The following information is used for educational purposes only.
Filmed November 2012 at TEDSalon London Fall 2012
All it takes is 10 mindful minutes
When is the last time you did absolutely nothing for 10 whole minutes? Not texting, talking or even thinking? Mindfulness expert Andy Puddicombe describes the transformative power of doing just that: Refreshing your mind for 10 minutes a day, simply by being mindful and experiencing the present moment. (No need for incense or sitting in uncomfortable positions.)
Transcript:
We live in an incredibly busy world. The pace of life is often frantic, our minds are always busy, and we're always doing something.
So with that in mind, I'd like you just to take a moment to think, when did you last take any time to do nothing? Just 10 minutes, undisturbed? And when I say nothing, I do mean nothing. So that's no emailing, texting, no Internet, no TV, no chatting, no eating, no reading. Not even sitting there reminiscing about the past or planning for the future. Simply doing nothing. I see a lot of very blank faces.
(Laughter)
You probably have to go a long way back.
And this is an extraordinary thing, right? We're talking about our mind. The mind, our most valuable and precious resource, through which we experience every single moment of our life. The mind that we rely upon to be happy, content, emotionally stable as individuals, and at the same time, to be kind and thoughtful and considerate in our relationships with others. This is the same mind that we depend upon to be focused, creative, spontaneous, and to perform at our very best in everything that we do. And yet, we don't take any time out to look after it. In fact, we spend more time looking after our cars, our clothes and our hair than we -- okay, maybe not our hair,
(Laughter)
but you see where I'm going.
The result, of course, is that we get stressed. You know, the mind whizzes away like a washing machine going round and round, lots of difficult, confusing emotions, and we don't really know how to deal with that. And the sad fact is that we are so distracted that we're no longer present in the world in which we live. We miss out on the things that are most important to us, and the crazy thing is that everybody just assumes, that's the way life is, so we've just kind of got to get on with it. That's really not how it has to be.
So I was about 11 when I went along to my first meditation class. And trust me, it had all the stereotypes that you can imagine, the sitting cross-legged on the floor, the incense, the herbal tea, the vegetarians, the whole deal, but my mom was going and I was intrigued, so I went along with her. I'd also seen a few kung fu movies, and secretly I kind of thought I might be able to learn how to fly, but I was very young at the time. Now as I was there, I guess, like a lot of people, I assumed that it was just an aspirin for the mind. You get stressed, you do some meditation. I hadn't really thought that it could be sort of preventative in nature, until I was about 20, when a number of things happened in my life in quite quick succession, really serious things which just flipped my life upside down and all of a sudden I was inundated with thoughts, inundated with difficult emotions that I didn't know how to cope with. Every time I sort of pushed one down, another one would pop back up again. It was a really very stressful time.
I guess we all deal with stress in different ways. Some people will bury themselves in work, grateful for the distraction. Others will turn to their friends, their family, looking for support. Some people hit the bottle, start taking medication. My own way of dealing with it was to become a monk. So I quit my degree, I headed off to the Himalayas, I became a monk, and I started studying meditation.
People often ask me what I learned from that time. Well, obviously it changed things. Let's face it, becoming a celibate monk is going to change a number of things. But it was more than that. It taught me -- it gave me a greater appreciation, an understanding for the present moment. By that I mean not being lost in thought, not being distracted, not being overwhelmed by difficult emotions, but instead learning how to be in the here and now, how to be mindful, how to be present.
I think the present moment is so underrated. It sounds so ordinary, and yet we spend so little time in the present moment that it's anything but ordinary. There was a research paper that came out of Harvard, just recently, that said on average, our minds are lost in thought almost 47 percent of the time. 47 percent. At the same time, this sort of constant mind-wandering is also a direct cause of unhappiness. Now we're not here for that long anyway, but to spend almost half of our life lost in thought and potentially quite unhappy, I don't know, it just kind of seems tragic, actually, especially when there's something we can do about it, when there's a positive, practical, achievable, scientifically proven technique which allows our mind to be more healthy, to be more mindful and less distracted.
And the beauty of it is that even though it need only take about 10 minutes a day, it impacts our entire life. But we need to know how to do it. We need an exercise. We need a framework to learn how to be more mindful. That's essentially what meditation is. It's familiarizing ourselves with the present moment. But we also need to know how to approach it in the right way to get the best from it. And that's what these are for, in case you've been wondering, because most people assume that meditation is all about stopping thoughts, getting rid of emotions, somehow controlling the mind, but actually it's quite different from that. It's more about stepping back, sort of seeing the thought clearly, witnessing it coming and going, emotions coming and going without judgment, but with a relaxed, focused mind.
So for example, right now, if I focus too much on the balls, then there's no way I can relax and talk to you at the same time. Equally, if I relax too much talking to you, there's no way I can focus on the balls. I'm going to drop them. Now in life, and in meditation, there'll be times when the focus becomes a little bit too intense, and life starts to feel a bit like this. It's a very uncomfortable way to live life, when you get this tight and stressed. At other times, we might take our foot off the gas a little bit too much, and things just become a sort of little bit like this. Of course in meditation --
(Snores)
we're going to end up falling asleep. So we're looking for a balance, a focused relaxation where we can allow thoughts to come and go without all the usual involvement.
Now, what usually happens when we're learning to be mindful is that we get distracted by a thought. Let's say this is an anxious thought. Everything's going fine, and we see the anxious thought. "Oh, I didn't realize I was worried about that." You go back to it, repeat it. "Oh, I am worried. I really am worried. Wow, there's so much anxiety." And before we know it, right, we're anxious about feeling anxious.
(Laughter)
You know, this is crazy. We do this all the time, even on an everyday level. If you think about the last time you had a wobbly tooth. You know it's wobbly, and you know that it hurts. But what do you do every 20, 30 seconds?
(Mumbling)
It does hurt. And we reinforce the storyline, right? And we just keep telling ourselves, and we do it all the time. And it's only in learning to watch the mind in this way that we can start to let go of those storylines and patterns of mind. But when you sit down and you watch the mind in this way, you might see many different patterns. You might find a mind that's really restless and -- the whole time. Don't be surprised if you feel a bit agitated in your body when you sit down to do nothing and your mind feels like that. You might find a mind that's very dull and boring, and it's just, almost mechanical, it just seems it's as if you're getting up, going to work, eat, sleep, get up, work. Or it might just be that one little nagging thought that just goes round and round your mind.
Well, whatever it is, meditation offers the opportunity, the potential to step back and to get a different perspective, to see that things aren't always as they appear. We can't change every little thing that happens to us in life, but we can change the way that we experience it. That's the potential of meditation, of mindfulness. You don't have to burn any incense, and you definitely don't have to sit on the floor. All you need to do is to take 10 minutes out a day to step back, to familiarize yourself with the present moment so that you get to experience a greater sense of focus, calm and clarity in your life.
Thank you very much.
(Applause)
In this blog, teachers, students and all those who have some kind of interest in the English language will find useful, interesting, curious and funny things to be used in their classes or for their personal enjoyment.
Sunday, August 27, 2017
GEN/GINT-Mosquitos mutantes: la promesa y el riesgo de la nueva edición genética
The following information is used for educational purposes only.
26-08-2017
Mosquitos mutantes: la promesa y el riesgo de la nueva edición genética
Santiago Bilinkis
Si te pido que pienses en animales asesinos es muy posible que vengan a tu memoria tiburones, cocodrilos o leones. Pero, como suele sucedernos, somos bastante malos identificando riesgos reales de fantasías. A pesar del efecto sobre nuestra conciencia colectiva del célebre filme de Spielberg, los tiburones solo matan en promedio a seis personas al año. El rey de la selva, por su parte, es responsable por poco más de veinte. Con mil muertes anuales, el cocodrilo supera por bastante a los otros.
Todos estos salvajes predadores empalidecen frente a las 35.000 muertes anuales causadas por un animal mucho más temible: el perro. Pero incluso éste está muy lejos del animal más asesino que existe en nuestro planeta, causante de veinte veces más muertes que los demás sumados. ¿Te diste cuenta ya de qué peligrosísima criatura estamos hablando? Con 750.000 víctimas por año, el trono le corresponde… al mosquito. Portador de enfermedades como el dengue, la fiebre amarilla y la malaria, ni siquiera los seres humanos matan tantas personas como él.
Se encuentran referencias a la lucha contra ellos ya en el Antiguo Egipto y en el Imperio Romano. A lo largo de la historia, hemos ido intentando combatirlos con repelentes, venenos y otros métodos: después de que los mosquitos mataran decenas de miles de franceses durante la primera etapa de la construcción del Canal de Panamá, los estadounidenses retomaron la tarea secando los pantanos para bloquear la reproducción de los insectos.
Erradicar la malaria y las demás enfermedades que estos transmiten requeriría de millones de redes protectoras, el desarrollo de vacunas y la difusión de insecticidas, por un costo de cientos de miles de millones de dólares. Pese a los intentos realizados hasta ahora por instituciones como la Fundación Gates, las víctimas se siguen acumulando, especialmente en los países más pobres. Pero nuestros métodos se están sofisticando y por primera vez tenemos la chance concreta de reducir drásticamente el impacto de estos inesperados asesinos.
