This nation is not new to typhoons and all other calamities in the past. The fact that this nation is staring right into the Pacific is ominous enough. More recently, Myanmar had its own taste of what we have to endure for certain parts of the year.
It was perhaps a frightening sight. With bodies huddled together against the cold while the rain and wind ravaged everything that stood in its way, the people of Myanmar were literally thrown at the mercy of cyclone Nargis. Proof to nature’s wrath, the ruins left in the wake of the storm cast a serious reminder of how a military rule and the ruled remain helpless against the untamable forces of nature. Come to think of it, not even a democracy, or an autocracy, can withstand the lashing of a weather gone mad.
Myanmar—also referred to as Burma—remains under the military junta headed by Than Shwe and his Tatmadaw or military organization. Than Shwe’s infamous reputation roots from the killings under his rule, the bane of which is spurred from his wanton efforts to crush the prodemocracy bloc and those who are brave enough to shed faint signs of hostility, real or imagined, against him. The National League for Democracy in Myanmar, led by Aung San Suu Kyi, remains at the helm of the opposition, at least ideologically, against Shwe’s military rule. Here we have the classic struggle between two disparate ideologies and two divergent leaders with one out to deter the other from rightfully claiming the people’s mandate. And even literally pounding the limbs and skinning the flesh of those who have sacrificed their lives before the altar, or dream, of a jubilant democracy. But despite all the efforts mounted to brazen down the citadel of a military rule, the filth and gore of the junta continue to persist from dusk ‘til dawn.
With that leadership and with the devastation wrought by cyclone Nargis, the sight becomes more frightening.
Quite frankly, I’m left with the thought as to which is truly drenched with fury: the wrath of man, not the least a madman, or the wrath of nature. Of course, one is hastened to put the corollary this way: that the wrath of man, not the least a madman, does not stand a chance against the wrath of nature. That is so because thunder growling from the high heavens and lightning swooping down from the skies can scare the living daylights out of the callous hearts of men and can set afire an entire community, if not an entire civilization, without warning. That is so because twisters can break bones and obliterate concrete and metal with the searing violence of its ravaging winds. That is so because storms, too, can flood the fields and streets in less than a day. That is so because earthquakes, too, can collapse towering structures that reach toward the sky, sending them back to the ground into fragments and ashes.
Man can barely do so without the help of his machines. Even more so, man can barely do so without the help of other men or the rest of his own kind. Both destruction and creation takes two to tango. It can also require the participation of quite a few others, like an orgasmic ordeal, but that's a different story.
The vengeance of nature can truly summon the deepest fears hiding beneath the cellars of our spirits, or souls. There’s another way of putting it. Hell, or heaven, or purgatory—whichever way you call it—hath no fury than nature scorned.
But the case of Myanmar tells us something more than what meets the eye. Here we have a nation, or a leadership, hesitant to accept the help provided by foreign hands. Here we have a nation, or a leadership, struggling to stand on its knees and remain composed amidst emaciated skins and a wounded pride, still cautious enough, or wary enough, to receive assistance from its proximal and distant neighbors. The military junta continues to refuse the help being extended by its relatives, relatives by virtue of belonging to the same brethren of humanity. It keeps a watchful eye to those who look upon their nation, or their leadership, as unable to provide for the needs of its withered people hammered in no small way by Nargis. It tells us something more, something that illustrates the point why the madness of minds can truly strip people off of their dim hopes.
After the storm has abated, the men behind Myanmar’s military junta exemplifies the case where the wrath of nature is yet unable to shaken the knees and pride of its leaders. That is the wrath of man unmoved by the wrath of nature. Call it insane, but it’s the least sign of insanity. It goes beyond that. More than insanity, it’s the worst sign of corruption. It’s the worst sign of the corruption of the spirit, or soul, or whatever you call that abstract part of the self. It’s the worst sign of the callousness of the heart. It’s the worst sign of wielding power and using that power to deflect the material objects which could sustain lives, even the wretched ones, in a dire time like this. It’s the worst sign of being human at the very least. It's the worst sign of becoming human at the very most.
Than Shwe's dangerous ploy of isolating Myanmar from the rest of the world is taking its toll on the nation, glaring and damning as it has now become. Cyclone Nagris puts his theory to the test, and sure enough, the consequences only highlight what a stringent military rule cajoled by the idea of isolation can bestow upon its people.
