and making sure that our young ones will be sustained with sufficient amount of daily food. Do you know how hard it is to hush kids with no food in hands and asking them to stop crying? You don’t… You are not a father! I am a father, dear diary and I am a responsible one. My kids’ mother left the room 1.6.07 after hearing too-good-to-be-true news from the first floor where they keep the big garbage bins. I told her that the rats will make our lives miserable, will constantly threaten us. She did not listen to me and went. But I did not go. I did not want my children grow in such an unhealthy, hostile environment. She did not come back since then so you can call me a single father! Maybe she found a new ratfriend and now happily living with him. I heard rats like small mice as wives. How disgrace! How awful! Being a slave in the hands of rats for a comfortable life! No, dear diary! I am a mouse of honour! A good mouse with a few words but a lot of action!

I could not wait this evening for the lights to go off and went out the electric cable line to look for something to bring my three babies. In these days, some teachers stay late either for killing time not to go home or for studying to some exams. In both ways, I pity them. I never felt that way. I always loved my home and always wanted to get back home after “food gathering” excursions. But people are strange! They work long years to set up a family and then once they complete everything, they try all the tricks to stay away from that home. What a sham! What a waste! Anyway, the room was quiet, unusually quiet. Light was on but it seemed to me someone left it on temporarily. Maybe the last person left for a toilet break. I was sure someone would be coming back so I needed to be quick.

I first went to the table of this fat lady who always brings delicious cakes to the office and always leaves some on her table in a plastic pack, wrapped in newspaper. But tonight there was nothing on the table except for a few pieces of crumbs. Damn it! She ate it all! Then I went to the next table where I saw a nice pack of biscuits. I did not know whose table was this as there was no name and I never had food from this table before but it did not matter. I jumped over the biscuits and started gnawing the package. While I was busy dreaming that this would be enough for my kids for tonight, the idea of “someone would be coming soon” slipped away from my mind. I totally forgot that the light was on and a human being might cause a big harm to my life.

Then dear diary, something happened. Something which never happened to any mouse in the whole history of mouse beings occurred in front of my eyes. I did not hear any sound till I lifted my head a bit to have a better bite on the pack. However, at the moment I took my new position I saw her. She was looking at me from a distance of less than a meter. But this is nothing. What would you expect from a mouse to do when he encounters a human face? Run away, right? But I didn’t, dear diary! I couldn’t. She was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my whole life. In that millisecond, my heart fell for her, surrendered all the weapons I had and filled with desire to be loved by her. I wish I was Balzac or Tolstoy so I could describe her beauty in words but you know dear diary, there is always distance between the language and reality. We try to minimize this distance with the help of metaphors and surreal symbolisms but I am only a mouse. All I read is the books left on these desks in the night and let it be our secret but most of the books in this office are kitch novels, some post-modern clichés and a few superfluous chick literature. Actually I feel ashamed to see academics read these books and still call themselves academics... Anyway, let’s not get away from the story. I saw her and stunned by her infinite elegance, her incredible charm, her almost invincible attraction...

You believe me, right? She was beautiful. Her face reminded me the pictures of goddesses in Roman mythology, Venus from Botticelli’s painting came to my mind first. Her nose looked very French but somehow I knew she was not French. Her eyes, ahhh her eyes, like a pair of diamonds looking over me to destroy me with her stare. I was the abyss, the secret of her life and she was afraid to fall in, holding the office partition to keep her balance. Her eyes made me frozen, dear diary. I was literally frozen, nailed to the desk, could not move a centimetre but still sniffing her perfume coming towards me together with the growing wave of fear. She smelled like the air after the rain, like the life just saved from an imminent death… Her eyebrows were like the crescent in a cloudless night, her hair was as smooth as the surface of a lake in summer that you would believe a little cockroach could lean forward and drink water...