Por un lado, una empresa creada por Google acaba de presentar un robot capaz de criar y liberar controladamente un millón de mosquitos a la semana. Pero hay una trampa: los insectos son machos y están infectados con una bacteria que los deja estériles. Las hembras se aparean con ellos pero los huevos que resultan no se desarrollan, reduciendo la población en la siguiente generación. La máquina está actualmente siendo probada liberando a los insectos en California.
Por otro, quizás la mayor oportunidad resida en la manipulación genética directa utilizando el método conocido como CRISPR-Cas9, el sistema de edición de ADN que permite quitar fragmentos y reemplazarlos por otros en el genoma de seres vivientes. Operando directo sobre el código genético, es hoy posible crear mosquitos transgénicos que resultan resistentes a las bacterias que causan las enfermedades que transmiten. De este modo, el insecto mutante no puede infectarse con malaria o dengue y por ende deja de esparcir estas enfermedades.
¿Cuál sería el impacto sobre los ecosistemas si, expandiendo la esterilidad, forzáramos la extinción de los mosquitos? ¿Qué pasaría si alguno de estos genes manipulados presenta efectos inesperados o se expande a otras especies? Como siempre sucede con las tecnologías más poderosas, la creciente capacidad que tenemos hoy de manipular la genética e incidir sobre nuestro entorno conlleva una enorme promesa y una igualmente grande responsabilidad.
Esta nota fue publicada en la Revista La Nación del domingo 27 de agosto de 2017
Fuente: La Nación Revista/http://bilinkis.com/2017/08/mosquitos-mutantes-la-promesa-riesgo-la-nueva-edicion-genetica/
26-08-2017
Mosquitos mutantes: la promesa y el riesgo de la nueva edición genética
Santiago Bilinkis
Si te pido que pienses en animales asesinos es muy posible que vengan a tu memoria tiburones, cocodrilos o leones. Pero, como suele sucedernos, somos bastante malos identificando riesgos reales de fantasías. A pesar del efecto sobre nuestra conciencia colectiva del célebre filme de Spielberg, los tiburones solo matan en promedio a seis personas al año. El rey de la selva, por su parte, es responsable por poco más de veinte. Con mil muertes anuales, el cocodrilo supera por bastante a los otros.
Todos estos salvajes predadores empalidecen frente a las 35.000 muertes anuales causadas por un animal mucho más temible: el perro. Pero incluso éste está muy lejos del animal más asesino que existe en nuestro planeta, causante de veinte veces más muertes que los demás sumados. ¿Te diste cuenta ya de qué peligrosísima criatura estamos hablando? Con 750.000 víctimas por año, el trono le corresponde… al mosquito. Portador de enfermedades como el dengue, la fiebre amarilla y la malaria, ni siquiera los seres humanos matan tantas personas como él.
Se encuentran referencias a la lucha contra ellos ya en el Antiguo Egipto y en el Imperio Romano. A lo largo de la historia, hemos ido intentando combatirlos con repelentes, venenos y otros métodos: después de que los mosquitos mataran decenas de miles de franceses durante la primera etapa de la construcción del Canal de Panamá, los estadounidenses retomaron la tarea secando los pantanos para bloquear la reproducción de los insectos.
Erradicar la malaria y las demás enfermedades que estos transmiten requeriría de millones de redes protectoras, el desarrollo de vacunas y la difusión de insecticidas, por un costo de cientos de miles de millones de dólares. Pese a los intentos realizados hasta ahora por instituciones como la Fundación Gates, las víctimas se siguen acumulando, especialmente en los países más pobres. Pero nuestros métodos se están sofisticando y por primera vez tenemos la chance concreta de reducir drásticamente el impacto de estos inesperados asesinos.
Por un lado, una empresa creada por Google acaba de presentar un robot capaz de criar y liberar controladamente un millón de mosquitos a la semana. Pero hay una trampa: los insectos son machos y están infectados con una bacteria que los deja estériles. Las hembras se aparean con ellos pero los huevos que resultan no se desarrollan, reduciendo la población en la siguiente generación. La máquina está actualmente siendo probada liberando a los insectos en California.
Por otro, quizás la mayor oportunidad resida en la manipulación genética directa utilizando el método conocido como CRISPR-Cas9, el sistema de edición de ADN que permite quitar fragmentos y reemplazarlos por otros en el genoma de seres vivientes. Operando directo sobre el código genético, es hoy posible crear mosquitos transgénicos que resultan resistentes a las bacterias que causan las enfermedades que transmiten. De este modo, el insecto mutante no puede infectarse con malaria o dengue y por ende deja de esparcir estas enfermedades.
¿Cuál sería el impacto sobre los ecosistemas si, expandiendo la esterilidad, forzáramos la extinción de los mosquitos? ¿Qué pasaría si alguno de estos genes manipulados presenta efectos inesperados o se expande a otras especies? Como siempre sucede con las tecnologías más poderosas, la creciente capacidad que tenemos hoy de manipular la genética e incidir sobre nuestro entorno conlleva una enorme promesa y una igualmente grande responsabilidad.
Esta nota fue publicada en la Revista La Nación del domingo 27 de agosto de 2017
Fuente: La Nación Revista/http://bilinkis.com/2017/08/mosquitos-mutantes-la-promesa-riesgo-la-nueva-edicion-genetica/
GINT-Cómo llegar lejos sin moverse
The following information is used for educational purposes only.
Cómo llegar lejos sin moverse
27 DE AGOSTO DE 2017
Sergio Sinay
LA NACION
No es lo mismo ser veloz que estar apurado. El gran médico, ensayista y pensador español Gregorio Marañón (1887-1960), eminente endocrinólogo, investigador de los fenómenos psicológicos y delicado escritor, supo advertirlo. "La rapidez es una virtud que puede engendrar fácilmente el vicio de la prisa", dijo. En una era, como es la presente, en la que prevalecen la ansiedad, el apuro, la fugacidad, el bullicio, la taquicardia, la hiperventilación y la velocidad porque sí, resulta fácil verificar que Marañón estaba en lo cierto. Una sensación muy extendida y compartida en este tiempo es la de estar siempre apurado, de correr contrarreloj, de ser exigido por urgencias y demandas externas. Tanto es así que ya hace una década la Organización Mundial de la Salud (OMS) adelantó que el estrés sería acaso la más grave epidemia del siglo XXI. Lo notable es que no lo provoca ningún virus ni bacteria, sino la conducta humana.
El rabino y teólogo Abraham Joshua Herschel (1907-1972), que acompañaba a Martin Luther King en la lucha por los derechos civiles en los Estados Unidos, sostenía la necesidad de "construir una catedral en el tiempo antes que en el espacio". En un breve libro de estilo exquisito, titulado El arte de la quietud (que también puede encontrarse como charla TED, en internet), el escritor y periodista británico Pico Iyer describe esa catedral como "un amplio espacio vacío por el que podemos caminar sin agendas, como por los pasillos de Notre Dame, iluminados por el sol". Iyer se dedicó a construir una catedral así para él mismo luego de una intensa vida mundana en la que fue redactor de la revista Time, corresponsal internacional y escritor de viajes. Intensidad y movimiento signaban su vida. "A pesar de todas las emociones cotidianas, algo me decía que estaba corriendo tan de prisa de un lado a otro que nunca tenía ocasión de saber a dónde iba". Ese algo hizo crisis en él y lo llevó a refugiarse durante un año en una habitación en un barrio humilde de Kioto, la antigua capital japonesa.
A partir de entonces Iyer propugna, perfecciona e invita a experimentar lo que llama la gran aventura de ir a ninguna parte. Dejar de correr porque sí y sin saber a hacia dónde o para qué, darse tiempo para contemplar, escuchar y atender las propias necesidades y voces interiores, admirar la maravilla del mundo, sobre todo en sus pequeños detalles (un atardecer, el vuelo de un pájaro, un sonido, un silencio, una textura, una sensación). No es necesario seguir ninguna regla de meditación, él mismo no lo hace. Basta con un lapso en el cual hacer nada. Simplemente estar. Entonces resulta posible descubrir que sin desplazamientos, sin carreras, sin bullicios estridentes, sin pantallas, sin auriculares, se abren horizontes infinitos, insospechados, conmovedores.
Iyer recoge así la idea del poeta y filósofo naturalista Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), según la cual lo importante no es lo que lejos que llegues, sino lo vivo que estés. Puede ocurrir, en sentido metafórico, que muchos de los que tanto corren sean, en términos existenciales, muertos vivientes. Una sencilla manera de iniciar el gran viaje a ninguna parte, según este escritor, consiste en dedicar unos minutos del día a hacer nada. Nada. Pero no por defecto, sino por propia determinación. Y a respetar ese tiempo sagrado hasta llevarlo de pequeña capilla a gran catedral. Porque, después de todo, como advirtió Blas Pascal, el matemático y filósofo francés del siglo XVII: "Toda la infelicidad del ser humano nace del simple hecho de no poder quedarse quieto en una habitación". Es decir, de no poder acompañarse a sí mismo en el más apasionante de los viajes.
