Once upon a time there was a criminal circle, more than a vicious one.
Think about a group of aspiring leaders who built their political program by exploiting the ignorance and fears of citizens, lying unashamedly on the number of illegal immigrants on the country.
It was a calculated risk, theirs.
As a resounding bluff of cards, not playing with their money, but yours.
Let's say they won the table.
Consider, now, a group of aspiring leaders who have focused everything on a lie at the expense of the most unfortunate people in the world, and now find themselves at the head of the country.
They sit on their new chairs, they look at each other, they know they have lied, and they think: what we do if the truth comes out?
They start to be worried about that.
Because it can be easy to deceive people to take power. The hard part is to keep it by continuing to lie.
However, the solution is there, in the power they fraudulently enjoy.
The illegal immigrants are not as many as we said?
Okay, so let's make them.
And what's better than a bad law?
What a smart move.
To get elected by the citizens they told them lots of lies about immigration who endangered their safety, and then they write a law to create illegal immigrants and they call them more security for everybody...
Note:
Italy has rejected 24,800 asylum applications in the last four months, that’s a record. According to Matteo Villa, ISPI researcher, "the recent Italian immigration law will continue to increase the number of illegal immigrants in the country. According to our estimates, there could be more than 670,000 asylum seekers who will live irregularly in Italy, partially because the government doesn’t have the right to expel them".
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A dialogue, a not too imaginary one...
Good morning, Your Intolerance, The Great Wall Builder, The King of Presidents, Mr. Donald Trump.
Good morning to you, but you don’t need to say everything. Just Mister President.
Agreed, Mr. President, I have with me 500 people who just passed the border.
What do you mean with people?
Oops, I'm sorry, I meant migrants.
And say it: migrants.
Migrants, exactly.
So?
I would like to know how we must proceed with their relocation.
Their who?
The migrants.
Yes... because we cannot leave them on the street without a valid reason, right?
No, we need it, unless we have a place...
I know the answer!
Such as?
What about a zoo?
No, we can’t, they’re not animals…
A prison?
They’re not criminals.
Could we just forget them?
They’re not bad dreams, Mister President…
Can we send them to Mars?
They’re too many, we don’t have so many shuttles.
It’s a problem, that’s why I asked for a wall.
Yup, and now they are saying to be here for humanitarian reasons.
What?
Humanitarian, it's an adjective.
Wait, I look on the dictionary, so we’ll find a solution. Humanitarian: it refers to a person or a thing, with philanthropic sentiments, loving neighbors and taking care for the fate of others. I got it: they could remain on the street.
Why?
Because humanitarian concerns a person or a thing, so we’re good.
Because migrants are neither. And because to me and my supporters they matter much less.
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Once upon a time the mayor of Gdansk.
Once upon a time, therefore, Pawel Adamowicz.
But above all – to his commendable merit, there was once his point of view on migrants: There are, of course, active groups of citizens in Gdansk who claim that security concerns override any other interests in resettling refugees. The majority, however, including city authorities, says that accepting refugees and immigrants comes with cultural and economic benefits.
Gdańsk’s model of integration of immigrants and refugees follows proven European activities International cooperation in the field of immigrant integration policy started with the deepening of relations in the framework of Eurocities. It is a consortium of major European cities with an active Forum of Social Affairs, which focuses, among others matters, on sharing best practices of thirty European cities most experienced in the field of integration policy for migrants. We joined the group and obtained a very good overview of the migration policy in Europe. Inspired by the experience of delegates from Oslo, we decided to visit the capital of Norway, which is one of the leaders in the integration of foreigners in Europe. We went there on a study visit.
Once upon a time, as you have read, there were words and contents that were completely different from the populist storytelling.
Acceping and benefit cultural, as well as economic, as a model of integration and cooperation, such as deepening, sharing and above all study.
Once upon a time and never again the mayor of Gdansk.
But his words remain and, together with his killing, they show that on immigration Pawel Adamowicz was infinitely right.
Denying it and, where you have the choice, not pursuing the same values it's like being accomplices of his murderers...
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We are not racists.
They are the ones to be colonialists.
It is since the end of 1440 that we say it, and no one listens to us.
These people have been coming to us for almost six centuries to steal and conquer.
To kill and bring diseases.
To impoverish and subjugate.
To make the inhabitants slaves.
To impose culture and traditions.
To devastate everything.
To massacre entire generations.
To divide peoples.
To bribe the younger ones.
To deceive the most vulnerable.
To erase cities and monuments.
To debase hopes.
To pollute waters and skies.
To exploit and manipulate entire nations.
...
And then, if even one of us dares to come to them...
Here is the invasion, the immigration problem and the walls, the illegal migrants and everyone should stay their own home.
