Things one sees from there

Let's suppose for a moment that you were  born in a small town in Germany. Or Marseilles. Or even  further away - New Zealand. Yes, New Zealand.

And what’s wrong with New Zealand? Green hills, peace and harmony, sheep, snow-capped peaks and soaring cliffs.

Of course you didn’t grow up surrounded by the untamed natural vistas for which New Zealand is famous. Most likely you were raised in one of the suburbs of Wellington, the gray and dull capital city. In a nice little bungalow with large rooms, wall-to-wall carpeting and a fireplace with a chimney that has long since become blocked up due to lack of use. Your father is an accountant, your mother a teacher. You have an older brother and a younger sister. There’s no dog, but there’s a pampered white cat. And two cars in the garage. 

They named you Timothy, Robert or maybe Caitlin, but everyone calls you Tim, Rob or Kate. Like everyone else, you went to the local school and amused yourself on warm afternoons by riding your skateboard. In the evenings, you went to the cinema with a few friends to see the latest Hollywood film. You watched avidly as the ill-treated Bruce Wayne grew up to become Batman, pursuer of justice. Or maybe you preferred older films, like the one about Luke, from the farm on the remote planet, who became the greatest Jedi knight. One thing you know for sure: The world belongs to the underdog. Because where’s the drama in a story about a character whose heroic future is obvious to everyone? Give us some dungeons, school bullies and shattered dreams.

So between comics, movies and computer games you graduated from high school. You wondered, like everyone else, what you should study at university. Absentmindedly, you checked a few options on your application form. Que sera, sera. In the end you were accepted to the University of Canterbury, or Otago or maybe even Auckland. You took out a low interest student loan from the bank, to repay after you finish your degree. Or maybe your parents gave you tuition money. As long as you don’t have to work for a living while you’re studying diligently for your degree in chemistry, philosophy or psychology. You live in a drafty rented house with six other students. The fridge is full of cheap Tui beer and the dishes in the sink haven’t been washed for a week. There’s a poster of Jimi Hendrix on the bathroom wall and a small television in the living room. All in all, you’re doing pretty well. Your class assignments aren’t particularly difficult, and every week there’s a free screening of a Hollywood film at the campus auditorium. You even found a girlfriend – a French girl who’s here on a student exchange. She’s a nice girl, even though you’re not too sure you’re into French rap. The Lemonheads are much more your thing.

And in the evenings you all sit in the living room, everyone with his laptop, checking your email and typing your assignments in Word and planning your future. And the future looks pretty good. Maybe you’ll do a graduate degree – the scholarships flow like water, and drought has never been a problem in New Zealand. Maybe you’ll go traveling around the world. Or live in England for a few years. Or Australia. Maybe you’ll just find a job. The unemployment that resulted from the global economic crisis a few years ago has dissipated, and New Zealand is desperate for young, educated minds.

And you are educated, there’s no doubt about that. You read avidly and keep your finger on the pulse of world events. The president of Iran, famine in Africa, Tony Blair, North Korea, human trafficking – and the conflict in the Middle East, of course. Of course.

Like everyone else, you saw the piles of rubble in Beirut on television, and the photo of the pillars of smoke in the newspaper. Later you understood that the photo was photoshopped, not that that makes much of a difference. After all, your French girlfriend has relatives in Beirut. By a miracle they were rescued from the bombardments of the Israeli army, which only understands the language of force. Just like that, for no reason, they invaded a foreign country, trampled on the rights of the indigenous residents and achieved independence at their expense. If they were a little less aggressive, they might learn from the British how to absorb territories. Who knows better than them? But no, the Israelis prefer to plunder, to oppress and to murder. Terrorists. And not just ordinary terrorists, but terrorists that are supported by the United States – which, as everyone knows, is the source of all evil.

The brutal capitalism of the United States makes you feel like vomiting, and not for nothing do you sleep with the writings of Noam Chomsky under your pillow. Actually, you used to be a Marxist – but then you understood that Marxism wasn’t relevant in a world without a proletariat. The proletariat of today is the foreign worker, who chose of his own accord to immigrate and bring his wretched fate upon himself. So you abandoned Marx with contempt, and the only thing you retained was his attitude toward nationality. Nationality, you have understood, is a bad thing. And the only thing that will save the world from complete annihilation is freedom from the fetters of the nation state. If a foreign army were to invade New Zealand, you claim, destroy Wellington and Rotoura and even end up knocking on your door in Christ Church, you would surrender. What’s the point of going to battle in the name of political interests? Your ass is much more valuable. Anyway, the only war you ever experienced was for the world cup in rugby. Which, in any case, you haven’t won since 1987. And did anything bad happen as a result of that?

So what’s Israel’s problem? With all its capital and all the latest weapons, why won’t it give the Palestinians a state? They’re such an oppressed people, you think, while watching the children of Jenin staring out of your television screen. They live in refugee camps, their olive trees are stolen from them and they are forced to make do with old-fashioned Russian missiles that usually miss their targets. It’s no wonder that their grief and boredom lead them to commit extreme acts like suicide bombings. And their brave leaders – they do so much for them! They raise money from France to build more palaces and open more bank accounts in Switzerland because, as everyone knows, money is important. But what can they do when the other side – Israel – attacks them incessantly using terrorist methods? Can’t the Israelis just for one moment put aside their bleeding pride and march toward a new day – one without weapons, nationality, walls and bullying?

Because as long as they remain intransigent, they stand to lose more. All their highly developed armaments and the strong back of America, the biggest military power in the world, will never triumph over the blazing Palestinian eyes, the dusty green scarf, and poetic justice!

And you know you are right. You grew up, like the rest of your generation, on the deeds of superheroes, and on Hollywood films, and in the evening when you watch the news from around the world, while hugging your French girlfriend with one arm and holding a can of beer in your free hand, you know with absolute certainty that there is no other solution – the underdog must be victorious.