Fuente: La Nación Revista
Cómo llegar lejos sin moverse
27 DE AGOSTO DE 2017
Sergio Sinay
LA NACION
No es lo mismo ser veloz que estar apurado. El gran médico, ensayista y pensador español Gregorio Marañón (1887-1960), eminente endocrinólogo, investigador de los fenómenos psicológicos y delicado escritor, supo advertirlo. "La rapidez es una virtud que puede engendrar fácilmente el vicio de la prisa", dijo. En una era, como es la presente, en la que prevalecen la ansiedad, el apuro, la fugacidad, el bullicio, la taquicardia, la hiperventilación y la velocidad porque sí, resulta fácil verificar que Marañón estaba en lo cierto. Una sensación muy extendida y compartida en este tiempo es la de estar siempre apurado, de correr contrarreloj, de ser exigido por urgencias y demandas externas. Tanto es así que ya hace una década la Organización Mundial de la Salud (OMS) adelantó que el estrés sería acaso la más grave epidemia del siglo XXI. Lo notable es que no lo provoca ningún virus ni bacteria, sino la conducta humana.
El rabino y teólogo Abraham Joshua Herschel (1907-1972), que acompañaba a Martin Luther King en la lucha por los derechos civiles en los Estados Unidos, sostenía la necesidad de "construir una catedral en el tiempo antes que en el espacio". En un breve libro de estilo exquisito, titulado El arte de la quietud (que también puede encontrarse como charla TED, en internet), el escritor y periodista británico Pico Iyer describe esa catedral como "un amplio espacio vacío por el que podemos caminar sin agendas, como por los pasillos de Notre Dame, iluminados por el sol". Iyer se dedicó a construir una catedral así para él mismo luego de una intensa vida mundana en la que fue redactor de la revista Time, corresponsal internacional y escritor de viajes. Intensidad y movimiento signaban su vida. "A pesar de todas las emociones cotidianas, algo me decía que estaba corriendo tan de prisa de un lado a otro que nunca tenía ocasión de saber a dónde iba". Ese algo hizo crisis en él y lo llevó a refugiarse durante un año en una habitación en un barrio humilde de Kioto, la antigua capital japonesa.
A partir de entonces Iyer propugna, perfecciona e invita a experimentar lo que llama la gran aventura de ir a ninguna parte. Dejar de correr porque sí y sin saber a hacia dónde o para qué, darse tiempo para contemplar, escuchar y atender las propias necesidades y voces interiores, admirar la maravilla del mundo, sobre todo en sus pequeños detalles (un atardecer, el vuelo de un pájaro, un sonido, un silencio, una textura, una sensación). No es necesario seguir ninguna regla de meditación, él mismo no lo hace. Basta con un lapso en el cual hacer nada. Simplemente estar. Entonces resulta posible descubrir que sin desplazamientos, sin carreras, sin bullicios estridentes, sin pantallas, sin auriculares, se abren horizontes infinitos, insospechados, conmovedores.
Iyer recoge así la idea del poeta y filósofo naturalista Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), según la cual lo importante no es lo que lejos que llegues, sino lo vivo que estés. Puede ocurrir, en sentido metafórico, que muchos de los que tanto corren sean, en términos existenciales, muertos vivientes. Una sencilla manera de iniciar el gran viaje a ninguna parte, según este escritor, consiste en dedicar unos minutos del día a hacer nada. Nada. Pero no por defecto, sino por propia determinación. Y a respetar ese tiempo sagrado hasta llevarlo de pequeña capilla a gran catedral. Porque, después de todo, como advirtió Blas Pascal, el matemático y filósofo francés del siglo XVII: "Toda la infelicidad del ser humano nace del simple hecho de no poder quedarse quieto en una habitación". Es decir, de no poder acompañarse a sí mismo en el más apasionante de los viajes.
Fuente: La Nación Revista
GINT-TED Talks-In praise of slowness by Carl Honoré
The following information is used for educational purposes only.
Filmed July 2005 at TEDGlobal 2005
In praise of slowness
Journalist Carl Honore believes the Western world's emphasis on speed erodes health, productivity and quality of life. But there's a backlash brewing, as everyday people start putting the brakes on their all-too-modern lives.
Transcript:
What I'd like to start off with is an observation, which is that if I've learned anything over the last year, it's that the supreme irony of publishing a book about slowness is that you have to go around promoting it really fast. I seem to spend most of my time these days zipping from city to city, studio to studio, interview to interview, serving up the book in really tiny bite-size chunks. Because everyone these days wants to know how to slow down, but they want to know how to slow down really quickly. So ... so I did a spot on CNN the other day where I actually spent more time in makeup than I did talking on air. And I think that -- that's not really surprising though, is it? Because that's kind of the world that we live in now, a world stuck in fast-forward.
A world obsessed with speed, with doing everything faster, with cramming more and more into less and less time. Every moment of the day feels like a race against the clock. To borrow a phrase from Carrie Fisher, which is in my bio there; I'll just toss it out again -- "These days even instant gratification takes too long." (Laughter) And if you think about how we to try to make things better, what do we do? No, we speed them up, don't we? So we used to dial; now we speed dial. We used to read; now we speed read. We used to walk; now we speed walk. And of course, we used to date and now we speed date. And even things that are by their very nature slow -- we try and speed them up too. So I was in New York recently, and I walked past a gym that had an advertisement in the window for a new course, a new evening course. And it was for, you guessed it, speed yoga. So this -- the perfect solution for time-starved professionals who want to, you know, salute the sun, but only want to give over about 20 minutes to it. I mean, these are sort of the extreme examples, and they're amusing and good to laugh at.
But there's a very serious point, and I think that in the headlong dash of daily life, we often lose sight of the damage that this roadrunner form of living does to us. We're so marinated in the culture of speed that we almost fail to notice the toll it takes on every aspect of our lives -- on our health, our diet, our work, our relationships, the environment and our community. And sometimes it takes a wake-up call, doesn't it, to alert us to the fact that we're hurrying through our lives, instead of actually living them; that we're living the fast life, instead of the good life. And I think for many people, that wake-up call takes the form of an illness. You know, a burnout, or eventually the body says, "I can't take it anymore," and throws in the towel. Or maybe a relationship goes up in smoke because we haven't had the time, or the patience, or the tranquility, to be with the other person, to listen to them.
And my wake-up call came when I started reading bedtime stories to my son, and I found that at the end of day, I would go into his room and I just couldn't slow down -- you know, I'd be speed reading "The Cat In The Hat." I'd be -- you know, I'd be skipping lines here, paragraphs there, sometimes a whole page, and of course, my little boy knew the book inside out, so we would quarrel. And what should have been the most relaxing, the most intimate, the most tender moment of the day, when a dad sits down to read to his son, became instead this kind of gladiatorial battle of wills, a clash between my speed and his slowness. And this went on for some time, until I caught myself scanning a newspaper article with timesaving tips for fast people. And one of them made reference to a series of books called "The One-Minute Bedtime Story." And I wince saying those words now, but my first reaction at the time was very different. My first reflex was to say, "Hallelujah -- what a great idea! This is exactly what I'm looking for to speed up bedtime even more." But thankfully, a light bulb went on over my head, and my next reaction was very different, and I took a step back, and I thought, "Whoa -- you know, has it really come to this? Am I really in such a hurry that I'm prepared to fob off my son with a sound byte at the end of the day?" And I put away the newspaper -- and I was getting on a plane -- and I sat there, and I did something I hadn't done for a long time -- which is I did nothing. I just thought, and I thought long and hard. And by the time I got off that plane, I'd decided I wanted to do something about it. I wanted to investigate this whole roadrunner culture, and what it was doing to me and to everyone else.
And I had two questions in my head. The first was, how did we get so fast? And the second is, is it possible, or even desirable, to slow down? Now, if you think about how our world got so accelerated, the usual suspects rear their heads. You think of, you know, urbanization, consumerism, the workplace, technology. But I think if you cut through those forces, you get to what might be the deeper driver, the nub of the question, which is how we think about time itself. In other cultures, time is cyclical. It's seen as moving in great, unhurried circles. It's always renewing and refreshing itself. Whereas in the West, time is linear. It's a finite resource; it's always draining away. You either use it, or lose it. "Time is money," as Benjamin Franklin said. And I think what that does to us psychologically is it creates an equation. Time is scarce, so what do we do? Well -- well, we speed up, don't we? We try and do more and more with less and less time. We turn every moment of every day into a race to the finish line -- a finish line, incidentally, that we never reach, but a finish line nonetheless. And I guess that the question is, is it possible to break free from that mindset? And thankfully, the answer is yes, because what I discovered, when I began looking around, that there is a global backlash against this culture that tells us that faster is always better, and that busier is best.
Right across the world, people are doing the unthinkable: they're slowing down, and finding that, although conventional wisdom tells you that if you slow down, you're road kill, the opposite turns out to be true: that by slowing down at the right moments, people find that they do everything better. They eat better; they make love better; they exercise better; they work better; they live better. And, in this kind of cauldron of moments and places and acts of deceleration, lie what a lot of people now refer to as the "International Slow Movement."
Now if you'll permit me a small act of hypocrisy, I'll just give you a very quick overview of what's going on inside the Slow Movement. If you think of food, many of you will have heard of the Slow Food movement. Started in Italy, but has spread across the world, and now has 100,000 members in 50 countries. And it's driven by a very simple and sensible message, which is that we get more pleasure and more health from our food when we cultivate, cook and consume it at a reasonable pace. I think also the explosion of the organic farming movement, and the renaissance of farmers' markets, are other illustrations of the fact that people are desperate to get away from eating and cooking and cultivating their food on an industrial timetable. They want to get back to slower rhythms. And out of the Slow Food movement has grown something called the Slow Cities movement, which has started in Italy, but has spread right across Europe and beyond. And in this, towns begin to rethink how they organize the urban landscape, so that people are encouraged to slow down and smell the roses and connect with one another. So they might curb traffic, or put in a park bench, or some green space.
