quinta-feira, 23 de janeiro de 2014


Temos tendência para pensar que a base da individualidade está na essência de cada indivíduo. Mas esta noção parece-me errada: afinal não têm todos esses indivíduos o mesmo nome "Eu"? Parece-me mais acertado imaginarmos a base da individuação na forma: tal como cuvetes de diferente formatos fazem cubos de gelo distintos. Não são eles todos feitos da mesma água?


"As the sun first shines upon the high peaks while the world is still lying in darkness, so He [the Buddha] illumined those whose aptitude was high with the doctrine of nonduality of the mind and the Buddha. He taught that infinite time is in one moment and that one moment is in infinite time; that one is many and many is in one, that is, that the universal is in the particulars and that the particulars are in the universal. He illustrated the infinitely interdependent relationship of time and space...".

Kükai, in Yoshito S. Hakeda, Kükai: Major Works, Columbia University Press, 1972



"But deranged men do not perceive their madness;
The blind are unaware of their blindness.
Born, reborn, and still born again,
Whence they have come they do not know.
Dying, dying, and dying yet again,
Where they go in the end they do not know".

Kükai, The Precious Key to the Secret Treasury (830 AD)

segunda-feira, 20 de janeiro de 2014



Fiquei hoje a saber, ao ler os jornais, que o Professor Marcelo  afasta-se da candidatura à Presidência da República porque "a questão está resolvida quando o líder do maior partido diz que a candidatura é indesejada". E por que razão é tal candidatura indesejada? Porque, diz-nos o Professor Marcelo, o líder do PSD postulou na sua moção ao Congresso um conjunto de características indesejadas para o cargo. Ora, como tais características - mais uma vez de acordo com o próprio Marcelo - aparentemente descrevem o nosso ímpar Professor, fica a hipotética candidatura posta de lado. Conclusão? Apenas uma: que Marcelo se considera a si próprio como "um catavento de opiniões erráticas em função da mera mediatização gerada em torno do fenómeno político"; quanto ao resto, sobra a vitimização habitual do Professor Marcelo que, imagino eu, para ser candidato presidencial precisaria de sondagens que lhe dessem garantias de mais de 70% dos votos à primeira volta. Menos do que isso seria uma ignomínia à qual o Professor nunca se sujeitaria e, por essa portentosa - e corajosa - razão, nos ficará de antemão garantida que, por um lado, nem Marcelo será Presidente da República e que, por outro, nem nós, nem provavelmente Passos Coelho, nos teremos que preocupar muito com essa possibilidade.

terça-feira, 14 de janeiro de 2014


A marca Boss a anunciar os seus uniformes para, entre outros, as SS nazis.

segunda-feira, 13 de janeiro de 2014


Wrightwood. Cal. 21 October, 1949

Dear Mr. Orwell,

It was very kind of you to tell your publishers to send me a copy of your book. It arrived as I was in the midst of a piece of work that required much reading and consulting of references; and since poor sight makes it necessary for me to ration my reading, I had to wait a long time before being able to embark on Nineteen Eighty-Four.

Agreeing with all that the critics have written of it, I need not tell you, yet once more, how fine and how profoundly important the book is. May I speak instead of the thing with which the book deals — the ultimate revolution? The first hints of a philosophy of the ultimate revolution — the revolution which lies beyond politics and economics, and which aims at total subversion of the individual's psychology and physiology — are to be found in the Marquis de Sade, who regarded himself as the continuator, the consummator, of Robespierre and Babeuf. The philosophy of the ruling minority in Nineteen Eighty-Four is a sadism which has been carried to its logical conclusion by going beyond sex and denying it. Whether in actual fact the policy of the boot-on-the-face can go on indefinitely seems doubtful. My own belief is that the ruling oligarchy will find less arduous and wasteful ways of governing and of satisfying its lust for power, and these ways will resemble those which I described in Brave New World. I have had occasion recently to look into the history of animal magnetism and hypnotism, and have been greatly struck by the way in which, for a hundred and fifty years, the world has refused to take serious cognizance of the discoveries of Mesner, Braid, Esdaile, and the rest.

Partly because of the prevailing materialism and partly because of prevailing respectability, nineteenth-century philosophers and men of science were not willing to investigate the odder facts of psychology for practical men, such as politicians, soldiers and policemen, to apply in the field of government. Thanks to the voluntary ignorance of our fathers, the advent of the ultimate revolution was delayed for five or six generations. Another lucky accident was Freud's inability to hypnotize successfully and his consequent disparagement of hypnotism. This delayed the general application of hypnotism to psychiatry for at least forty years. But now psycho-analysis is being combined with hypnosis; and hypnosis has been made easy and indefinitely extensible through the use of barbiturates, which induce a hypnoid and suggestible state in even the most recalcitrant subjects.

Within the next generation I believe that the world's rulers will discover that infant conditioning and narco-hypnosis are more efficient, as instruments of government, than clubs and prisons, and that the lust for power can be just as completely satisfied by suggesting people into loving their servitude as by flogging and kicking them into obedience. In other words, I feel that the nightmare of Nineteen Eighty-Four is destined to modulate into the nightmare of a world having more resemblance to that which I imagined in Brave New World. The change will be brought about as a result of a felt need for increased efficiency. Meanwhile, of course, there may be a large scale biological and atomic war — in which case we shall have nightmares of other and scarcely imaginable kinds.

Thank you once again for the book.

Yours sincerely,

Aldous Huxley 


terça-feira, 7 de janeiro de 2014


Farto dela, da gritaria. Há dias onde Portugal me cansa: há sempre alguma coisa, normalmente insignificante, e logo vêm uns quantos a gritar, a clamar, a bradar, de peito aberto, vestes rasgadas, a indignação, porque os outros são uns malandros, uns miseráveis, uns bandidos; sempre, uns e outros, todos a gritarem, todos indignados, todos ofendidíssimos com as maiores insignificâncias. Porra, não se cansam de odiar o próximo? É que ninguém detesta mais os portugueses do que o vizinho do lado.