However, I was not sure if she felt the same way. It seemed she was frozen too. She looked at me with the eyes resembling the windows of an abandoned house! Then her eyes got bigger, her face turned to red, her hands got tense. I sensed some trembling in her body as the desk she was holding started shaking. She left her arm and slapped the book that she was carrying on me with a ferocious force. I barely escaped the hit and run down quickly, passed between her legs –hearing her screams- and disappeared in the pile of used papers. Even after I entered to the electric cable line, I heard her cries, saying things like “dirty, filthy, disgusting…Ohh my God, ohh my God… what should I do now?” I felt broken-hearted but still deep inside I was in love with her. After a while, I calmed down and tried to think more rationally. Yes, I am a mouse and she is a human. But can’t we love each other? I realized that nothing is wrong in our love as long as we have time to solve the problems of cross-species conflicts. At the end, I like cheese, bread, pages of old books and biscuits. She might like red wine, burger king, pizza and Turkish kebab… Apparently she likes biscuits too. So we can learn from each other. The more I think the more I understood her reaction. She did the right thing so I will not judge her for this first incident. I forgave her! I will try hard to make her fall in love with me. I will show her –and the entire world- that we mice are not dirty, filthy, disgusting animals. At least not dirtier, filthier and more disgusting than human beings…

In the night, when I was sure that there was no one in the office, I went to her desk again, stayed there for a while, looked over her books and ate the corners of some pages which she probably touched with her delicate fingers. I also found an Amazon Kindle on her desk and inside there was a good selection of books. If she leaves this kindle on her desk every night, I can even download some books on history of mice and revolutions, read all night.

After filling my stomach and reading 50+ pages from “Of Mice and Men” –What a nice book on friendship between humans and mice. I love Steinbeck!-, I looked out the window, watched motorbikes passing by and dreamed about our good days in the future. It did not fit to my imagination very well but still ok, her beauty and my smart brain could be a perfect match for the future of our world. I dreamed, dreamed and dreamed…

After staying on her desk for about an hour, I took the biscuit pack –and my dreams- and got back my home. On the way I thought again and again, “We will meet again, my love, my precious one, my sweeter-than-honey, my kindle!!!”

May 8^th 20.. – Sunday – 23:45

2nd day is here: http://rizaarican.blogspot.com/2011/05/diary-of-mouse-living-in-1607-2nd-day.html

Sonsuz Adaletin Cebiri

Arundha Roy daha çok 1997’de Booker Ödülü alan “Küçük Şeylerin Tanrısı” romanıyla bilinen bir yazar. Kurgudaki ustalığını ve karakter yaratmadaki hünerini, keskin dille yazdığı makalelerinde de gösteriyor. 1998 ve 2002 yılları arasında kaleme aldığı makalelerden oluşan kitabı, Sonsuz Adaletin Cebiri (The Algebra of Infinite Justice) adını taşıyor.

Kitaptaki ilk makalenin başlığı “Hayal Etmenin Sonu”. Hindistan’ın Pakistan’a gözdağı vermek için yaptığı nükleer denemeleri ve ortaya çıkan çılgınlığa mantıklı bir kulp takmaya çalışan siyasi liderleri eleştiriyor, Roy. Bir çeşit savaş çığırtkanlığı da denilebilecek bu durumu izah etmenin bir yolunun olmayacağını anlatmaya çalışıyor örneklerle. Hindistan’ın nükleer denemelerle artık elit bir takım ülkeler sınıfına girmiş olma komedisine dokunurken şunları söylüyor: Birleşmiş Milletler İnsan Gelişmişlik Endeksine göre 175 ülke içerisinde 138. olan, 400 milyon insanın okuma-yazma bilmediği, 600 milyon insanın gündelik temizlik olanaklarından yoksun olduğu, 200 milyon insanın içecek su bulamadığı bir ülkenin nükleer silahı elinde tutan elit bir kümeye girmiş olmasının ne anlamı var? Tabii ekliyor sonunda, gerçekten de nükleer silaha ihtiyacımız var mı diyerek.

Bu soru tabii makale ilerledikçe genişleyip, fakir olsun, zengin olsun, herhangi bir ülkenin nükleer silaha ihtiyacı olup olmadığı noktasına varıyor. Beş milyar yıllık bir dünyanın kendini bilmez bir delinin, o herkesten gizli tutulan kırmızı düğmeye basmasıyla uzay haritasından silinebileceğini hayal edebiliyor musunuz? Ama tabii Hindistan hükümetinin de kendisine göre bahaneleri var ve bu bahanelerin başında ezeli düşmanları –sadece krikette değil, kebapta ve garili tavukta da!- Pakistan geliyor. Onların varsa bizim de olmalı gibisinden, çocukça bir yarış yani ortaya konulan neden. Oysa yarış demek karşı tarafı da azdırmak, dolayısıyla da sonu gelmeyen bir silahlanma yoluna girmek demektir.