And in some ways, these changes add up to more than the sum of their parts, because I think when a Slow City becomes officially a Slow City, it's kind of like a philosophical declaration. It's saying to the rest of world, and to the people in that town, that we believe that in the 21st century, slowness has a role to play. In medicine, I think a lot of people are deeply disillusioned with the kind of quick-fix mentality you find in conventional medicine. And millions of them around the world are turning to complementary and alternative forms of medicine, which tend to tap into sort of slower, gentler, more holistic forms of healing. Now, obviously the jury is out on many of these complementary therapies, and I personally doubt that the coffee enema will ever, you know, gain mainstream approval. But other treatments such as acupuncture and massage, and even just relaxation, clearly have some kind of benefit. And blue-chip medical colleges everywhere are starting to study these things to find out how they work, and what we might learn from them.
Sex. There's an awful lot of fast sex around, isn't there? I was coming to -- well -- no pun intended there. I was making my way, let's say, slowly to Oxford, and I went through a news agent, and I saw a magazine, a men's magazine, and it said on the front, "How to bring your partner to orgasm in 30 seconds." So, you know, even sex is on a stopwatch these days. Now, you know, I like a quickie as much as the next person, but I think that there's an awful lot to be gained from slow sex -- from slowing down in the bedroom. You know, you tap into that -- those deeper, sort of, psychological, emotional, spiritual currents, and you get a better orgasm with the buildup. You can get more bang for your buck, let's say. I mean, the Pointer Sisters said it most eloquently, didn't they, when they sang the praises of "a lover with a slow hand." Now, we all laughed at Sting a few years ago when he went Tantric, but you fast-forward a few years, and now you find couples of all ages flocking to workshops, or maybe just on their own in their own bedrooms, finding ways to put on the brakes and have better sex. And of course, in Italy where -- I mean, Italians always seem to know where to find their pleasure -- they've launched an official Slow Sex movement.
The workplace. Right across much of the world -- North America being a notable exception -- working hours have been coming down. And Europe is an example of that, and people finding that their quality of life improves as they're working less, and also that their hourly productivity goes up. Now, clearly there are problems with the 35-hour workweek in France -- too much, too soon, too rigid. But other countries in Europe, notably the Nordic countries, are showing that it's possible to have a kick-ass economy without being a workaholic. And Norway, Sweden, Denmark and Finland now rank among the top six most competitive nations on Earth, and they work the kind of hours that would make the average American weep with envy. And if you go beyond sort of the country level, down at the micro-company level, more and more companies now are realizing that they need to allow their staff either to work fewer hours or just to unplug -- to take a lunch break, or to go sit in a quiet room, to switch off their Blackberrys and laptops -- you at the back -- mobile phones, during the work day or on the weekend, so that they have time to recharge and for the brain to slide into that kind of creative mode of thought.
It's not just, though, these days, adults who overwork, though, is it? It's children, too. I'm 37, and my childhood ended in the mid-'80s, and I look at kids now, and I'm just amazed by the way they race around with more homework, more tutoring, more extracurriculars than we would ever have conceived of a generation ago. And some of the most heartrending emails that I get on my website are actually from adolescents hovering on the edge of burnout, pleading with me to write to their parents, to help them slow down, to help them get off this full-throttle treadmill. But thankfully, there is a backlash there in parenting as well, and you're finding that, you know, towns in the United States are now banding together and banning extracurriculars on a particular day of the month, so that people can, you know, decompress and have some family time, and slow down.
Homework is another thing. There are homework bans springing up all over the developed world in schools which had been piling on the homework for years, and now they're discovering that less can be more. So there was a case up in Scotland recently where a fee-paying, high-achieving private school banned homework for everyone under the age of 13, and the high-achieving parents freaked out and said, "What are you -- you know, our kids will fall" -- the headmaster said, "No, no, your children need to slow down at the end of the day." And just this last month, the exam results came in, and in math, science, marks went up 20 percent on average last year. And I think what's very revealing is that the elite universities, who are often cited as the reason that people drive their kids and hothouse them so much, are starting to notice the caliber of students coming to them is falling. These kids have wonderful marks; they have CVs jammed with extracurriculars, to the point that would make your eyes water. But they lack spark; they lack the ability to think creatively and think outside -- they don't know how to dream. And so what these Ivy League schools, and Oxford and Cambridge and so on, are starting to send a message to parents and students that they need to put on the brakes a little bit. And in Harvard, for instance, they send out a letter to undergraduates -- freshmen -- telling them that they'll get more out of life, and more out of Harvard, if they put on the brakes, if they do less, but give time to things, the time that things need, to enjoy them, to savor them. And even if they sometimes do nothing at all. And that letter is called -- very revealing, I think -- "Slow Down!" -- with an exclamation mark on the end.
So wherever you look, the message, it seems to me, is the same: that less is very often more, that slower is very often better. But that said, of course, it's not that easy to slow down, is it? I mean, you heard that I got a speeding ticket while I was researching my book on the benefits of slowness, and that's true, but that's not all of it. I was actually en route to a dinner held by Slow Food at the time. And if that's not shaming enough, I got that ticket in Italy. And if any of you have ever driven on an Italian highway, you'll have a pretty good idea of how fast I was going.
(Laughter)
But why is it so hard to slow down? I think there are various reasons. One is that speed is fun, you know, speed is sexy. It's all that adrenaline rush. It's hard to give it up. I think there's a kind of metaphysical dimension -- that speed becomes a way of walling ourselves off from the bigger, deeper questions. We fill our head with distraction, with busyness, so that we don't have to ask, am I well? Am I happy? Are my children growing up right? Are politicians making good decisions on my behalf? Another reason -- although I think, perhaps, the most powerful reason -- why we find it hard to slow down is the cultural taboo that we've erected against slowing down. "Slow" is a dirty word in our culture. It's a byword for "lazy," "slacker," for being somebody who gives up. You know, "he's a bit slow." It's actually synonymous with being stupid.
I guess what the Slow Movement -- the purpose of the Slow Movement, or its main goal, really, is to tackle that taboo, and to say that yes, sometimes slow is not the answer, that there is such a thing as "bad slow." You know, I got stuck on the M25, which is a ring road around London, recently, and spent three-and-a-half hours there. And I can tell you, that's really bad slow. But the new idea, the sort of revolutionary idea, of the Slow Movement, is that there is such a thing as "good slow," too. And good slow is, you know, taking the time to eat a meal with your family, with the TV switched off. Or taking the time to look at a problem from all angles in the office to make the best decision at work. Or even simply just taking the time to slow down and savor your life.
Now, one of the things that I found most uplifting about all of this stuff that's happened around the book since it came out, is the reaction to it. And I knew that when my book on slowness came out, it would be welcomed by the New Age brigade, but it's also been taken up, with great gusto, by the corporate world -- you know, business press, but also big companies and leadership organizations. Because people at the top of the chain, people like you, I think, are starting to realize that there's too much speed in the system, there's too much busyness, and it's time to find, or get back to that lost art of shifting gears. Another encouraging sign, I think, is that it's not just in the developed world that this idea's been taken up. In the developing world, in countries that are on the verge of making that leap into first world status -- China, Brazil, Thailand, Poland, and so on -- these countries have embraced the idea of the Slow Movement, many people in them, and there's a debate going on in their media, on the streets. Because I think they're looking at the West, and they're saying, "Well, we like that aspect of what you've got, but we're not so sure about that."
So all of that said, is it, I guess, is it possible? That's really the main question before us today. Is it possible to slow down? And I'm happy to be able to say to you that the answer is a resounding yes. And I present myself as Exhibit A, a kind of reformed and rehabilitated speed-aholic. I still love speed. You know, I live in London, and I work as a journalist, and I enjoy the buzz and the busyness, and the adrenaline rush that comes from both of those things. I play squash and ice hockey, two very fast sports, and I wouldn't give them up for the world. But I've also, over the last year or so, got in touch with my inner tortoise.
(Laughter)
And what that means is that I no longer overload myself gratuitously. My default mode is no longer to be a rush-aholic. I no longer hear time's winged chariot drawing near, or at least not as much as I did before. I can actually hear it now, because I see my time is ticking off. And the upshot of all of that is that I actually feel a lot happier, healthier, more productive than I ever have. I feel like I'm living my life rather than actually just racing through it. And perhaps, the most important measure of the success of this is that I feel that my relationships are a lot deeper, richer, stronger.
