This article is based on this dutch article of Martijn Benders
What came before: Ewald Engelen is expelled from the Volkskrant and writes an indignant letter to Pieter Klok, making it clear that without him, the man of the people, only an elitist newspaper remains.
How is it possible that I can tag Ewald Engelen on Twitter with such a message and then receive no response at all? Imagine this: a well-known writer composes an extensive letter about you, publicly tags you on Twitter, and you fail to give any reaction whatsoever. Is this the new “man of the people”? Perhaps modeled after Rutte’s “The New Normal”?
And Ewald, isn’t he a special professor, living in the ever-prosperous Amsterdam? His argument that the Volkskrant is populated by highly educated Amsterdammers who wish to exclude him, the man of the people, isn’t exactly strengthened by this. But alas, I, a simple writer, do not possess the necessary following on Twitter to be deemed worth a reply. The literary pyramid, once granted a certain authority, is now merely an unpleasant memory of a shadowy past for these individuals.
The true “man of the people” only responds if one has acquired the right status: verified by the educational system or the media. The idea of a literary pyramid holding any authority on its own – the very thought is too ridiculous for words – imagine that one would actually have to read those books! No, the “famous man of the people” wisely chooses not to respond to this *statut indéfini*: I clearly do not belong to the class of people worthy of a response. But tell me, what kind of name is Ewald anyway, for an average row house resident and a consumer of green beans?
Quickly back to those highly peculiar Christian-insulting Olympic Games. GeenStijl already noted what anyone with eyes in their head would see: the infamous blasphemous scene that bore no resemblance to the Last Supper lasted precisely half a minute, in a three-hour ceremony. Yet, almost all of right-wing Europe suddenly consisted of offended Christians who seized this demonic blasphemy as a pretext to sternly remind their followers that they don’t understand that the government on earth is an extension of God in Christianity. Even Kinneging got involved: we should be glad that we are tolerated at all, then wishing to be equal, and then, as a cherry on top, a part of the elite!
God is not a transvestite!!!
And if, as a writer and philosopher, you dare to point out that this is not exactly the discussion that should be relevant at these Olympic Games: that the exclusion of Russia and Belarus is what we should be talking about: that questioning why half a million deaths in Ukraine are a reason for exclusion but a million deaths during the Iraq war are not: what sense does that make? Why was the coalition of the willing not excluded from the Olympic Games back then? Why this selectivity? Are Iraqi lives worth less?
And doesn’t this go completely against the so-called Olympic Spirit that these games are supposed to embody? This is sheer arbitrariness if you handle the Olympic Games in this manner! And that’s an understatement because essentially we are dealing here with blatant racism. If the dead are too brown, they seemingly do not matter. This is a nauseating thought, especially in an event that pretends to embody the Olympic Spirit.
Yet no one talks about it. The blasphemous scene apparently fits better with the political agenda. That blue smurf on the grapes is an excellent portrayal of euphemizing this policy, which seems to elude the entire angry right-wing boomer crowd. They even forget to pretend for a moment that they aren’t really Christians after all. Oh yes, now they are, civilization is under attack!
Alright, a sort of “sorry” has already appeared, because that’s the only thing the Left dares to be good at, if you want to define the left at least as the clique controlled by the American Arms Trade. Sorry! Sorry man! We didn’t mean it that way! And there the indignant white caravan moves on again, after this delightful ego-stroking from inferior left: the left that you are allowed to give a voice, let’s call it Ewaldleft. Oh no, Ewald actually cried along with the Christian wolves. Oh, how complex modern politics is.
When World War II broke out, the Olympic Games were not held for twelve years. And that wasn’t after some official in a blue suit calculated on a calculator how many dead there were, and whether those dead had the right color and had stood on the right side.
Those were different times, times in which writers were judged on their books instead of their number of (purchased) followers. For the fact that you can just buy those ‘followers’ is just as much of an open secret: Tommy Wierenga owes his alleged popularity to the mass purchase of his own books back then, those were your followers at the time. Look at how many followers Benders has, it’s only twenty-eight on Substack. No, if you have so few followers, you belong to what they call the ‘untouchables’ in India.
I asked DallE3 to illustrate this story. The Great Ewald turned out well and bears a remarkable resemblance to Keanu Reeves. Next to the Dalit at the bottom, there are noticeably neither red nor blue Matrix pills but green ones, with rectangles on them.
The untouchables are a class of people who are supposed to exist as air. You don’t respond to them, no matter how high or low they may jump. Responding to an untouchable (or Dalit) is strongly status-lowering. As an Amsterdam ProfessorManofthePeople, it is important to properly put the Reisbrochureelite of the Volkskrant in their place. If only we didn’t have education!
*Financial geographer,* as Wikipedia describes the Ewaldleft.
I take note of it. Have some pity for this Dalit, he is not left, he is not right, he is merely part of an increasingly large voiceless mass: the *writers of writers*, who are now evolving in a Baudrillardian manner into writers of writers of writers and their pyramid, dismantled half a century ago by the well-known Dutch celebrities. Oh, let me enjoy that freedom of classlessness for a bit longer while it lasts. It must be no pleasure living in a world where status determines who you may respond to. It is a world defined by the green bean.
In this cold, calculating society, where the value of a person depends on their place in the social hierarchy, the freedom of classlessness is a rare treasure. We writers, once seen as the guardians of culture and civilization, have been reduced to echoes of our predecessors, trapped in an endless cycle of self-reference. What remains of the noble art of writing if we are judged solely on our visibility and not on the power of our words?
The Dalit, symbol of oppression and oblivion, reflects the tragedy of a world that degrades the individual to a mere link in a chain. We live in an era where the essence of humanity is distorted by superficial standards of success and recognition. It is a bitter irony that in an age of supposed progress and enlightened values, the true spirit of equality and justice is so elusive. Let us, while we still can, cherish the illusion of freedom and classlessness, for in these fleeting moments lies the true beauty of existence.
Martijn Benders, 29-07-2024