Ardından hükümetin ulusal kimlik oluşturmak için ortak düşman yaratma çabasına değiniyor, Roy. Madem Hindistan’da yaşayan yüzlerce farklı halkın ortak bir noktası yok, en azından ortak bir düşmanımız olsun ki en azından düşmanın birliğinden faydalanarak kendi birliğimizi inşa edelim. Peki gerçekten de böyle bir birliğe ihtiyaç var mı? Pek çok Hindistanlı için tek bir Hindistanlı kimliği gereksizdir. Hatta pek çok Hindistan vatandaşı Hindistan sözcüğünü seçimler öncesinde ve kriket maçlarında duyarlar sadece. Onun dışında zaten onlarca kastın, yine bir o kadar dinin, yüzlerce dilin ve etnik kökenin birbirine karıştığı bir ülkede tek bir Hindistanlılıktan söz etmek insanların farklarına saygı duymamak demektir. Peki bu kadar zor olmasına rağmen neden ısrar etmektedir hükümet Hindistanlılık ortak paydası yaratma konusunda? Çünkü ancak böyle bir yalancı kimlikle halkların haklarını gözardı etme yetkisine kavuşur hükümet. Sonrasında da size eğitim ve ekmek değil, ortak düşmanımızı yok edebilmek için nükleer silah yaptım diyebilmek için.

Hindistan’ın nükleer silahlanması aslında yöneten sınıfın alt sınıfa attığı en son kazıktır diyor, Roy. Çünkü bir bombayı yapmak 400 milyona okuma yazma öğretmekten daha kolaydır. Çünkü siyasi partilerin kendilerini dev gibi gösterecek aynalara ihtiyaçları vardır. Çünkü ancak bu aynalar sayesinde yeniden seçilmeyi, daha fazla sömürmeyi, daha fazla yolsuzluğu garantileyebilirler. Sonuç olarak Hindistan nükleer silahlanma yoluna girmiştir. İnsanın Tanrı’ya başkaldırısı olarak da algılanabilecek olan –Öyle ya! “Sen yarattın bunca güzelliği, ben bir düğmeye basarak hepsini yok edebilirim.” demektir atom bombası.- nükleer silahlar insanlığın ürettiği en vahşi, en acımasız icattır. Ve insanlık bir masa etrafında oturup, hep birlikte yeryüzündeki tüm nükleer silahlara elveda diyeceği güne kadar, küçük büyük, zengin fakir hiçbir halkın rahat bir uyku uyuması mümkün değildir.

Nükleer bombaların olmadığı, insanın çılgınlığıyla değil de aklıyla ve sınırsız hayalgücüyle anıldığı, barışçı bir dünyayı kurmak hepimizin elindeyse eğer buna nükleer silahlara hayır demekle başlayabiliriz.

DN: Bu yazı 5 mayıs tarihinde http://www.haberajans.com/sonsuz-adaletin-cebiri-yazisi-2451.html sayfasında yayınlanmıştır.

Bataklik ve Sivrisinekler

Bataklık ve Sivrisinekler

Bin Ladin öldürüldü. İki gündür haber kanallarından hangisini açsam aynı şeyden sözediyorlar. New York’taki gençlerin kutlamaları, Obama’nın zafer (intikam!) konuşması, Bush’un durumdan çok memnun olması, piyasaların olumlu tepki vermesi... Papağan gibi saatlerce aynı şeyleri tekrar ediyorlar BBC ve CNN gibi kanallar. Yok efendim operasyon kaç dakika sürmüş, yok hangi tür helikopterler ne amaç için kullanılmış, yok villanın hangi kapısından girmişler ve Bin Ladin’i hangi gözünden vurmuşlar. Bunca yoğunlukta populizmin amacının, sorulması gereken soruları unutturmak olduğu apaçık ortada.

Bin Ladin bir teröristti, yani terör dediğimiz siyasi ve toplumsal kanserin bir ürünüydü. Onu terörizmin kaynağı gibi göstermek ve ölümüyle terörizmin kökenine darbe vurulduğunu düşünmek ahmaklığın daniskasıdır ve ancak populizmle demokrasiyi birlikte yürütmek zorunda kalan ülkelerde gerçekleşir. Terör bir tümördür ve bu tümörün beslenecek, büyütülecek bir tarafı yoktur. Fakat, yeryüzünde en az terör kadar kötü bir şey varsa o da teröre karşı topla tüfekle savaş açmaktır. Bataklığın kaynağını kurutmadan, bataklığı var eden etkenleri ortadan kaldırmadan, sivrisineklerle uğraşmaktan başka nedir teröre karşı girişilen askeri harekatların anlamı?