And for me, I guess, the litmus test for whether this would work, and what it would mean, was always going to be bedtime stories, because that's sort of where the journey began. And there too the news is rosy. You know, at the end of the day, I go into my son's room. I don't wear a watch. I switch off my computer, so I can't hear the email pinging into the basket, and I just slow down to his pace and we read. And because children have their own tempo and internal clock, they don't do quality time, where you schedule 10 minutes for them to open up to you. They need you to move at their rhythm. I find that 10 minutes into a story, you know, my son will suddenly say, "You know, something happened in the playground today that really bothered me." And we'll go off and have a conversation on that. And I now find that bedtime stories used to be a box on my to-do list, something that I dreaded, because it was so slow and I had to get through it quickly. It's become my reward at the end of the day, something I really cherish. And I have a kind of Hollywood ending to my talk this afternoon, which goes a little bit like this:
a few months ago, I was getting ready to go on another book tour, and I had my bags packed. I was downstairs by the front door, and I was waiting for a taxi, and my son came down the stairs and he'd made a card for me. And he was carrying it. He'd gone and stapled two cards, very like these, together, and put a sticker of his favorite character, Tintin, on the front. And he said to me, or he handed this to me, and I read it, and it said, "To Daddy, love Benjamin." And I thought, "Aw, that's really sweet. Is that a good luck on the book tour card?" And he said, "No, no, no, Daddy -- this is a card for being the best story reader in the world." And I thought, "Yeah, you know, this slowing down thing really does work."
Thank you very much.
Filmed July 2005 at TEDGlobal 2005
In praise of slowness
Journalist Carl Honore believes the Western world's emphasis on speed erodes health, productivity and quality of life. But there's a backlash brewing, as everyday people start putting the brakes on their all-too-modern lives.
Transcript:
What I'd like to start off with is an observation, which is that if I've learned anything over the last year, it's that the supreme irony of publishing a book about slowness is that you have to go around promoting it really fast. I seem to spend most of my time these days zipping from city to city, studio to studio, interview to interview, serving up the book in really tiny bite-size chunks. Because everyone these days wants to know how to slow down, but they want to know how to slow down really quickly. So ... so I did a spot on CNN the other day where I actually spent more time in makeup than I did talking on air. And I think that -- that's not really surprising though, is it? Because that's kind of the world that we live in now, a world stuck in fast-forward.
A world obsessed with speed, with doing everything faster, with cramming more and more into less and less time. Every moment of the day feels like a race against the clock. To borrow a phrase from Carrie Fisher, which is in my bio there; I'll just toss it out again -- "These days even instant gratification takes too long." (Laughter) And if you think about how we to try to make things better, what do we do? No, we speed them up, don't we? So we used to dial; now we speed dial. We used to read; now we speed read. We used to walk; now we speed walk. And of course, we used to date and now we speed date. And even things that are by their very nature slow -- we try and speed them up too. So I was in New York recently, and I walked past a gym that had an advertisement in the window for a new course, a new evening course. And it was for, you guessed it, speed yoga. So this -- the perfect solution for time-starved professionals who want to, you know, salute the sun, but only want to give over about 20 minutes to it. I mean, these are sort of the extreme examples, and they're amusing and good to laugh at.
But there's a very serious point, and I think that in the headlong dash of daily life, we often lose sight of the damage that this roadrunner form of living does to us. We're so marinated in the culture of speed that we almost fail to notice the toll it takes on every aspect of our lives -- on our health, our diet, our work, our relationships, the environment and our community. And sometimes it takes a wake-up call, doesn't it, to alert us to the fact that we're hurrying through our lives, instead of actually living them; that we're living the fast life, instead of the good life. And I think for many people, that wake-up call takes the form of an illness. You know, a burnout, or eventually the body says, "I can't take it anymore," and throws in the towel. Or maybe a relationship goes up in smoke because we haven't had the time, or the patience, or the tranquility, to be with the other person, to listen to them.
And my wake-up call came when I started reading bedtime stories to my son, and I found that at the end of day, I would go into his room and I just couldn't slow down -- you know, I'd be speed reading "The Cat In The Hat." I'd be -- you know, I'd be skipping lines here, paragraphs there, sometimes a whole page, and of course, my little boy knew the book inside out, so we would quarrel. And what should have been the most relaxing, the most intimate, the most tender moment of the day, when a dad sits down to read to his son, became instead this kind of gladiatorial battle of wills, a clash between my speed and his slowness. And this went on for some time, until I caught myself scanning a newspaper article with timesaving tips for fast people. And one of them made reference to a series of books called "The One-Minute Bedtime Story." And I wince saying those words now, but my first reaction at the time was very different. My first reflex was to say, "Hallelujah -- what a great idea! This is exactly what I'm looking for to speed up bedtime even more." But thankfully, a light bulb went on over my head, and my next reaction was very different, and I took a step back, and I thought, "Whoa -- you know, has it really come to this? Am I really in such a hurry that I'm prepared to fob off my son with a sound byte at the end of the day?" And I put away the newspaper -- and I was getting on a plane -- and I sat there, and I did something I hadn't done for a long time -- which is I did nothing. I just thought, and I thought long and hard. And by the time I got off that plane, I'd decided I wanted to do something about it. I wanted to investigate this whole roadrunner culture, and what it was doing to me and to everyone else.
And I had two questions in my head. The first was, how did we get so fast? And the second is, is it possible, or even desirable, to slow down? Now, if you think about how our world got so accelerated, the usual suspects rear their heads. You think of, you know, urbanization, consumerism, the workplace, technology. But I think if you cut through those forces, you get to what might be the deeper driver, the nub of the question, which is how we think about time itself. In other cultures, time is cyclical. It's seen as moving in great, unhurried circles. It's always renewing and refreshing itself. Whereas in the West, time is linear. It's a finite resource; it's always draining away. You either use it, or lose it. "Time is money," as Benjamin Franklin said. And I think what that does to us psychologically is it creates an equation. Time is scarce, so what do we do? Well -- well, we speed up, don't we? We try and do more and more with less and less time. We turn every moment of every day into a race to the finish line -- a finish line, incidentally, that we never reach, but a finish line nonetheless. And I guess that the question is, is it possible to break free from that mindset? And thankfully, the answer is yes, because what I discovered, when I began looking around, that there is a global backlash against this culture that tells us that faster is always better, and that busier is best.
Right across the world, people are doing the unthinkable: they're slowing down, and finding that, although conventional wisdom tells you that if you slow down, you're road kill, the opposite turns out to be true: that by slowing down at the right moments, people find that they do everything better. They eat better; they make love better; they exercise better; they work better; they live better. And, in this kind of cauldron of moments and places and acts of deceleration, lie what a lot of people now refer to as the "International Slow Movement."
Now if you'll permit me a small act of hypocrisy, I'll just give you a very quick overview of what's going on inside the Slow Movement. If you think of food, many of you will have heard of the Slow Food movement. Started in Italy, but has spread across the world, and now has 100,000 members in 50 countries. And it's driven by a very simple and sensible message, which is that we get more pleasure and more health from our food when we cultivate, cook and consume it at a reasonable pace. I think also the explosion of the organic farming movement, and the renaissance of farmers' markets, are other illustrations of the fact that people are desperate to get away from eating and cooking and cultivating their food on an industrial timetable. They want to get back to slower rhythms. And out of the Slow Food movement has grown something called the Slow Cities movement, which has started in Italy, but has spread right across Europe and beyond. And in this, towns begin to rethink how they organize the urban landscape, so that people are encouraged to slow down and smell the roses and connect with one another. So they might curb traffic, or put in a park bench, or some green space.
And in some ways, these changes add up to more than the sum of their parts, because I think when a Slow City becomes officially a Slow City, it's kind of like a philosophical declaration. It's saying to the rest of world, and to the people in that town, that we believe that in the 21st century, slowness has a role to play. In medicine, I think a lot of people are deeply disillusioned with the kind of quick-fix mentality you find in conventional medicine. And millions of them around the world are turning to complementary and alternative forms of medicine, which tend to tap into sort of slower, gentler, more holistic forms of healing. Now, obviously the jury is out on many of these complementary therapies, and I personally doubt that the coffee enema will ever, you know, gain mainstream approval. But other treatments such as acupuncture and massage, and even just relaxation, clearly have some kind of benefit. And blue-chip medical colleges everywhere are starting to study these things to find out how they work, and what we might learn from them.
Sex. There's an awful lot of fast sex around, isn't there? I was coming to -- well -- no pun intended there. I was making my way, let's say, slowly to Oxford, and I went through a news agent, and I saw a magazine, a men's magazine, and it said on the front, "How to bring your partner to orgasm in 30 seconds." So, you know, even sex is on a stopwatch these days. Now, you know, I like a quickie as much as the next person, but I think that there's an awful lot to be gained from slow sex -- from slowing down in the bedroom. You know, you tap into that -- those deeper, sort of, psychological, emotional, spiritual currents, and you get a better orgasm with the buildup. You can get more bang for your buck, let's say. I mean, the Pointer Sisters said it most eloquently, didn't they, when they sang the praises of "a lover with a slow hand." Now, we all laughed at Sting a few years ago when he went Tantric, but you fast-forward a few years, and now you find couples of all ages flocking to workshops, or maybe just on their own in their own bedrooms, finding ways to put on the brakes and have better sex. And of course, in Italy where -- I mean, Italians always seem to know where to find their pleasure -- they've launched an official Slow Sex movement.
The workplace. Right across much of the world -- North America being a notable exception -- working hours have been coming down. And Europe is an example of that, and people finding that their quality of life improves as they're working less, and also that their hourly productivity goes up. Now, clearly there are problems with the 35-hour workweek in France -- too much, too soon, too rigid. But other countries in Europe, notably the Nordic countries, are showing that it's possible to have a kick-ass economy without being a workaholic. And Norway, Sweden, Denmark and Finland now rank among the top six most competitive nations on Earth, and they work the kind of hours that would make the average American weep with envy. And if you go beyond sort of the country level, down at the micro-company level, more and more companies now are realizing that they need to allow their staff either to work fewer hours or just to unplug -- to take a lunch break, or to go sit in a quiet room, to switch off their Blackberrys and laptops -- you at the back -- mobile phones, during the work day or on the weekend, so that they have time to recharge and for the brain to slide into that kind of creative mode of thought.