Unfortunately it is now late, it would take the time machine, to tie.
Otherwise, give us the chance to go back with the awareness of today, then we will see who the immigrants are and who the owners of their land and its riches...
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Once upon a time there was a propaganda.
That is, the liar and interested voice.
Concerned about the click of the link as the fear, your fear.
I am talking about you, who read and above all believe what you are afraid of.
Think about Google News and search for the magic word.
Read what fills the dinner plate of those bad scribblers: immigrants.
Take for instance what happens in Italy, today.
Where some say that Tuberculosis returns as a "gift" from immigrants, as the Nazism did with Jews.
Migrants, Italy has exceeded the threshold limit: one in 10 citizens is a foreigner, says another one.
It is not a joke, the article titled and deepens this very concept, terrifying it: in the past it was zero in ten, today there is one!
Be scared!
The international lobby of the chic leftists wants to make us invaded by immigrants, tells another one.
Can you imagine the leaders of this sort of SP.E.C.T.R.E. in the attic of a skyscraper, elegant in their Che Guevara shirts planning departures and organize landings of migrants?
Well, if you cannot only imagine it, but also consider it to be plausible, the situation is serious for you, because they have now infected you for good.
Them, not the migrants.
And so on, other lies in the form of news, more smoke to obscure horizons and those who watch them.
Once upon a time there was the fascist propaganda and it is here again.
At the same time, there was once and we hope it will still be here.
The resistance…
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Once upon a time the Global Compact Migration.
That is, the recent UN document on immigration.
Once upon a time also who are against it.
Once upon a time, then, their brain.
And how to depict it? Imagine an empty room, large, but really bare.
As if you were invited to a party, you enter the hall and exclaim: "Isn’t nobody here? Anything at all? And did I hear so much noise from that?'
One day the aforementioned document approached the entrance of this kind of skull.
The latter, despite the vacuity of the meninges, proudly kept a sort of antivirus, focused on one enemy in particular: the brown people from overseas, to use a poetic euphemism.
Therefore, as soon as the sensors intercepted the word migration, they start to sound.
For your consideration, the Global Compact for Migration proposes some guidelines for managing migratory phenomena and reception policies for asylum seekers established thanks to the work of experts and operators on the field. The intent is, among other things, to combat and reduce the vulnerabilities of migrants, as well as to hinder the trafficking of human beings. The majority of European nations, including Germany and France, have already voted in favor, while the opposing are the countries that more or less recently elected governments that declare themselves to be averse to migrants.
But it is evident that in that emptiness mentioned above there is no trace of any solution to the problems of the world that foresees human empathy...
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The tyrant is angry.
It is not because a random guy thought he can travel from the world strictly south of his kingdom, and at the same time pretended to get close enough to look him straight in the eye.
Nor because this south is not so far. Since, as the overvalued boundary geography states, the Americas are two, not one, and Honduras is part of it as well as the US.
It is not because the lovers of hope and improbable horizons are more than one, but four thousand.
Nor because they reveal the intention to break through that wall of lies and folly between the land of reserved opportunities and Mexico.
Not because we talk about a caravan of migrants without any trace of fear of the sovereign liar.
He is infuriated the same.
He perfectly knows that the utopian plan will fail, the prospectors of the future have no chance of entering the naked king’s garden, undressed of every humanity’s fragment, and that the guards appointed to defend the world conquered thanks to native blood genocide, when the time comes, they do what they are paid for.
Still, the tyrant is enraged.
It never stops being so.
Because he also knows that out there, beyond the barbed wire that surrounds his heart, in every second myriads of perennially dreamy souls or simple fools can rise up.
Ready to invade his nightmares.
Courage, then
Let’s continue to infuriate the tyrants of this world...
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Worse than the prison.
That’s how the inmates used to define the detention centers for illegal immigrants in the United Kingdom, where more than twenty-five thousand people pass each year.
Rehabilitation is not provided.
There is no trial.
One judge, the government.
No defense attorney.
The prosecution does not need a witness.
No look for evidences.
While the strange type of defendant, guilty of poor birth, can not appeal to any court in the world.
There is no criminal sentence to be issued.
And, therefore, no limit to be affixed to the sentence’s duration.
Because it starts from afar – read as well that unfortunate first wandering on earth, and just as far away it will find peace.
There are cells, indeed.
So the guards and legalized abuses.
Anguish and fear.
The deafening silence on the sweet side of the barbed wire crown, the true boundary that divides the earth into two unequal parts.
Worse than the prison, yes it is.
But, feeling even more bitter, worse than life itself which the unwanted creatures escaped from...
