The time for the Third Secularism is here. First there was the separation of Church and State. This ended the powerful influence of the Church on governments and people at the end of the Middle Ages. We all know, of course that this struggle took centuries and by some measures is far from over. The Twentieth century brought the Second Secularism, the separation of Military and State, successful in many countries, though not in all. In the USA, the division of power prevents a military take over, – we hope! However, in many countries the military is still firmly in power. The ongoing struggle of the Twenty First century will become known as the Third Secularism, the separation of state and corporations. Today corporate influence on governments around the world is as powerful and controlling as the Church was by the end of the Middle Ages.  The Third Secularism needs you! If we want true democracy, of the people and for the people, we must build a firewall between corporate money and elected representatives.

This is an extremely important question. It involves values and value preservation. In a society that moves rapidly toward consumerism it is the country folk who loose, but that is only the surface. In the end we all loose if city culture swallows country life. Consumerism lures peasants and the rural poor into the cities with the promise of jobs, higher wages and an increased consumption of goods.  The reality of this rural flight to the cities in search of a better life is often discouraging. It can be observed in many mega-cities all over this world, from Buenos Aires, to Casablanca and Calcutta. The rural migrants often live in primitive Shanty towns under miserable conditions. Work is scarce, especially for those who have nothing left to sell except their bodies and their labor. They have lost the little piece of land that “back home” they were able to work, grow vegetables and perhaps keep a goat or some chickens. Lost is their supportive community and often lost is their happiness.

Collective Orchestration, as I have described it, is not in itself necessarily positive. It is a technology nature uses that sometimes can turn against itself and become destructive. A good example is perhaps the growth of cancer cells in a body. Cancer cells follow the same principle a healthy cell tissue follows. They cooperate with the goal to grow bigger. But cancer cells do not live within a larger system of cells and cooperate with it. They are out to destroy it. The previously healthy human body, incapable of fighting back, becomes ill. The human immune system resists the invader, but all to often the invader wins and the larger system is destroyed. This is an example for the process of Collective Orchestration to turn against its own hosting system. Consumerism is like a cancer within the system of society, and our world community. If people, infected and obsessed with mindless consumption, win the upper hand it will destroy our human community and eco system.

I am not saying we should not consume at all. But we must consume wisely and with moderation. These are values that can easily be found among peasants and country folk. A farmer cannot and will not over-plant and over-use the land, but will handle his resources wisely in order for the land to continue giving. Consumerism purposefully creates false hopes and paints a utopian mirage consisting of shiny automobiles that are built in a way that they fall apart fast, so the consumer has to go and spend his hard earned money on another throw- away item. From my own experience I have learned the values of caring for the land. I was an organic farmer for 13 years. From Native Americans I have learn that in our decision-making process we must keep an eye on the effect we will have on the next seven generation, not just on the immediate gratification and the pocket book.

Consumption and city life in itself is not absolutely bad. It’s just that in the integration process the country to city relationship is lopsided. The country folk are often silent partners and voiceless witnesses of their own destruction. We, who live in the city must take great care not to wipe out completely the values and achievements of our country culture, which at one time all our ancestors shared.

After a long flight we are back home in the USA. We are greeted with the headlines of a terrible shooting in Tucson. Six innocent bystanders dead. Target of the rampage: Democratic congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords. Welcome home. During a lecture I attend the next day at my former college, I am asking myself the question: What is home? During the European Enlightenment people like Schiller and Goethe had the lofty idea to become “citizens of the world.” Today this is more achievable than in any other time in history. I have always made it my goal to feel at home in many different countries. Born in Czechoslovakia, raised in Germany, and living for most of my adult life in the USA, I feel at home in Morocco, Poland, the Ukraine, China and a few other places. Well, not really at home. The truth is, I don’t really know what home means. The lecture I attended by Ibu Patel, a former student of mine who is now Presidential advisor for interfaith dialogue, circled around the question of home. Ibu said he likes to come home to Chicago, the city his parents had emigrated to coming from India. I like Chicago, but is it really my home? My son Daniel has a different take. He and his wife were with us on the tip through Morocco. During the last days my wife mentioned that it will be good to go home. Daniel pointed at his wife Andrea and said: Whereever she is, that’s my home. That is mostly the case for me, too. It’s people that are close to you, people you love, that make a home.

About eight times I guided tours of students from America through the wonderland Morocco. Each time we hit Majid’s Place, which was really called Repos the Sable, Resting Place in the Sand, I found those American students transform in front of my eyes. Within a day or two, everyone adopted to an atmosphere of unstructured creativity and simple joy. Back then, in 1998, when I was here last, it was literally the place “at the end of the road.” After it the great Sahara sand dunes began, stretching for a thousand miles, till you reach Mauretania or Timbuktu. Today the paved road has been extended for about eighty more kilometers at which point the GPS in our car announces: “You have reached the end of the road.” New four and five star resorts have outdated my romantic hideout. Mass tourism appears to have stretched its reach into the forbidding and of the desert. Tourists for Around the world are dropped from air planes and helicopters and continue their journey into the desert in air conditioned Hummers.

When my boys and I arrived at Majid’s place, of which we had such fond memories, we found the place deserted, a dying corpse of a former superb aesthetic experience. A few words about its history: Majid was one of three brothers, whose mother was a well-known painter of naïve Bedouin art, with exhibits all over Europe and even in New York. Her sons, two of them had inherited her aesthetic sensitivity, but each in a different form. Majid considered himself a sculptor of nomad life. The two brothers founded and operated Repos de Sable, a desert hide out complete with sculptors and original paintings in every nook and cranny. Repos de Sable was featured on world TV, including a stint on the American Globe Tracker program. There was a swimming pool filled with water from the sandy depth of the oasis and music was played every night., Majid drumming his heart out. Often a joint was passed around freely, introducing our students to a completely different way of life.

When we arrived there two days ago, two sad Bedouins, who recognized me immediately from my earlier visits, greeted us and offered us tea. But, there was no doubt in our minds, all the charm had left and the two men appeared like two ghosts from the past. The pool was empty, little was left of the art works that once proudly decorated the walls, and was left had been desecrated or destroyed, like the wall painting above, featured on one of the wooden doors. It now has prive for private scribbled over the art.

My boys and I drove away in silence, nearly crying. The sadness in the me’s eyes, we found out, was not so much caused by the death of an era or even of art, we found out that mom, the famous artist had passed away in Rabat only three days ago. Majid himself only returns here rarely. The death of a great woman, of art and a place of aesthetic repose had closed forever, – unless some investor comes along and revives this piece of desert history before it completely returns to the sand.

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.

Crunchy numbers

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 6,100 times in 2010. That’s about 15 full 747s.

In 2010, there were 35 new posts, not bad for the first year! There were 36 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 13mb. That’s about 3 pictures per month.

The busiest day of the year was January 27th with 282 views. The most popular post that day was Perspectivist Manifesto.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were mmdnewswire.com, bb.cod.edu, facebook.com, mail.yahoo.com, and digg.com.

Some visitors came searching, mostly for god, transcendental perspectivism, werner krieglstein, bacteria, and perspectivism.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.

Perspectivist Manifesto January 2010
1 comment

Publications January 2010

Nudity, A Gay Rooster, and an Eleven Year Old Sex Offender. February 2010
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Links January 2010

Time (Part Two): God and Time May 2010