It's not just, though, these days, adults who overwork, though, is it? It's children, too. I'm 37, and my childhood ended in the mid-'80s, and I look at kids now, and I'm just amazed by the way they race around with more homework, more tutoring, more extracurriculars than we would ever have conceived of a generation ago. And some of the most heartrending emails that I get on my website are actually from adolescents hovering on the edge of burnout, pleading with me to write to their parents, to help them slow down, to help them get off this full-throttle treadmill. But thankfully, there is a backlash there in parenting as well, and you're finding that, you know, towns in the United States are now banding together and banning extracurriculars on a particular day of the month, so that people can, you know, decompress and have some family time, and slow down.
Homework is another thing. There are homework bans springing up all over the developed world in schools which had been piling on the homework for years, and now they're discovering that less can be more. So there was a case up in Scotland recently where a fee-paying, high-achieving private school banned homework for everyone under the age of 13, and the high-achieving parents freaked out and said, "What are you -- you know, our kids will fall" -- the headmaster said, "No, no, your children need to slow down at the end of the day." And just this last month, the exam results came in, and in math, science, marks went up 20 percent on average last year. And I think what's very revealing is that the elite universities, who are often cited as the reason that people drive their kids and hothouse them so much, are starting to notice the caliber of students coming to them is falling. These kids have wonderful marks; they have CVs jammed with extracurriculars, to the point that would make your eyes water. But they lack spark; they lack the ability to think creatively and think outside -- they don't know how to dream. And so what these Ivy League schools, and Oxford and Cambridge and so on, are starting to send a message to parents and students that they need to put on the brakes a little bit. And in Harvard, for instance, they send out a letter to undergraduates -- freshmen -- telling them that they'll get more out of life, and more out of Harvard, if they put on the brakes, if they do less, but give time to things, the time that things need, to enjoy them, to savor them. And even if they sometimes do nothing at all. And that letter is called -- very revealing, I think -- "Slow Down!" -- with an exclamation mark on the end.
So wherever you look, the message, it seems to me, is the same: that less is very often more, that slower is very often better. But that said, of course, it's not that easy to slow down, is it? I mean, you heard that I got a speeding ticket while I was researching my book on the benefits of slowness, and that's true, but that's not all of it. I was actually en route to a dinner held by Slow Food at the time. And if that's not shaming enough, I got that ticket in Italy. And if any of you have ever driven on an Italian highway, you'll have a pretty good idea of how fast I was going.
(Laughter)
But why is it so hard to slow down? I think there are various reasons. One is that speed is fun, you know, speed is sexy. It's all that adrenaline rush. It's hard to give it up. I think there's a kind of metaphysical dimension -- that speed becomes a way of walling ourselves off from the bigger, deeper questions. We fill our head with distraction, with busyness, so that we don't have to ask, am I well? Am I happy? Are my children growing up right? Are politicians making good decisions on my behalf? Another reason -- although I think, perhaps, the most powerful reason -- why we find it hard to slow down is the cultural taboo that we've erected against slowing down. "Slow" is a dirty word in our culture. It's a byword for "lazy," "slacker," for being somebody who gives up. You know, "he's a bit slow." It's actually synonymous with being stupid.
I guess what the Slow Movement -- the purpose of the Slow Movement, or its main goal, really, is to tackle that taboo, and to say that yes, sometimes slow is not the answer, that there is such a thing as "bad slow." You know, I got stuck on the M25, which is a ring road around London, recently, and spent three-and-a-half hours there. And I can tell you, that's really bad slow. But the new idea, the sort of revolutionary idea, of the Slow Movement, is that there is such a thing as "good slow," too. And good slow is, you know, taking the time to eat a meal with your family, with the TV switched off. Or taking the time to look at a problem from all angles in the office to make the best decision at work. Or even simply just taking the time to slow down and savor your life.
Now, one of the things that I found most uplifting about all of this stuff that's happened around the book since it came out, is the reaction to it. And I knew that when my book on slowness came out, it would be welcomed by the New Age brigade, but it's also been taken up, with great gusto, by the corporate world -- you know, business press, but also big companies and leadership organizations. Because people at the top of the chain, people like you, I think, are starting to realize that there's too much speed in the system, there's too much busyness, and it's time to find, or get back to that lost art of shifting gears. Another encouraging sign, I think, is that it's not just in the developed world that this idea's been taken up. In the developing world, in countries that are on the verge of making that leap into first world status -- China, Brazil, Thailand, Poland, and so on -- these countries have embraced the idea of the Slow Movement, many people in them, and there's a debate going on in their media, on the streets. Because I think they're looking at the West, and they're saying, "Well, we like that aspect of what you've got, but we're not so sure about that."
So all of that said, is it, I guess, is it possible? That's really the main question before us today. Is it possible to slow down? And I'm happy to be able to say to you that the answer is a resounding yes. And I present myself as Exhibit A, a kind of reformed and rehabilitated speed-aholic. I still love speed. You know, I live in London, and I work as a journalist, and I enjoy the buzz and the busyness, and the adrenaline rush that comes from both of those things. I play squash and ice hockey, two very fast sports, and I wouldn't give them up for the world. But I've also, over the last year or so, got in touch with my inner tortoise.
(Laughter)
And what that means is that I no longer overload myself gratuitously. My default mode is no longer to be a rush-aholic. I no longer hear time's winged chariot drawing near, or at least not as much as I did before. I can actually hear it now, because I see my time is ticking off. And the upshot of all of that is that I actually feel a lot happier, healthier, more productive than I ever have. I feel like I'm living my life rather than actually just racing through it. And perhaps, the most important measure of the success of this is that I feel that my relationships are a lot deeper, richer, stronger.
And for me, I guess, the litmus test for whether this would work, and what it would mean, was always going to be bedtime stories, because that's sort of where the journey began. And there too the news is rosy. You know, at the end of the day, I go into my son's room. I don't wear a watch. I switch off my computer, so I can't hear the email pinging into the basket, and I just slow down to his pace and we read. And because children have their own tempo and internal clock, they don't do quality time, where you schedule 10 minutes for them to open up to you. They need you to move at their rhythm. I find that 10 minutes into a story, you know, my son will suddenly say, "You know, something happened in the playground today that really bothered me." And we'll go off and have a conversation on that. And I now find that bedtime stories used to be a box on my to-do list, something that I dreaded, because it was so slow and I had to get through it quickly. It's become my reward at the end of the day, something I really cherish. And I have a kind of Hollywood ending to my talk this afternoon, which goes a little bit like this:
a few months ago, I was getting ready to go on another book tour, and I had my bags packed. I was downstairs by the front door, and I was waiting for a taxi, and my son came down the stairs and he'd made a card for me. And he was carrying it. He'd gone and stapled two cards, very like these, together, and put a sticker of his favorite character, Tintin, on the front. And he said to me, or he handed this to me, and I read it, and it said, "To Daddy, love Benjamin." And I thought, "Aw, that's really sweet. Is that a good luck on the book tour card?" And he said, "No, no, no, Daddy -- this is a card for being the best story reader in the world." And I thought, "Yeah, you know, this slowing down thing really does work."
Thank you very much.
GINT-TED Talks-The art of stillness by Pico Iyer
The following information is used for educational purposes only.
The art of stillness
Filmed August 2014 at TEDSalon NY2014
The place that travel writer Pico Iyer would most like to go? Nowhere. In a counterintuitive and lyrical meditation, Iyer takes a look at the incredible insight that comes with taking time for stillness. In our world of constant movement and distraction, he teases out strategies we all can use to take back a few minutes out of every day, or a few days out of every season. It's the talk for anyone who feels overwhelmed by the demands for our world.
Transcript:
I'm a lifelong traveler. Even as a little kid, I was actually working out that it would be cheaper to go to boarding school in England than just to the best school down the road from my parents' house in California. So, from the time I was nine years old I was flying alone several times a year over the North Pole, just to go to school. And of course the more I flew the more I came to love to fly, so the very week after I graduated from high school, I got a job mopping tables so that I could spend every season of my 18th year on a different continent. And then, almost inevitably, I became a travel writer so my job and my joy could become one. And I really began to feel that if you were lucky enough to walk around the candlelit temples of Tibet or to wander along the seafronts in Havana with music passing all around you, you could bring those sounds and the high cobalt skies and the flash of the blue ocean back to your friends at home, and really bring some magic and clarity to your own life. Except, as you all know, one of the first things you learn when you travel is that nowhere is magical unless you can bring the right eyes to it. You take an angry man to the Himalayas, he just starts complaining about the food. And I found that the best way that I could develop more attentive and more appreciative eyes was, oddly, by going nowhere, just by sitting still. And of course sitting still is how many of us get what we most crave and need in our accelerated lives, a break. But it was also the only way that I could find to sift through the slideshow of my experience and make sense of the future and the past. And so, to my great surprise, I found that going nowhere was at least as exciting as going to Tibet or to Cuba. And by going nowhere, I mean nothing more intimidating than taking a few minutes out of every day or a few days out of every season, or even, as some people do, a few years out of a life in order to sit still long enough to find out what moves you most, to recall where your truest happiness lies and to remember that sometimes making a living and making a life point in opposite directions.