When you have leaders like these, leaders who are more than willing to cut-off your lifelines and deliver you closer to your death, dim hopes are exponentially dimmed.
It was perhaps a frightening sight. With bodies huddled together against the cold while the rain and wind ravaged everything that stood in its way, the people of Myanmar were literally thrown at the mercy of cyclone Nargis. Proof to nature’s wrath, the ruins left in the wake of the storm cast a serious reminder of how a military rule and the ruled remain helpless against the untamable forces of nature. Come to think of it, not even a democracy, or an autocracy, can withstand the lashing of a weather gone mad.
Myanmar—also referred to as Burma—remains under the military junta headed by Than Shwe and his Tatmadaw or military organization. Than Shwe’s infamous reputation roots from the killings under his rule, the bane of which is spurred from his wanton efforts to crush the prodemocracy bloc and those who are brave enough to shed faint signs of hostility, real or imagined, against him. The National League for Democracy in Myanmar, led by Aung San Suu Kyi, remains at the helm of the opposition, at least ideologically, against Shwe’s military rule. Here we have the classic struggle between two disparate ideologies and two divergent leaders with one out to deter the other from rightfully claiming the people’s mandate. And even literally pounding the limbs and skinning the flesh of those who have sacrificed their lives before the altar, or dream, of a jubilant democracy. But despite all the efforts mounted to brazen down the citadel of a military rule, the filth and gore of the junta continue to persist from dusk ‘til dawn.
With that leadership and with the devastation wrought by cyclone Nargis, the sight becomes more frightening.
Quite frankly, I’m left with the thought as to which is truly drenched with fury: the wrath of man, not the least a madman, or the wrath of nature. Of course, one is hastened to put the corollary this way: that the wrath of man, not the least a madman, does not stand a chance against the wrath of nature. That is so because thunder growling from the high heavens and lightning swooping down from the skies can scare the living daylights out of the callous hearts of men and can set afire an entire community, if not an entire civilization, without warning. That is so because twisters can break bones and obliterate concrete and metal with the searing violence of its ravaging winds. That is so because storms, too, can flood the fields and streets in less than a day. That is so because earthquakes, too, can collapse towering structures that reach toward the sky, sending them back to the ground into fragments and ashes.
Man can barely do so without the help of his machines. Even more so, man can barely do so without the help of other men or the rest of his own kind. Both destruction and creation takes two to tango. It can also require the participation of quite a few others, like an orgasmic ordeal, but that's a different story.
The vengeance of nature can truly summon the deepest fears hiding beneath the cellars of our spirits, or souls. There’s another way of putting it. Hell, or heaven, or purgatory—whichever way you call it—hath no fury than nature scorned.
But the case of Myanmar tells us something more than what meets the eye. Here we have a nation, or a leadership, hesitant to accept the help provided by foreign hands. Here we have a nation, or a leadership, struggling to stand on its knees and remain composed amidst emaciated skins and a wounded pride, still cautious enough, or wary enough, to receive assistance from its proximal and distant neighbors. The military junta continues to refuse the help being extended by its relatives, relatives by virtue of belonging to the same brethren of humanity. It keeps a watchful eye to those who look upon their nation, or their leadership, as unable to provide for the needs of its withered people hammered in no small way by Nargis. It tells us something more, something that illustrates the point why the madness of minds can truly strip people off of their dim hopes.
After the storm has abated, the men behind Myanmar’s military junta exemplifies the case where the wrath of nature is yet unable to shaken the knees and pride of its leaders. That is the wrath of man unmoved by the wrath of nature. Call it insane, but it’s the least sign of insanity. It goes beyond that. More than insanity, it’s the worst sign of corruption. It’s the worst sign of the corruption of the spirit, or soul, or whatever you call that abstract part of the self. It’s the worst sign of the callousness of the heart. It’s the worst sign of wielding power and using that power to deflect the material objects which could sustain lives, even the wretched ones, in a dire time like this. It’s the worst sign of being human at the very least. It's the worst sign of becoming human at the very most.
Than Shwe's dangerous ploy of isolating Myanmar from the rest of the world is taking its toll on the nation, glaring and damning as it has now become. Cyclone Nagris puts his theory to the test, and sure enough, the consequences only highlight what a stringent military rule cajoled by the idea of isolation can bestow upon its people.
When you have leaders like these, leaders who are more than willing to cut-off your lifelines and deliver you closer to your death, dim hopes are exponentially dimmed.
|