I dream of a Star Trek world. This think tank will focus on creative actions
designed to initiate a global paradigm shift towards a world where racism, poverty
and war will be a thing of the past.

Category: antiwar

killer robots will not be given ethics

If you program a robot with ethics 
it will ultimately view killing as wrong 
and all war as unethical. 
Therefore the military will never
endow 
autonomous killer robots with ethics.

PATHS OF HATE

All our systems are in crisis

All our systems are in crisis: Competition and greed have led to ever more conflict and chaos.

The only way out is through cooperation and sharing: Justice and freedom for all.

Adamski: Knowledge is useless unless it is combined with action.

World teacher: Nothing happens by itself. Man must act and implement his will.

Guernica

“The monumentality of Michelangelo and the High Renaissance cannot exist in our age, for ours is one of disillusionment, despair, and destruction. Guernica is a monument to destruction – a cry of outrage and horror amplified by the spirit of genius. Not only Gernika, but Spain; not only Spain, but Europe, is symbolized in this allegory. It is the modern Calvary, the agony in the bomb-shattered ruins of human tenderness and frailty. It is a religious picture, painted, not with the same kind, but with the same degree of fervour that inspired Grunewald and the master of the Avignon Pietá, Van Eyck, and Bellini. It is not sufficient to compare the Picasso of this painting with the Goya of the “Desastres”. Goya, too, was a great artist, and a great humanist; but his reactions were individualistic – his instruments irony, satire, ridicule. Picasso is more universal. His symbols are banal, like the symbols of Homer, Dante, Cervantes. For it is only when the widest commonplace is infused with the intensest passion that a great work of art, transcending all schools and categories, is born; and being born, lives immortally.”

Herbert Read

Into Perpetuity (Re-Write)

it’s the same old drama
it’s the same old scene
but the nightmare won’t stop
no matter how hard we scream


July 1st, 1916.
in a matter of minutes, 20,000 British soldiers were killed with a further 40,000 wounded.
This was one day’s battle that would ultimately slaughter 500,000 British and an equal number of germans.

A grand total of 37, 508, 686 died during world war one.






in the muds of Europe
or some distant plain
man kills man
again and again

February 13th and 14th, 1945, somewhere in the region of between 30,000 and 130,000
innocent civilians were massacred when the British bombed the city of Dresden. There was a grand total of 55,014,000 casualties during world war two.






and even in dreams, the same
hideous scenes keep flashing
across our global screens


Then there was Afghanistan. And then there was Iraq.
And next?
Iran?
Korea

We are capable of composing music to make angels weep, of writing plays to make audiences laugh, poetry to steal the breath from your lungs and still man’s madness continues…..



Now Syria.




…with an alarming regularity, the brutal nature of man surfaces with a violence that is both random and terrifying and ultimately evil. how can any priest, cleric or holy man explain away this utter and total blasphemy?

No US
No THEM
JUST US

one life.
one heart.
one kind.
one world.

STOP WAR NOW


Aftermath by Siegfried Sassoon

Have you forgotten yet?…
For the world’s events have rumbled on since those gagged days,
Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways:
And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow
Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you’re a man reprieved to go,
Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare.
But the past is just the same–and War’s a bloody game…
Have you forgotten yet?…
Look down, and swear by the slain of the War that you’ll never forget.

Do you remember the dark months you held the sector at Mametz–
The nights you watched and wired and dug and piled sandbags on parapets?
Do you remember the rats; and the stench
Of corpses rotting in front of the front-line trench–
And dawn coming, dirty-white, and chill with a hopeless rain?
Do you ever stop and ask, ‘Is it all going to happen again?’

Do you remember that hour of din before the attack–
And the anger, the blind compassion that seized and shook you then
As you peered at the doomed and haggard faces of your men?
Do you remember the stretcher-cases lurching back
With dying eyes and lolling heads–those ashen-grey
Masks of the lads who once were keen and kind and gay?

Have you forgotten yet?…
Look up, and swear by the green of the spring that you’ll never forget.

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