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The Mare Ionio (Ionian Sea) vessel sailed last night from Augusta to Libya and is part of Mediterranea, the first international sea mission fully organized in Italy.
The project, supported and financed by various associations and political exponents, will officially have tasks of monitoring, testimony and denunciation.
Meanwhile, the number of migrants dead in the sea that divides Europe from Africa has reached its historical highs. According to a new study by the researcher Matteo Villa, of the Institute for International Political Studies (ISPI), only in September 2018 20% of those who left Libya were deceased or missing.
Waiting to see how the current Italian government will counterattack, the war continues...
I will go.
And I will wait for you on the bank.
I will go the same and I will sail.
And I, to shake the sea and your heart, I will blow on the waves.
I will dance among them and I will feel bravery staring at the future that I have never even dreamed of.
And I, to attract monsters from everywhere and attack you, I will make noise and I will scream until I lose my breath.
I will welcome them on board and convince them that the real monsters are your words and what they hide.
Then, I will sail too.
And I, in the midst of the waves, I will wait for you.
I will be armed with cannons and rifles.
And I will be loved by my companions and dear ones.
I will see you on the horizon with rancor.
And I will watch you arriving feeling only your terror.
I will shout fire and I will sink you.
And I will slide to the bottom of the sea.
The next day, I will count the dead and I will exult.
And I, from the underworld, I will leave again.
At the edge of my small and miserable world, I will know how to stop you.
And I will be made of eternal dust and shadows of slaughtered memory, impossible to arrest.
I will work to erase people memories from the great history.
And I will seek the consciences of those you first forgot and I will tell them my short story.
In the meantime, someone else, after me, will go.
And someone else, after me, will wait for you.
So it will continue, until between us it will be war or peace.
Forever...
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Imagine you are an immigrant.
One who migrates and who must do it to survive.
Exactly, imagine you are one of the many, for some, the few, for many, who has all the credentials not to be rejected wihout any discussion, let's put it this way.
Spend everything you have on your journey, suffer from sickness, cold and violence, and after a hellish trip you find yourself on the island of Lesbos, in Greece.
Now, you could think: what luck, Greece, you say? The land where in ancient times considered a duty to give hospitality to those who asked for?
You see, my friend, the key part is not hospitality, but in ancient times. Otherwise, Americans are the first migrants in the world, as are Italians, Spaniards and Portuguese, etc.
So you find yourself in a detention camp for asylum seekers in the city of Moria.
What you mean with detention camp, you might ask. A prison? Come on, I wanted to survive and you put me in a cell like a criminal? Is it a crime wanting to live?
Yes, I know, in those shoes you would talk like that, but the hard work is to do it with a stretched shirt.
So, in spite of the paradoxical injustice of the situation, imagine millions of people in the world accusing you of having come here to steal, to take away jobs and future, culture and possibilities, houses and medical care.
Now, you are always in the camp, and the screams are strong, every day more, deciding governments and determining the front pages of newspapers.
Well, speaking about accusations and newspapers, imagine that the detention camp which you are imprisoned in was under investigation and that Fileleftheros daily published a report that connects the name of the Defence Minister Panos Kammenos,ì - head of the Independent Greeks, avowedly anti-immigration right-wing party, with businessmen who have benefited from EU funds, otherwise destined to improve life in the camp.
Do you understand, now who are the migrants and who are the thieves?
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Happy birthday Horst Seehofer.
Best wishes to the German Minister of the Interior.
Happy birthday to the Teutonic Salvini.
Sorry for the delay, of course, because you celebrated your personal anniversary the 4th July.
Eight days ago.
Here is the distance between the inhuman madness of inept people with power and the sad reality of the unfortunate souls on this earth.
You were to toast before the 69 candles turning them into human trophies, blowing them away like negligible flames of equally insignificant existences of wax.
You have chosen to rejoice in front of the grotesque coincidence of years on the shoulders and expelled lives.
Well, it will be because you blew with excessive arrogance.
Or, perhaps, it is simply a cruel fate to realize beyond all expectations your wishes expressed during the festive occasion.
Keep laughing, then, be consistent with the brutal cynicism that pervades your body.
Because a 23-year-old man, who had lived in Germany since he was 15, once in Afghanistan committed suicide.
Eight years his new life lasted over the border and other infernal lines.
Here is the distance between humanity and what we have become.
Happy birthday to the man called minister.
Happy birthday to the minister who now has little of human.
Happy birthday to those who like you are defiling history with a cursed past, which we thought we had enough understood.
Well, as it has happened once before, may the future take away that smile from your face as soon as possible...
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Once upon a time a list.
The list of 34,361 women, men and children who died trying to reach Europe and find a better life.
Once upon a time a story, indeed.
