Qualche tempo fa mi capitò leggere un saggio circa la vita di Barack Obama; ancora prima di essere eletto presidente degli Stati Uniti, quando ancora nel 2004 si presentò candidato al Senato Federale, Barack Obama, ottenuta la vittoria alle primarie democratiche e affermatosi figura di spicco nel partito Democratico, terrà un discorso,keynote address, nel quale farà riferimento alla prefazione della Dichiarazione d’Indipendenza degli Stati Uniti d’America, documento firmato il 4 luglio 1776,che vuole 13 delle colonie britanniche dell’America Settendrionale indipendenti dall’Impero Britannico. Dice Barack Obama
I stand here today, grateful for the diversity of my heritage, aware that my parents’ dreams live on in my precious daughters. I stand here knowing that my story is part of the larger American story, that I owe a debt to all of those who came before me, and that, in no other country on earth, is my story even possible. Tonight, we gather to affirm the greatness of our nation, not because of the height of our skyscrapers, or the power of our military, or the size of our economy. Our pride is based on a very simple premise, summed up in a declaration made over two hundred years ago, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights. That among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”
E continua il testo della Dichiarazione
That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.
Questo il preambolo della Dichiarazione,il fulcro di un testamento universale: agli uomini spettano diritti, quando un governo viola questi diritti,gli uomini hanno il diritto, fra gli altri, di modificare o abolire, alter or abolish, quel governo.
Questo, anche, il principio che definisce the Right of revolution, curiosamente in italiano tradotto Diritto di Resistenza, e cito da wikipedia*
Il diritto di resistenza discende anche dal contrattualismo e dalla teoria politica di John Locke [..] Se i governanti calpestano i diritti naturali, vengono meno i fondamenti del patto e si configura il diritto del popolo a resistere.
Right of revolution, o right of rebellion-in inglese;diritto di resistenza-in italiano.
Chiedo a mister wikipedia di spiegarmi cosa intende per right of revolution,e questi mi risponde
-In political philosophy, the right of revolution (or right of rebellion) is the right or duty, variously stated throughout history, of the people of a nation to overthrow a government that acts against their common interests. Belief in this right extends back to ancient China, and it has been used throughout history to justify various rebellions, including the American Revolution and the French Revolution.
Dunque il diritto di rivoluzione, o diritto di ribellione, sarebbe, secondo la filosofia politica, il diritto del popolo di una nazione a rovesciare (ribaltare) un governo che agisce contro l’interesse comune.
Secondo la dichiarazione di indipendenza,io, giovane donna americana, ho il diritto di ribellione, il diritto di ribellarmi. Suona bene. Suona liberatorio. Qualcuno stabilisce ribellarsi è un diritto, e io che sono incazzata, mi ribello, ho diritto a incazzarmi e a ribellarmi. Se non da sola, insieme a un gruppo di altri incazzati e ribelli, io ho il diritto a ribaltare un governo.
Mi chiedo cosa manca, allora, a rendere un diritto,il dovere.Cosa trattiene ciascuno dall’esercitare questo diritto.Cosa trattiene ciascuno dall’esercitare questo dovere.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights. That among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Vita.Libertà.Ricerca della Felicità.Valori universali,patrimonio dell’umanità tutta.
Mi pare di sentire Peter Finch in Quinto Potere ( e mi esalto)
Sono incazzata nera, e tutto questo non l’accetterò più!
Ahh liberatorio
La settimana scorsa sono stata a un meeting di lavoro; la compagnia ne organizza uno al mese in ognuno degli stores.Gli argomenti trattati durante il meeting ruotano intorno certi aggiornamenti promozionali introdotti nel mercato dalla compagnia( offerte, lancio nuovi prodotti, promozioni, aggiornamento prezzi [da un anno a questa parte pari l’inflazione in rialzo nel mercato di tutto il paese. In parole concrete, un aumento- leggevo sull’Indipendent- pari a qualcosa come da 5 a 15 p sulla maggior parte dei prodotti alimentari e da distribuzione. Aumentati anche i costi degli affitti e dei trasporti. Qui Uk]) e altre rotture che riguardano più nello specifico l’andamento dello store, del team.
L’altra sera argomento centrale del meeting, l’ottimizzazione dei tempi di lavoro.