And of course, this is what wise beings through the centuries from every tradition have been telling us. It's an old idea. More than 2,000 years ago, the Stoics were reminding us it's not our experience that makes our lives, it's what we do with it. Imagine a hurricane suddenly sweeps through your town and reduces every last thing to rubble. One man is traumatized for life. But another, maybe even his brother, almost feels liberated, and decides this is a great chance to start his life anew. It's exactly the same event, but radically different responses. There is nothing either good or bad, as Shakespeare told us in "Hamlet," but thinking makes it so. And this has certainly been my experience as a traveler. Twenty-four years ago I took the most mind-bending trip across North Korea. But the trip lasted a few days. What I've done with it sitting still, going back to it in my head, trying to understand it, finding a place for it in my thinking, that's lasted 24 years already and will probably last a lifetime. The trip, in other words, gave me some amazing sights, but it's only sitting still that allows me to turn those into lasting insights. And I sometimes think that so much of our life takes place inside our heads, in memory or imagination or interpretation or speculation, that if I really want to change my life I might best begin by changing my mind. Again, none of this is new; that's why Shakespeare and the Stoics were telling us this centuries ago, but Shakespeare never had to face 200 emails in a day. (Laughter) The Stoics, as far as I know, were not on Facebook. We all know that in our on-demand lives, one of the things that's most on demand is ourselves. Wherever we are, any time of night or day, our bosses, junk-mailers, our parents can get to us. Sociologists have actually found that in recent years Americans are working fewer hours than 50 years ago, but we feel as if we're working more. We have more and more time-saving devices, but sometimes, it seems, less and less time. We can more and more easily make contact with people on the furthest corners of the planet, but sometimes in that process we lose contact with ourselves. And one of my biggest surprises as a traveler has been to find that often it's exactly the people who have most enabled us to get anywhere who are intent on going nowhere. In other words, precisely those beings who have created the technologies that override so many of the limits of old, are the ones wisest about the need for limits, even when it comes to technology. I once went to the Google headquarters and I saw all the things many of you have heard about; the indoor tree houses, the trampolines, workers at that time enjoying 20 percent of their paid time free so that they could just let their imaginations go wandering. But what impressed me even more was that as I was waiting for my digital I.D., one Googler was telling me about the program that he was about to start to teach the many, many Googlers who practice yoga to become trainers in it, and the other Googler was telling me about the book that he was about to write on the inner search engine, and the ways in which science has empirically shown that sitting still, or meditation, can lead not just to better health or to clearer thinking, but even to emotional intelligence. I have another friend in Silicon Valley who is really one of the most eloquent spokesmen for the latest technologies, and in fact was one of the founders of Wired magazine, Kevin Kelly. And Kevin wrote his last book on fresh technologies without a smartphone or a laptop or a TV in his home. And like many in Silicon Valley, he tries really hard to observe what they call an Internet sabbath, whereby for 24 or 48 hours every week they go completely offline in order to gather the sense of direction and proportion they'll need when they go online again. The one thing perhaps that technology hasn't always given us is a sense of how to make the wisest use of technology. And when you speak of the sabbath, look at the Ten Commandments -- there's only one word there for which the adjective "holy" is used, and that's the Sabbath. I pick up the Jewish holy book of the Torah -- its longest chapter, it's on the Sabbath. And we all know that it's really one of our greatest luxuries, the empty space. In many a piece of music, it's the pause or the rest that gives the piece its beauty and its shape. And I know I as a writer will often try to include a lot of empty space on the page so that the reader can complete my thoughts and sentences and so that her imagination has room to breathe.
Now, in the physical domain, of course, many people, if they have the resources, will try to get a place in the country, a second home. I've never begun to have those resources, but I sometimes remember that any time I want, I can get a second home in time, if not in space, just by taking a day off. And it's never easy because, of course, whenever I do I spend much of it worried about all the extra stuff that's going to crash down on me the following day. I sometimes think I'd rather give up meat or sex or wine than the chance to check on my emails. (Laughter) And every season I do try to take three days off on retreat but a part of me still feels guilty to be leaving my poor wife behind and to be ignoring all those seemingly urgent emails from my bosses and maybe to be missing a friend's birthday party. But as soon as I get to a place of real quiet, I realize that it's only by going there that I'll have anything fresh or creative or joyful to share with my wife or bosses or friends. Otherwise, really, I'm just foisting on them my exhaustion or my distractedness, which is no blessing at all.
And so when I was 29, I decided to remake my entire life in the light of going nowhere. One evening I was coming back from the office, it was after midnight, I was in a taxi driving through Times Square, and I suddenly realized that I was racing around so much I could never catch up with my life. And my life then, as it happened, was pretty much the one I might have dreamed of as a little boy. I had really interesting friends and colleagues, I had a nice apartment on Park Avenue and 20th Street. I had, to me, a fascinating job writing about world affairs, but I could never separate myself enough from them to hear myself think -- or really, to understand if I was truly happy. And so, I abandoned my dream life for a single room on the backstreets of Kyoto, Japan, which was the place that had long exerted a strong, really mysterious gravitational pull on me. Even as a child I would just look at a painting of Kyoto and feel I recognized it; I knew it before I ever laid eyes on it. But it's also, as you all know, a beautiful city encircled by hills, filled with more than 2,000 temples and shrines, where people have been sitting still for 800 years or more. And quite soon after I moved there, I ended up where I still am with my wife, formerly our kids, in a two-room apartment in the middle of nowhere where we have no bicycle, no car, no TV I can understand, and I still have to support my loved ones as a travel writer and a journalist, so clearly this is not ideal for job advancement or for cultural excitement or for social diversion. But I realized that it gives me what I prize most, which is days and hours. I have never once had to use a cell phone there. I almost never have to look at the time, and every morning when I wake up, really the day stretches in front of me like an open meadow. And when life throws up one of its nasty surprises, as it will, more than once, when a doctor comes into my room wearing a grave expression, or a car suddenly veers in front of mine on the freeway, I know, in my bones, that it's the time I've spent going nowhere that is going to sustain me much more than all the time I've spent racing around to Bhutan or Easter Island.
I'll always be a traveler -- my livelihood depends on it -- but one of the beauties of travel is that it allows you to bring stillness into the motion and the commotion of the world. I once got on a plane in Frankfurt, Germany, and a young German woman came down and sat next to me and engaged me in a very friendly conversation for about 30 minutes, and then she just turned around and sat still for 12 hours. She didn't once turn on her video monitor, she never pulled out a book, she didn't even go to sleep, she just sat still, and something of her clarity and calm really imparted itself to me. I've noticed more and more people taking conscious measures these days to try to open up a space inside their lives. Some people go to black-hole resorts where they'll spend hundreds of dollars a night in order to hand over their cell phone and their laptop to the front desk on arrival. Some people I know, just before they go to sleep, instead of scrolling through their messages or checking out YouTube, just turn out the lights and listen to some music, and notice that they sleep much better and wake up much refreshed. I was once fortunate enough to drive into the high, dark mountains behind Los Angeles, where the great poet and singer and international heartthrob Leonard Cohen was living and working for many years as a full-time monk in the Mount Baldy Zen Center. And I wasn't entirely surprised when the record that he released at the age of 77, to which he gave the deliberately unsexy title of "Old Ideas," went to number one in the charts in 17 nations in the world, hit the top five in nine others. Something in us, I think, is crying out for the sense of intimacy and depth that we get from people like that. who take the time and trouble to sit still. And I think many of us have the sensation, I certainly do, that we're standing about two inches away from a huge screen, and it's noisy and it's crowded and it's changing with every second, and that screen is our lives. And it's only by stepping back, and then further back, and holding still, that we can begin to see what the canvas means and to catch the larger picture. And a few people do that for us by going nowhere.
So, in an age of acceleration, nothing can be more exhilarating than going slow. And in an age of distraction, nothing is so luxurious as paying attention. And in an age of constant movement, nothing is so urgent as sitting still. So you can go on your next vacation to Paris or Hawaii, or New Orleans; I bet you'll have a wonderful time. But, if you want to come back home alive and full of fresh hope, in love with the world, I think you might want to try considering going nowhere. Thank you. (Applause)
The art of stillness
Filmed August 2014 at TEDSalon NY2014
The place that travel writer Pico Iyer would most like to go? Nowhere. In a counterintuitive and lyrical meditation, Iyer takes a look at the incredible insight that comes with taking time for stillness. In our world of constant movement and distraction, he teases out strategies we all can use to take back a few minutes out of every day, or a few days out of every season. It's the talk for anyone who feels overwhelmed by the demands for our world.