A fairly, but not so impossible one, if you pay attention to facts, instead of fake news and ignorant screams.
So, once upon a time women, men and children that would fill a small town, not great as many used to say.
Well, let’s imagine it.
Let’s figure families and friends, travelers or just human beings arriving in a little city, one of those that doesn’t get so many tourists.
But there is life, anyway.
There will be for sure.
Once upon a time, and it is now, a world where there is place for that.
A chance and a right to survive.
Getting food and shelter, a wonderful list of two, an easy one to remember and more than all realize.
Once upon a time, sadly, 34,361 women, men and children disappeared somewhere.
But still asking for human answers and actions...
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Once upon a time there were human lives, because this they are talking, writing, and shouting away about.
Once upon a time there was a ship full of life.
Once upon a time there were nations in war with words and illusions.
There were once maneuvering plutocrats and enslaved bureaucrats.
Once upon a time there were populist digital leaders and digital peoples without leaders.
Once upon a time there was a continent of frustrated hopes.
Once upon a time there were desperate lives looking for a future.
Once upon a time there was story.
Repeated again, again and again.
Sadly equal to itself.
Here it is the world's most loved sport, in which we have all qualified with all the disgraces.
We against them…
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Relaxed.
Yes they are.
On chairs where you least suppose that, if you got out now, a not much lines from fullness and, above all, thought foundations.
Well, is not evading such troubles that nowadays the ferociously populist inhabitant makes his unquestionable deductions?
Is it not with the same rough calculation that he decides and then elects?
In short, is not it sufficient to understand the post’s title to give away the destiny of lots of generations?
Nonetheless, if you had got time and interest to see more, I inform you that ten thousand special migrants from all over the world arrived last year in Australia, a record nation for this particular ranking…
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Relaxing in the lodging of a word that you have relentlessly deflated of all sense.
‘Left’, just like that, along with the crucial themes which you should have taken a reliable position on.
I’m talking about migrants, let's begin with the least stoppable one.
You voted for the fascism when you started to persuade yourself that being a left guy merely meant tolerating the strangers, rather than being the one who greets the newcomer with open arms. And you did the same in the right instant you assumed immigration meant exclusions and ships, borders and fences, falling into the miserable difference among illegal immigrants and second generations, among economic migrants and political refugees…
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According to a disturbingly eventuality the most racist governments used to describe themselves as the most devout ones, including the emerging Italy administration and its new premier.
A few days ago, I went in the Sanctuary of Rivotorto, in Umbria, and inside the beautiful Hovel of Saint Francis of Assisi, even though I knew it, I read again the Canticle of the Creatures, but with my modern eyes.
First of all, I want to say I am not a religious person, however, those lyrics seemed to me further blessed, when changed to the need of a lot of methodically forgotten creatures…
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In that brief moment of rediscovered courage, held in the embrace of our brotherhood, we become one with our only friend.
We are the umbrella, therefore.
We ourselves are the border between the life we have and the one we should have.
Because we are the love for the land we occupy, wherever it is, everyplace it will be, which resists and survives everything.
It cannot rain forever, it was said.
Well, when it will stop, because it will do.
We.
Will be...
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My friend on the horizon, I have no idea what your name is.
Maybe you have blue skin, three eyes or flames in place of your hair, I have no idea what your diversity will be, in the eyes of others. So, I don't know your features, the depths of your being, and especially the reasons that will push your contemporaries to use you as the scapegoat of every evil in the world.
Nevertheless, I think I know what you feel.
Don’t give in to fear, promise me.
But, more than anything else, never let anger wins.
As far as it is justified and understandable.
Because, believe me on the word, they will be able to take advantage of it too.
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Do you think it’s crazy?
That’s nothing, my friend.
It seems that the most modern factories of the world's walls have come to the field.
In a random order, maybe a bit shaky, I list in detail the various proposals, all avant-garde and
especially aimed at preventing unacceptable climbing.
As the motto on the official call’s text says, a crossable wall is a dead one.
The first project involves the revolving wall, a stuff of a unique innovation, the very best for practicality, and nowadays it’s certainly not a matter of fact.
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"I was good," Mary proudly says, "you know, mom?"
"Well done..." she tells her, equally taken by the debate, that has also come to the precious, shared property.
For the record, in addition to the child’s parents, those interested in the valuable legacy are uncle Donald, single and tireless exotic beauties hunters - strictly under twenty-five, aunt Jennifer and her husband aka the dummy - secretly renamed such from Mary's mother, and cousin Fred, a busy engineer away to the north, granted for missing in the last years, but it's a pleasure to be here, that’s certainly not a matter of money, his exact words.
"I did as the teacher and you too always suggest," says the smallest one in the scene.
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