Bisogna ottimizzare i tempi. Metti il tempo un’arancia e i minuti gli spicchi. Bisogna che noi si sprema gli spicchi di quell’arancia fino all’ultima delle gocce e alla metà dei secondi necessari a farlo.Se per fare un espresso ci vogliono 15 secondi-15,in ordine all’ottimizzazione dei tempi,io, in 15 secondi devo:

1)attenermi alle 4 golden priorities dell’Onnisciente Barista (customer is the King,on top)
2)seguire diligentemente i 6 customer service steps
3)prendere altre 3 ordinazioni
4)far pagare il cliente
5)timbrargli la loyalty card
6) augurargli una buona giornata
e who is the next? avanti un altro
Questo vuol dire, ottimizzare i tempi. Quindici secondi moltiplicato 2 fa mezzo minuto, mezzo minuto moltiplicato 2 fa un minuto. Un minuto moltiplicato 60 fa un’ora, un’ora moltiplicata 8 fa 28800 secondi che mi spremono come un’arancia, al minimo sindacale e al massimo dell’imbarbarimento, selvaggio, nevrotico,bulimico,del capitalismo aziendale. 28800 secondi che mi spremo le meningi e immagino altrove, da qualche parte al sicuro,metti in montagna, in giacca di lana e berretto, a raccogliere funghi e castagne.Aria pulita, silenzio intorno, appena il tossio del vento nell’aria fresca, pace dentro. Simbiosi. Osmosi. Armonia.Che meraviglia.
Certi giorni è un calvario. Lo store in cui lavoro si trova a due passi da una stazione metro e ficcato nel cuore di un quartiere commerciale, uffici intorno, e banche, tante
banche ovunque banche. Banche e banche. L’80 % almeno dei clienti è impiegata nel settore commerciale, finanziario,redditizzio; l’80 % almeno dei clienti conclude affari al bar. Tra un cappuccino, un americano, una chocolate cheesecake, un apple and cinnammon muffin.
Io me li vedo passare davanti tutti, in processione ordinata, con al collo un cappio e in valigetta l’ultima dose buona di cocaina. Drogati di lavoro, di successo, di fama, di denaro.
Produrre Incrementare Ottimizzare Ridurre Accellerare
Strategia Successo Standards Soldi
Produci Consuma Mangia Ammalati
Se è vero che la classe operaia va in paradiso, non resta che di morire e finalmente felici,in linea con gli standards e la dichiarazione.E Amen.
C’è un libro, attento, cerebrale, che ho da poco finito di leggere e trovato incredibilmente interessante; il titolo White Noise, l’autore Don DeLillo, americano di New York; White Noise, d’avvio al realismo isterico nel genere letterario, non si risparmia dal rovistare,a mani nude e con fare analitico, nel torbido della psiche umana,lì dove marciano assurdo e paradossi della società contemporanea. Sebbene scritto nel 1985, White Noise risulta quanto mai attuale, anzi sembra addirittura profetizzare, anticipare i tempi, alla maniera di Orwell in 1984.Leggere White Noise è come riabituare gli occhi alla vista (di ciò che non risulta visibile, ma c’è, è presente, e condiziona la vita di ciascuno)e la mente all’osservazione critica del reale.
Il plot vuole una famiglia americana, allargata, composta da un accademico (Hitler il corso di studi tenuto dal professore), una moglie-regina del focolare domestico, 6 figli. Sottofondo la quotidianità di questa famiglia, l’isteria del capitalismo commerciale,l’impulso all’acquisto convulsivo, bulimico, veicolato, somatico; l’isteria dei sistemi mediatici, la spettacolarizzazione del dolore, dell’assurdo, il diffondersi di un’epidemia sociale, virus panico, ansia, l’onnisciente timore di ammalarsi e morire, ancora l’esplosione di un vagone merci trasportante sostanze chimiche, sintomi deja vu e mancata consapevolezza del reale.A mio avviso un libro meravigliso.
Questa una scheda interessante del libro, in italiano (via casa80.it)
Rumore Bianco (Don DeLillo).
Sotto una parte del libro, tratta dal diciassettesimo capitolo, in inglese

[…]
The family is the cradle of the world’s misinformation. There must be something in family life that generates factual error. Over-closeness, the noise and heat of being. Perhaps something even deeper, like the need to survive. Murray says we are fragile creatures surrounded by a world of hostile facts. Facts threaten our happiness and security. The deeper we delve into the nature of things, the looser our structure may seem to become. The family process works toward sealing off the world. Small errors grow heads, fictions proliferate. I tell Murray that ignorance and confusion can’t possibly be the driving forces behind family solidarity. What an idea, what a subversion. He asks me why the strongest family units exist in the lasts developed societies. Not to know is a weapon of survival, he says. Magic and superstition become entrenched as the powerful orthodoxy of the clan. The family is strongest where objective reality is most likely to be misinterpreted. What a heartless theory, I say. But Murray insists it’s true.
