INDIFFERENT
I hate the cold.
I like Frederick Hebbel that "To live means to be partisan." There can not be the only men, strangers to the city. Who really lives can not be a citizen, and siding. Indifference and apathy, is parasitism, it is cowardice, not life. So I hate the cold. Indifference is the dead weight of history. It 's the lead ball to the innovator, is the inert matter where they drown the enthusiasm more often shining, is the swamp that encloses the old city walls and defends better than most solid, best of the breasts of his soldiers, because it swallows in its muddy eddies the assailants, and decimated them and score them, and sometimes causes them to desist by the heroic.
The indifference shown strength in history. Work passively, but it operates. E 'fate, and that on which we can not count, is what upsets the programs, which brings down the best built planes, is the brute matter who rebels against the intelligence and the throat. What happens, the evil that befalls all the possible good that a heroic act (universal value) can generate, is not due to the initiative of the few that operate as indifference, the absenteeism of the many. What happens, is not so much because some people want that to happen, but because the mass of men abdicating to his will, leave, leave then grouped the nodes that only the sword will cut, leaving only then enact laws that will repeal the revolt, leaving the men who come to power only then will a mutiny to overthrow. The fatality that seems to dominate the fact that history is nothing more illusory appearance of this indifference, this absenteeism. Ripen in the shade of the facts, a few hands, unsupervised by any control, they weave the fabric of community life, and ignores the mass, why does not care. The fate of an epoch are manipulated according to the narrow view, the immediate goals, ambitions and personal passions of smaller groups active, and ignores the mass of men, why does not care. But the facts that have matured are to lead, but the woven fabric shadow comes to fruition, so what seems to be the fate to overwhelm everything and everyone, it seems that history is nothing but an enormous natural phenomenon, an eruption, an earthquake, all of which remain a victim, who wanted and who does not wanted, who knew and who knew, who had been active and who is indifferent. And the latter is irritated, would escape the consequences, would appear clear that he did not want, he is not responsible. Some whine piteously, others swearing obscenely, but none or very few people wonder: If I had done my duty if I had tried to assert my will, my advice would have happened what happened? But none or very few are having blame for their indifference, their skepticism, not giving their arm and their activities to those groups of citizens, that precisely to avoid this evil, fight, to procure that such goods are proposed.
Most of them, however, made to events, preferring to talk about failures ideals, programs finally collapsed and other similar amenities. They start so their absence from all liability. Nor have they see clear into things that sometimes have not and capable envisaged for wonderful solution for most urgent problems, or those who, while requiring extensive preparation time and have but equally urgent. But these solutions are beautiful infertile, but this contribution to the collective life is not motivated by any moral light, it is the product of intellectual curiosity, not a dry sense of historical responsibility that wants all active in life, that does not allow any kind of agnosticism and indifference.
hate the indifferent even what bothers me the whine of their eternal innocent. I ask each of them to account of how he played the role that life has placed and places every day of what he has done and especially what did not. And I feel I can be relentless, not having to waste my pity, not having to share them with my tears. I am partisan, I live, I feel in the consciousness of my masculine side already beat the business of the future city that my part is building. And it does not weigh up the social chain short, everything that happens in it is not due to chance, the fatality, but it's intelligent work of citizens. There is no one who is in it to the window and watch as the few sacrifice themselves, they sacrifice in the veins cut, and one who stands at the window, lying in wait, should take advantage of the little good that the activity of a few outbursts and his attorney revile the disappointment sacrificed, fainting because he failed in his attempt.
I hate the cold.
I like Frederick Hebbel that "To live means to be partisan." There can not be the only men, strangers to the city. Who really lives can not be a citizen, and siding. Indifference and apathy, is parasitism, it is cowardice, not life. So I hate the cold. Indifference is the dead weight of history. It 's the lead ball to the innovator, is the inert matter where they drown the enthusiasm more often shining, is the swamp that encloses the old city walls and defends better than most solid, best of the breasts of his soldiers, because it swallows in its muddy eddies the assailants, and decimated them and score them, and sometimes causes them to desist by the heroic.
The indifference shown strength in history. Work passively, but it operates. E 'fate, and that on which we can not count, is what upsets the programs, which brings down the best built planes, is the brute matter who rebels against the intelligence and the throat. What happens, the evil that befalls all the possible good that a heroic act (universal value) can generate, is not due to the initiative of the few that operate as indifference, the absenteeism of the many. What happens, is not so much because some people want that to happen, but because the mass of men abdicating to his will, leave, leave then grouped the nodes that only the sword will cut, leaving only then enact laws that will repeal the revolt, leaving the men who come to power only then will a mutiny to overthrow. The fatality that seems to dominate the fact that history is nothing more illusory appearance of this indifference, this absenteeism. Ripen in the shade of the facts, a few hands, unsupervised by any control, they weave the fabric of community life, and ignores the mass, why does not care. The fate of an epoch are manipulated according to the narrow view, the immediate goals, ambitions and personal passions of smaller groups active, and ignores the mass of men, why does not care. But the facts that have matured are to lead, but the woven fabric shadow comes to fruition, so what seems to be the fate to overwhelm everything and everyone, it seems that history is nothing but an enormous natural phenomenon, an eruption, an earthquake, all of which remain a victim, who wanted and who does not wanted, who knew and who knew, who had been active and who is indifferent. And the latter is irritated, would escape the consequences, would appear clear that he did not want, he is not responsible. Some whine piteously, others swearing obscenely, but none or very few people wonder: If I had done my duty if I had tried to assert my will, my advice would have happened what happened? But none or very few are having blame for their indifference, their skepticism, not giving their arm and their activities to those groups of citizens, that precisely to avoid this evil, fight, to procure that such goods are proposed.
Most of them, however, made to events, preferring to talk about failures ideals, programs finally collapsed and other similar amenities. They start so their absence from all liability. Nor have they see clear into things that sometimes have not and capable envisaged for wonderful solution for most urgent problems, or those who, while requiring extensive preparation time and have but equally urgent. But these solutions are beautiful infertile, but this contribution to the collective life is not motivated by any moral light, it is the product of intellectual curiosity, not a dry sense of historical responsibility that wants all active in life, that does not allow any kind of agnosticism and indifference.
hate the indifferent even what bothers me the whine of their eternal innocent. I ask each of them to account of how he played the role that life has placed and places every day of what he has done and especially what did not. And I feel I can be relentless, not having to waste my pity, not having to share them with my tears. I am partisan, I live, I feel in the consciousness of my masculine side already beat the business of the future city that my part is building. And it does not weigh up the social chain short, everything that happens in it is not due to chance, the fatality, but it's intelligent work of citizens. There is no one who is in it to the window and watch as the few sacrifice themselves, they sacrifice in the veins cut, and one who stands at the window, lying in wait, should take advantage of the little good that the activity of a few outbursts and his attorney revile the disappointment sacrificed, fainting because he failed in his attempt.
Vivo, are partisan. So do not hate those sides, I hate the indifferent!
Antonio Gramsci
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