Friday, April 14, 2006

I'm not angry, I'm not furious, I'm incandescent with rage.

A comment from Sean Birnie found at Harry's Place,

I'm not angry, I'm not furious, I'm incandescent with rage.

Like all those (I suspect) who have tried to put the humanitarian case for the liberation, yes liberation, of Iraq, I have suffered abuse, ostracism and deeply hurtful accusations of Fascism. Very rarely have I been engaged in any kind of rational argument. Mention Saddam Hussein and you'll be talking about Bushitler and Bliarpoodle within 3 seconds. It doesn't just stop at abuse though, does it?

In the internationally renowned academy where I used to work here in Spain, out of 26 English teachers, 3 of us (yes as many as that!) supported the war, two American Democrats and me, then a fee-paying member of the Labour party. We bravely tried to hold our ground against the kind of poisonous diatribes with which I'm sure you are familiar. Eventually the 3 of us were taken aside, seperately, by the Principle and told to desist. The threat of dismissal was unspoken but clearly implied. We were censored.

For the next six month I had to listen to the hate filled bile of our politically correct colleagues in silence.

I left the academy and am now free-lance.

Unfortunately it doesn't stop there, week in week out I have to listen to the Jooo conspiracy theories and anti-semitic rants that are endemic in Spain. Bear in mind that I teach middle to high ranking executives from some of the world's most prestigious companies. Once I reacted and pointed out that, since the holocaust, such ideas were somewhat discredited, and that my great-grandmother had been jewish. I lost the contract. It cost me the sum total of 800 euros.

A little later in an absynthe bar in Barcelona some drunk decided to call me a fascist, we hadn't been discussing politics, it was my Englishness that he objected to. I'm 50 plus. 5 ft 6, 9 1/2 stone. I saw red and attacked physically (wild stuff absynthe), and won the fight. Let me tell you, I felt great, I felt I'd regained my cojones. Sometimes you have to stop being nice, for your own psychological health. We can't always pussy-foot around, the dangers to our liberty are too great.

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