In a huge hardware store at the mall I saw Eric Massingale, a former microchip sales engineer who changed his life by coming out here to join the teaching staff of the computer center at the Hill. He was slim and pale, with a dangerous grin.
“You’re not wearing dark glasses, Jack.”
“I only wear them on campus.”
“I get it.”
We went our separate ways into the store’s deep interior. A great echoing din, as of the extinction of a species of beast, filled the vast space. People bought twenty-two-foot ladders, six kinds of sandpaper, power saws that could fell trees. The aisles were long and bright, filled with oversized brooms, massive sacks of peat and dung, huge Rubbermaid garbage cans. Rope hung like tropical fruits, beautifully braded strands, thick, brown, strong. What a great thing a coil of rope is to look at and feel. I bought fifty feet of Manila hemp just to have it around, show it to my son, talk about where it comes from, how it’s made. People spoke English, Hindi, Vietnamese, related tongues.
I ran into Massingale again at the cash terminals.
“I’ve never seen you off campus, Jack. You look different without your glasses and gown. Where did you get the sweater? Is that a Turkish army sweater? Mail order, right?”
He looked me over, felt the material of the water- repellent jacket I was carrying draped across my arm. Then he backed up, altering his perspective, nodding a little, his grin beginning to take on a self-satisfied look, reflecting some inner calculation.
“I think I know those shoes,” he said.
What did he mean, he knew these shoes?
“You’re a different person altogether.”
“Different in what way, Eric?”
“You won’t take offense?” he said, the grin turning lascivious, rich with secret meaning.
“Of course not. Why would I?”
“Promise you won’t take offense.”
“I won’t take offense.”
“You look so harmless, Jack. A big harmless, aging, indistinct, sort of guy.”
“Why would I take offense?” I said, paying for my rope and hurrying out the door.
The encounter put me in the mood to shop. I found the others and we walked across two parking lots to the main structure in the Mid- Village Mall, a ten-story building arranged around a center court of waterfalls, promenades and gardens, Babette and the kids followed me into the elevator, into the shops set along the tiers, through the emporiums and department stores, puzzled but excited by my desire to buy. When I could not decide between two shirts, they encouraged me to buy both. When I said I was hungry, they fed me pretzels, beer, souvlaki. The two girls scouted ahead, spotting things they thought I might want or need, running back to get me, to clutch my arms, plead with me to follow. They were my guides to endless well-being. People swarmed through the boutiques and gourmet shops. Organ music rose from the great court. We smelled chocolate, popcorn, cologne; we smelled rugs and furs, hanging salamis and deathly vinyl. My family gloried in the event. I was one of them, shopping, at last. They gave me advice, badgered clerks on my behalf. I kept seeing myself unexpectedly in some reflecting surface. We moved from store to store, rejecting not only items in certain departments, not only entire departments but whole stores, mammoth corporations that did not strike our fancy for one reason or another. There was always another store, three floors, eight floors, basement full of cheese graters and paring knives. I shopped with reckless abandon. I shopped for immediate needs and distant contingencies. I shopped for its own sake, looking and touching, inspecting merchandise I had no intention of buying, then buying it. I sent clerks into their fabric books and pattern books to search for elusive designs. I began to grow in value and self-regard. I filled myself out, found new aspects of myself, located a person I’d forgotten existed. Brightness settled around me. We crossed from furniture to men’s wear, walking through cosmetics. Our images appeared on mirrored columns, in glassware and chrome, on TV monitors in security rooms. I traded money for goods. The more money I spent, the less important it seemed. I was bigger than these sums. These sums poured off my skin like so much rain. These sums in fact came back to me in the form of existential credit. I felt expansive, inclined to be sweepingly generous, and told the kids to pick out their Christmas gifts here and now. I gestured in what I felt was an expensive manner. I could tell they were impressed. They fanned out across the area, each of them suddenly inclined to be private, shadowy, even secretive. Periodically one of them would return to register the name of an item with Babette, careful not to let the others know what it was. I myself was not to be bothered with tedious details. I was the benefactor, the one who dispenses gifts, bonuses, bribes, baksheesh. The children knew it was the nature of such things that I could not be expected to engage in technical discussions about the gifts themselves. We ate another meal. A band played live Muzak. Voices rose ten stories from the gardens and promenades, a roar that echoed and swirled through the vast gallery, mixing with noises from the tiers, with shuffling feet and chiming bells, the hum of escalators, the sound of people eating, the human buzz of some vivid and happy transaction.
We drove home in silence. We went to our respective rooms, wishing to be alone. A little later I watched Steffie in front of the TV set. She moved her lips, attempting to match the words as they were spoken.

taken from seventeenth White Noise chapter,by Don DeLillo, 1985