¿Quién es el país?

Sí, lo sé, tengo el blog abandonado. Pero cuando lo saco a pasear escribo cosas chachis y eso compensa. O deberá compensar. Bueno, al lío:

No soy capaz, creo, de contar nada que no se sepa de Mark Twain. Pero, quizás, sí que pueda reproducir un texto suyo de un libro que no llegó a publicarse llamado “Glances at History”. Y es un fragmento que me encanta. Desde la primera vez que lo leí, hace ya 10 años, hasta hoy, más emocionante que nunca dada la dudosa deriva que —a todos los niveles— sufren la democracia occidental en general y la española en particular. Deberíamos sentirnos obligados en cierta manera por Twain. Porque, como bien dice, ir contra tus convicciones es ser un traidor. Tanto a ti mismo como a tu país. Y en España por un puñado de votos cambiamos de convicción como de chaqueta.

Hasta aquí he llegado yo. Ahora os dejo con el maestro.

I pray you to pause and consider. Against our traditions we are now entering upon an unjust and trivial war, a war against a helpless people, and for a base object–robbery. At first our citizens spoke out against this thing, by an impulse natural to their training. Today they have turned, and their voice is the other way. What caused the change? Merely a politician’s trick–a high-sounding phrase, a blood-stirring phrase which turned their uncritical heads: Our Country, right or wrong! An empty phrase, a silly phrase. It was shouted by every newspaper, it was thundered from the pulpit, the Superintendent of Public Instruction placarded it in every schoolhouse in the land, the War Department inscribed it upon the flag. And every man who failed to shout it or who was silent, was proclaimed a traitor–none but those others were patriots. To be a patriot, one had to say, and keep on saying, “Our Country, right or wrong,” and urge on the little war. Have you not perceived that that phrase is an insult to the nation?

For in a republic, who is “the Country”? Is it the Government which is for the moment in the saddle? Why, the Government is merely a servant–merely a temporary servant; it cannot be its prerogative to determine what is right and what is wrong, and decide who is a patriot and who isn’t. Its function is to obey orders, not originate them. Who, then, is “the Country”? Is it the newspaper? is it the pulpit? is it the school superintendent? Why, these are mere parts of the country, not the whole of it; they have not command, they have only their little share in the command. They are but one in the thousand; it is in the thousand that command is lodged; they must determine what is right and what is wrong; they must decide who is a patriot and who isn’t.

mark-twain[1]

El tito Twain

Who are the thousand–that is to say, who are “the Country”? In a monarchy, the king and his family are the country; in a republic it is the common voice of the people. Each of you, for himself, by himself and on his own responsibility, must speak. And it is a solemn and weighty responsibility, and not lightly to be flung aside at the bullying of pulpit, press, government, or the empty catch-phrases of politicians. Each must for himself alone decide what is right and what is wrong, and which course is patriotic and which isn’t. You cannot shirk this and be a man. To decide it against your convictions is to be an unqualified and inexcusable traitor, both to yourself and to your country, let men label you as they may. If you alone of all the nation shall decide one way, and that way be the right way according to your convictions of the right, you have done your duty by yourself and by your country–hold up your head! You have nothing to be ashamed of.

Only when a republic’s life is in danger should a man uphold his government when it is in the wrong. There is no other time.

This Republic’s life is not in peril. The nation has sold its honor for a phrase. It has swung itself loose from its safe anchorage and is drifting, its helm is in pirate hands. The stupid phrase needed help, and it got another one: “Even if the war be wrong we are in it and must fight it out: we cannot retire from it without dishonor.” Why, not even a burglar could have said it better. We cannot withdraw from this sordid raid because to grant peace to those little people on their terms–independence–would dishonor us. You have flung away Adam’s phrase–you should take it up and examine it again. He said, “An inglorious peace is better than a dishonorable war.”

You have planted a seed, and it will grow.

Y como despedida unos minutos musicales con un clásico del oeste americano. Esta versión en concreto, a pesar de formar parte de la banda sonora de un videojuego, es la que más me gusta de las decenas que he ido escuchando con los años: Oh, death.

 

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