Şu bir gerçek ki terörün kaynağı yeryüzünde gittikçe artan eşitsizlik, adaletsizlik, uluslararası şirketlere peşkeş çekilen öz kaynaklar ve halkı bir hiç yerine koyup onların sefaletinden nemalanmak isteyen hükümetlerdir. Bu kaynağı sömürmek için bahane bulmak zor değildir. İster adını köktenci İslam koyun, isterseniz Maoist gerillalar deyin kavganın ucundaki kanın rengi değişmez. İşin acı yanı terör saldırılarında ölen masumlar terör kurbanı kabul edilirken, terörle savaş saçmalığı adı altında öldürülen masumlar savaş retoriğine kazazede lafıyla geçiştirilirler. Oysa neden eklemez ABD, Dünya Ticaret Merkezin’de öldürülen 3000 masumun üzerine Afganistan’da, Pakistan’da hava saldırılarıyla öldürülen köylülerin sayısını? Onların ölümünden sorumlu olanlar da terörist değiller midir? Peki ya Afganistan’da zevk için insan öldüren askerler? Peki ya Irak’ta mahkumları çırılçıplak soyup, azgın köpeklerin önünde onlarla alay eden Amerikan ordusu mensubu gardiyanlar?

Bin Ladin kendisini Afganistan’da Rus ordusuna karşı eğiten Amerikalılar tarafından öldürülmüştür. Yani işlerine geldikleri süre içerisinde kullanmışlar, büyüttükleri canavar ele avuca sığmaz hale gelince de onu terörist ilan etmişlerdir. Tıpkı Saddam’ı İran’a karşı emniyet sübabı yapmaları, tıpkı Mübarek’i halk devriminden birkaç gün öncesine kadar dost olarak tanımlamaları gibi. Silahı doğrultanlarla silahın doğrultulduğu insanlar hep aynıdır. Güçlü güçsüzün elinde ne varsa alacak, buna karşı çıkanlar olursa onları da ambargolarıyla, dev savaş makineleriyle tuzla buza çevirecektir...

Bugün dünyada terörizm varsa bunun kaynağını gittikçe yoksullaşan, alım gücü azalan halklarda, onların silikleştirilen kültürlerinde ve onları bu hale sürükleyen sistemin godomanlarında aramalıyız. Filistin’i işgal etmeyi sürdüren İsrail var olduğu sürece, Guantanamo’da sorgusuz sualsiz insanlar işkenceye maruz kaldıkları sürece, Libya’ya müdahele kararını tarihinde görülmemiş jet bir hızda alan BM, Suriye’deki olaylara sessiz kaldığı sürece, Hindistan’da Dünya Bankası ve benzeri kurumlar para kazansın diye yerlerinden edilen parasız pulsuz halklar olduğu sürece, maalesef, ellerinden başka bir şey gelmeyen insanlar tarafından terör devam ettirilecektir.

A A

Bu yazi haberjansta 3 Mayis tarihinde yayinlanmistir. http://haberajans.com/bin-ladin-bataklik-ve-sivrisinekler-yazisi-2446.html bagindan yaziya ulasabilirsiniz.

Black Swans in the eyes of a White Swan

The more I study mathematics of finance, the more I feel that what I learn does not make the life easier at all. The whole study of financial mathematics is based on the assumption that what happened in the past will repeat in the same way in the future. If a stock had high volatility in the past, then the price of the option for this underlying stock will be high because it carries high risk. However, no matter how complex mathematics we use to analyze the world of finance and economics, our predictions do not go beyond predictions simply because we do not know the future. However, with the help of complex mathematical jargon and intellectual arrogance, we can easily be convinced that some people with special skills have power to estimate the future movements of the market and can help you make money from betting against the improbable ones.

Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s book “The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable” is all about the criticism of over-mathematisation of the finance and economics. He starts his book with some autobiographical stories; a childhood in Lebanon, war time stories, advantage of having a Levantine heritage and ending up at prestigious Wharton Business School. Of course, he criticizes his formal schooling as it is largely based on Gaussian Bell Curve and Markowitz Portfolio Theory. His main attacking point in the entire book is Gaussian Distribution (Normal Distribution) which is not capable of catching the black swans (extreme rare events) therefore it is useless because history is made of black swans, not the white ones. Revolutions, uprisings, natural disasters, wars, economic recessions are all examples of these black swans which cannot be predicted through conventional statistical tools. Predicting the normal is nothing according to him as it can be done by everyone and it does not give any edge to anyone who can do it. Plus, normal events does not cause any change in the history. They are left to the oblivion shelves of the past.

In one part he writes “Those who spend too much time with their noses glued to maps will tend to mistake the map for the territory.” meaning that our models should not be mixed up with the reality itself. They are only models and should not give us over-confidence. In fact, the book basically reveals that the biggest problem in today’s financial world is the overconfidence on the mathematical models and graphs as if they are really saying something about future. The scientific expressions and mathematical jargon make outsiders intimidated and ultimately keep them away from understanding the black swans.

I cannot say that Normal Distribution should be accused of the market failures or the mathematicians who help building all those financial formulas can be blamed. The problem is the profit-hungry brokers and CEOs who do not understand the assumptions behind all those theorems. In the world of mathematics, we need to platonify everything so that simplified versions can give us simple results. For example, infamous Black&Scholes option pricing formula is nothing but a one-page derivation of option price under the assumption that arbitrage-free and complete markets, efficient markets, constant volatility and interest rates etc. There are at least 10 assumptions for B&S to work efficiently and we all know that this is impossible to happen. Then the decisions which are heavily based on these mathematical formulae will eventually fail. But should we than blame the mathematicians for this? Or the men who take all those assumptions granted without considering that randomness is far from our comprehension and it cannot be tamed with a simple formula.

Besides this, normal distribution is a perfect tool to understand the normal events in our lives. Taleb talks about standard deviation with dismay but never mentions other risk measures which are much more useful to evaluate the risk of loss in the world of finance. For example, expected shortfall with a reasonable confidence level can easily catch the possible black swans in the normal set of events. Naturally, no one can predict the earthquake or the consequences of an earthquake. We can perhaps have large disaster reserves in insurance companies so that in the event of a big disaster the losses will be compensated without making people suffer for long time.

After reading the book, I can only conclude that today’s financial system which allows making huge profits through transferring risk is only a sham but nothing else. I can understand transferring the risk in the time of a loss as it does not benefit anyone but just covers the loss. This is why I think insurance companies should be strictly controlled by the government and should not be allowed to invest their reserves into risky portfolios in search of profit. At the end of the day, the reason for the existence of the insurance company is simply to help people who lose their property/loved one/vehicle/business etc so that society will keep moving without getting interrupted. Therefore, they are not supposed to make huge profits from the money they collect from people who are simply apprehensive about their futures.

I also found his comments on capitalism versus socialism very naïve and ill-informed. His defense for capitalism was nothing but a childish aphorism. Here it is:

“Capitalism is, among other things, the revitalization of the world thanks to the opportunity to be lucky. Luck is the grand equalizer, because almost everyone can benefit from it. The socialist governments protected their monsters and by doing so, killed potential newcomers in the womb. “

Well, here what he says is let the world live in its own luck, let the lucky ones make billions and the rest can live with the income under a dollar a day. He forgets that being unlucky brings suffering, brings tears and blood, brings misery to those unlucky people’s lives. So shouldn’t a responsible government think a solution for these unlucky people and elevate their life standards? If you live the entire world to the luck, what happens is 3% of world population will own more than 80% of the wealth and 97% will share the remaining 20%. Despite some social democracies in some countries, we still have an ongoing injustice and turmoil is most parts of the world. Imagine, when we leave it to mere luck (meaning pure greed) and watch it.

Here is another naive aphorism from the writer: “If people were rewarded strictly according to their abilities, things still be unfair –people don’t choose their abilities. Randomness has the beneficial effect of reshuffling society’s cards, knocking down the big guy.”

