17 October 2015

A Matter of Conscience

Nobody had noticed it. It wasn’t that his name had popped up in the news, because he had decided to let this chalice pass by, so technically, everything had been fine, except that for those few days during which he had not acted, he had felt as if i) he was not important enough for anyone to notice it (but that was only a very marginal sensation, one that was nearly inexistent and he himself had almost not been aware of sensing it; it was simply impossible for his ego to claim so much room for ulterior motives after years of hard work to keep it in check) and, after he had made up his mind and finally had joined the list ii) as if he had cheated. As if he was a fraud. Which was ridiculous, of course.

He hadn’t done anything wrong that could cast a shadow on him or his decision or the ulterior motives behind his decision. It had been an answer to a question of self-respect. He had done exactly what his sense of responsibility had expected him to do. Nevertheless, as a consequence of those subtle feelings, he now felt this suffocation gripping his chest and giving him trouble to breathe. Also, the thoughts coming to his mind kept going in circles. The consequence weren’t incessant sleepless nights yet, but his blood pressure certainly was higher than usual.

It wasn’t that he suddenly had the feeling that it had been completely wrong. It had been a well-considered decision. He had evaluated it back and forth, and to his understanding, in this case nobody in this world had the right to judge his moral stance or assess his ethical responsibilities. It had been completely up to him. In the end, it had been nobody but him who had put in the effort, sweat and hard work, who had gone through endless phases of self-doubt and almost unbearable challenges, which had sometimes left him in states of emotional and physical devastation. It was no one but him, who had experienced those days, on which he didn’t know how to make ends meet, how to pay his rent or food bills, while others somewhere deep down had admired him but also had deemed his endeavours daydreaming and an unrealistic take on life  – just imagine if all of them had ignored their liabilities and pursued their dreams, passions or crazy ideas instead.

The Ceremony surely had made his parents proud. Especially after they had already given up on him altogether and he had not really cared any longer what they had thought of him, expected or said. Even his father, who – not in an outspoken but in a subliminal manner – had always preferred his brother, had almost shed a tear during the Ceremony, and his mother had looked at him with this gleam in her eyes, the same gleam she had had when he had won that poetry competition centuries ago, which now was completely forgotten and of no importance any longer, but then it had meant the world to her and to him as well. His brother hadn’t shown up on the day of the Award.

Not that he had always been driven by altruistic motives or something like that, he rather had been self-centered and unrelenting in his manners and opinions, which probably was what had made him persistent enough to go through with his shit and endure those years and had earned him the Award in the first place, however, now it seemed that being self-centered, i.e. telling others to fuck off bec. it was none of their business, might harm not only others but also him and his reputation - not that he had ever really cared about what others said or thought of him, but he had the feeling that his steps needed careful consideration.

The list had been growing, every day he had read new names in the news.

Acting out and crossing the street against the light did not always end in painful or life-changing experiences, sometimes it ended in no experience at all, i.e. nothing happened, no car would be crashing into you, no accident would be caused, no old man would pop up out of the blue raising his fist or walking stick, shouting at you, trying to regulate your behaviour: one would just cross the street and walk on, unseen, unnoticed.

A few here and there already raised their voices and claimed that those on the list had been acting out of sheer craving for attention. Some started questioning what they aimed to achieve by opting out apart from creating attention for a list of those, who had opted out. He had never been a fan of bustling and jumping with high waves. Could staying silent and remaining in the background have been the more humble or wiser decision?

One never knew which direction political currents would take and which consequences it could have for the fate of individuals, especially those who had made themselves visible; not that he feared any of it, he was merely aware. Who was going to take a stance for such individuals when it came to matters of life and death? apart from individuals of that group of individuals itself, and as history had shown that often was nothing but a romantic thought either. But for decades, people in his position had taken the lead and churned awareness, spoken out against systems that were foreseeably going to twist the inherent worth of a person’s dignity and human values in such a manner that it seemed to be irrefutably justifiable that people of different race, caste, gender or religion all had the rights, duties and degrees of freedom the ruling class deemed appropriate for them. After all, wasn’t also freedom of speech at stake here?  And wasn’t clinging to decorations equivalent to being materialistic, i.e., to revealing what could be deemed a morally reprehensible characteristic? Especially decorations received for contributions that touched issues reaching into ethical territories, which weren’t given to a person but the cause the person stood for, didn’t leave room for hesitation. Nobody in his position should have hesitated or have had reasons for a minute of doubt.

The decision to return the Award had been nothing but simply a matter of conscience.



Art: Paul Klee