It happens slowly, irreparably, slyly. What was the title of that song? Killing me softly. That’s how freedoms are killed – for the most.
I am not talking about the big, bad, repressive regimes that everyone is so prompt to condemn. It’s not about water-hosing protesters or tear-gassing demonstrations or pellet-gunning stone pelters at eye-height. The public has strong reactions against these things – except for the latter, actually: in that case, if you excuse me a bad pun, people easily turn a blind eye because it is not really OK to mess with the world’s largest democracy (and a huge exploitable financial market). I am not even talking about brave women facing anti-riots cops or couples kissing passionately in front of burning barricades as if expecting the Apocalypse. These make good photos. They are also too much in our face and the media and public opinion are quick to respond. People call these instances brutal and unacceptable, they require specific hashtags and swift online mobilisations and collective changing of Facebook profile pictures in solidarity. Continue reading “Liberticide”