But he forgets that it is not the randomness, it is the anger of people which knocks down the big guy. We should neither support the big guy nor knocking him down (it costs lives of innocent people too) as we should only be against the existence of the big guy because by the time he is being knocked down (Think about Egypt: how many years did it take to dethrone Mobarek? How many people, journalists, intellectuals, writers have suffered under his regime?) so many would be perished in one way or other. What we need is not ups and downs, we need happy people with happy futures. We don’t need innovations of iphones or ipads to be happy. We need a secured future in which children can grow up without the fear of nuclear disasters or the toxics of e-waste. The world keeps dumping the e-waste to Africa now (I just watched a documentary about these children who collects copper and steel to burn in the garbage and sell for a few pennies, unlucky ones! huh?).

I would like to imagine if Mr Taleb was not a son of privileged Lebanese family, was not able to attend privileged schools to learn many languages and the tricks of stock markets, was not lucky enough to write books on unlucky people, then would he be thinking in the same way? Yes, he is lucky in his own terms but does this mean that he needs to be blind towards those who are not as fortunate as him. People who are born to poor families, born to an African tribe or to a family in a Libyan desert cannot see the world as he sees and definitely cannot agree with him. How unlucky Mr Taleb is that he cannot be with majority of the people but only supports a few privileged lucky ones. Changing his definition of the black and white swans, I can call him a lucky white swan who thinks that the unlucky black swans need to exist forever and interrupting nature's randomness will make things worse. Therefore, one should ask "why do we have empathy, why do we need to help others, why do have the feelings like mercy, compassion, tolerance? If nature made us greedy -I don't believe it despite the avalanche of discovery channel documentaries on wild animals- then why do we need to have peaceful societies, international rules, sports events? At the end, the book is full of aphorisms of a white swan on why black swans should stay as black. I agree with the criticism of epistemological arrogance of finance minded people but since the book does not offer any solution to the problems of the world other than the writer's over confidence on mathematics and statistics, I consider it as a failure, yet it sold millions of copies. So what? Harry Potter sold even more!!!

PS: He seems he does not know anything about Central Limit Theorem as he never mentions it. The reason Gaussian Bell Curve is used largely in today's world is not the variables fit to normal distributions. The reason is when we take a large sample from any set of data, the sum of the values in any possible sample can be approximated by a normal distribution. Therefore, nature does not need to be normal for us to communicate through normal distribution. I think, he is not a mathematician and he just learnt the formulae of financial mathematic to apply to his portfolio, I can forgive him. However, talking about great Mathematicians like Gauss, Galileo, Russell in a way he is better than them makes me angry. I am sure it will make any decent mathematician angry to hear those comments from a man who is only a stock broker and a rich man, yet calling himself philosopher.

The Wall of Love

The Wall of Love

Was it you or my loneliness or the melancholy of the rain?
In this blind darkness of the city, we open our rusty eyes to love
On our lips, curses and itchiness left from the previous night.

Galleries, beggars, motorbike honks, paddies and art-lovers

My ambition was to take you among people, among the mirrors
A drunken flower on your chest, a drunken number in my head.
My loneliness, my sloppy lover, my never-ending pain!
The more we are disgraced in this dirty world, the better

We loitered in the pubs of the city, swang like monkeys
With peanuts and beer before us… Songs of pleasure in our tongues
And moral police at the corner; in the mornings, at every shore
My guardian saints would find my carcass in the gutters
Hot as the garbage-collectors' hands, hot as your breasts
With their hands I chased your soul, with their hands I found you
My loneliness, my bristle-haired beauty, my unsolvable puzzle
The more we stink in this poignant universe, the better

I looked in the sky, a red flash, a plane and a sign for happiness
Steel and stars and pain and tears and human beings galore
One night we jumped over the wall of love to touch the sky
Where I fell was so clear so open and so widely understood
You were at my side, and the planets and the sun and the moon
I don’t count the ones I killed and I let them get resurrected.

O loneliness, my plural songs, the owner of my shackles…
The more we can live without the keys, the better.

A. A. - Appropriated from Can Yücel's poem with the same title.

Cycling Photos

I cannot concentrate on writing these days due to my approaching actuarial exams. It will be like this two more weeks and I will be back to my normal form. Till 22nd of April, I will try to stay away from my blog unless something very exciting happens and urges me to write about.

Today I went cycling in the afternoon after studying Financial Engineering for more than 4 hours. I took some photos. They are not many because I did not go too far. Maybe about 30 km in total for one and a half hour brain-stopping experience...