Transcript:
I'm a lifelong traveler. Even as a little kid, I was actually working out that it would be cheaper to go to boarding school in England than just to the best school down the road from my parents' house in California. So, from the time I was nine years old I was flying alone several times a year over the North Pole, just to go to school. And of course the more I flew the more I came to love to fly, so the very week after I graduated from high school, I got a job mopping tables so that I could spend every season of my 18th year on a different continent. And then, almost inevitably, I became a travel writer so my job and my joy could become one. And I really began to feel that if you were lucky enough to walk around the candlelit temples of Tibet or to wander along the seafronts in Havana with music passing all around you, you could bring those sounds and the high cobalt skies and the flash of the blue ocean back to your friends at home, and really bring some magic and clarity to your own life. Except, as you all know, one of the first things you learn when you travel is that nowhere is magical unless you can bring the right eyes to it. You take an angry man to the Himalayas, he just starts complaining about the food. And I found that the best way that I could develop more attentive and more appreciative eyes was, oddly, by going nowhere, just by sitting still. And of course sitting still is how many of us get what we most crave and need in our accelerated lives, a break. But it was also the only way that I could find to sift through the slideshow of my experience and make sense of the future and the past. And so, to my great surprise, I found that going nowhere was at least as exciting as going to Tibet or to Cuba. And by going nowhere, I mean nothing more intimidating than taking a few minutes out of every day or a few days out of every season, or even, as some people do, a few years out of a life in order to sit still long enough to find out what moves you most, to recall where your truest happiness lies and to remember that sometimes making a living and making a life point in opposite directions.
And of course, this is what wise beings through the centuries from every tradition have been telling us. It's an old idea. More than 2,000 years ago, the Stoics were reminding us it's not our experience that makes our lives, it's what we do with it. Imagine a hurricane suddenly sweeps through your town and reduces every last thing to rubble. One man is traumatized for life. But another, maybe even his brother, almost feels liberated, and decides this is a great chance to start his life anew. It's exactly the same event, but radically different responses. There is nothing either good or bad, as Shakespeare told us in "Hamlet," but thinking makes it so. And this has certainly been my experience as a traveler. Twenty-four years ago I took the most mind-bending trip across North Korea. But the trip lasted a few days. What I've done with it sitting still, going back to it in my head, trying to understand it, finding a place for it in my thinking, that's lasted 24 years already and will probably last a lifetime. The trip, in other words, gave me some amazing sights, but it's only sitting still that allows me to turn those into lasting insights. And I sometimes think that so much of our life takes place inside our heads, in memory or imagination or interpretation or speculation, that if I really want to change my life I might best begin by changing my mind. Again, none of this is new; that's why Shakespeare and the Stoics were telling us this centuries ago, but Shakespeare never had to face 200 emails in a day. (Laughter) The Stoics, as far as I know, were not on Facebook. We all know that in our on-demand lives, one of the things that's most on demand is ourselves. Wherever we are, any time of night or day, our bosses, junk-mailers, our parents can get to us. Sociologists have actually found that in recent years Americans are working fewer hours than 50 years ago, but we feel as if we're working more. We have more and more time-saving devices, but sometimes, it seems, less and less time. We can more and more easily make contact with people on the furthest corners of the planet, but sometimes in that process we lose contact with ourselves. And one of my biggest surprises as a traveler has been to find that often it's exactly the people who have most enabled us to get anywhere who are intent on going nowhere. In other words, precisely those beings who have created the technologies that override so many of the limits of old, are the ones wisest about the need for limits, even when it comes to technology. I once went to the Google headquarters and I saw all the things many of you have heard about; the indoor tree houses, the trampolines, workers at that time enjoying 20 percent of their paid time free so that they could just let their imaginations go wandering. But what impressed me even more was that as I was waiting for my digital I.D., one Googler was telling me about the program that he was about to start to teach the many, many Googlers who practice yoga to become trainers in it, and the other Googler was telling me about the book that he was about to write on the inner search engine, and the ways in which science has empirically shown that sitting still, or meditation, can lead not just to better health or to clearer thinking, but even to emotional intelligence. I have another friend in Silicon Valley who is really one of the most eloquent spokesmen for the latest technologies, and in fact was one of the founders of Wired magazine, Kevin Kelly. And Kevin wrote his last book on fresh technologies without a smartphone or a laptop or a TV in his home. And like many in Silicon Valley, he tries really hard to observe what they call an Internet sabbath, whereby for 24 or 48 hours every week they go completely offline in order to gather the sense of direction and proportion they'll need when they go online again. The one thing perhaps that technology hasn't always given us is a sense of how to make the wisest use of technology. And when you speak of the sabbath, look at the Ten Commandments -- there's only one word there for which the adjective "holy" is used, and that's the Sabbath. I pick up the Jewish holy book of the Torah -- its longest chapter, it's on the Sabbath. And we all know that it's really one of our greatest luxuries, the empty space. In many a piece of music, it's the pause or the rest that gives the piece its beauty and its shape. And I know I as a writer will often try to include a lot of empty space on the page so that the reader can complete my thoughts and sentences and so that her imagination has room to breathe.
Now, in the physical domain, of course, many people, if they have the resources, will try to get a place in the country, a second home. I've never begun to have those resources, but I sometimes remember that any time I want, I can get a second home in time, if not in space, just by taking a day off. And it's never easy because, of course, whenever I do I spend much of it worried about all the extra stuff that's going to crash down on me the following day. I sometimes think I'd rather give up meat or sex or wine than the chance to check on my emails. (Laughter) And every season I do try to take three days off on retreat but a part of me still feels guilty to be leaving my poor wife behind and to be ignoring all those seemingly urgent emails from my bosses and maybe to be missing a friend's birthday party. But as soon as I get to a place of real quiet, I realize that it's only by going there that I'll have anything fresh or creative or joyful to share with my wife or bosses or friends. Otherwise, really, I'm just foisting on them my exhaustion or my distractedness, which is no blessing at all.
And so when I was 29, I decided to remake my entire life in the light of going nowhere. One evening I was coming back from the office, it was after midnight, I was in a taxi driving through Times Square, and I suddenly realized that I was racing around so much I could never catch up with my life. And my life then, as it happened, was pretty much the one I might have dreamed of as a little boy. I had really interesting friends and colleagues, I had a nice apartment on Park Avenue and 20th Street. I had, to me, a fascinating job writing about world affairs, but I could never separate myself enough from them to hear myself think -- or really, to understand if I was truly happy. And so, I abandoned my dream life for a single room on the backstreets of Kyoto, Japan, which was the place that had long exerted a strong, really mysterious gravitational pull on me. Even as a child I would just look at a painting of Kyoto and feel I recognized it; I knew it before I ever laid eyes on it. But it's also, as you all know, a beautiful city encircled by hills, filled with more than 2,000 temples and shrines, where people have been sitting still for 800 years or more. And quite soon after I moved there, I ended up where I still am with my wife, formerly our kids, in a two-room apartment in the middle of nowhere where we have no bicycle, no car, no TV I can understand, and I still have to support my loved ones as a travel writer and a journalist, so clearly this is not ideal for job advancement or for cultural excitement or for social diversion. But I realized that it gives me what I prize most, which is days and hours. I have never once had to use a cell phone there. I almost never have to look at the time, and every morning when I wake up, really the day stretches in front of me like an open meadow. And when life throws up one of its nasty surprises, as it will, more than once, when a doctor comes into my room wearing a grave expression, or a car suddenly veers in front of mine on the freeway, I know, in my bones, that it's the time I've spent going nowhere that is going to sustain me much more than all the time I've spent racing around to Bhutan or Easter Island.
I'll always be a traveler -- my livelihood depends on it -- but one of the beauties of travel is that it allows you to bring stillness into the motion and the commotion of the world. I once got on a plane in Frankfurt, Germany, and a young German woman came down and sat next to me and engaged me in a very friendly conversation for about 30 minutes, and then she just turned around and sat still for 12 hours. She didn't once turn on her video monitor, she never pulled out a book, she didn't even go to sleep, she just sat still, and something of her clarity and calm really imparted itself to me. I've noticed more and more people taking conscious measures these days to try to open up a space inside their lives. Some people go to black-hole resorts where they'll spend hundreds of dollars a night in order to hand over their cell phone and their laptop to the front desk on arrival. Some people I know, just before they go to sleep, instead of scrolling through their messages or checking out YouTube, just turn out the lights and listen to some music, and notice that they sleep much better and wake up much refreshed. I was once fortunate enough to drive into the high, dark mountains behind Los Angeles, where the great poet and singer and international heartthrob Leonard Cohen was living and working for many years as a full-time monk in the Mount Baldy Zen Center. And I wasn't entirely surprised when the record that he released at the age of 77, to which he gave the deliberately unsexy title of "Old Ideas," went to number one in the charts in 17 nations in the world, hit the top five in nine others. Something in us, I think, is crying out for the sense of intimacy and depth that we get from people like that. who take the time and trouble to sit still. And I think many of us have the sensation, I certainly do, that we're standing about two inches away from a huge screen, and it's noisy and it's crowded and it's changing with every second, and that screen is our lives. And it's only by stepping back, and then further back, and holding still, that we can begin to see what the canvas means and to catch the larger picture. And a few people do that for us by going nowhere.
So, in an age of acceleration, nothing can be more exhilarating than going slow. And in an age of distraction, nothing is so luxurious as paying attention. And in an age of constant movement, nothing is so urgent as sitting still. So you can go on your next vacation to Paris or Hawaii, or New Orleans; I bet you'll have a wonderful time. But, if you want to come back home alive and full of fresh hope, in love with the world, I think you might want to try considering going nowhere. Thank you. (Applause)
Friday, August 25, 2017
SOC/GINT-No al Mundial 2030
The following information is used for educational purposes only.
No al Mundial 2030
Sergio Berensztein
PARA LA NACION
25 DE AGOSTO DE 2017
Amo el fútbol. Lamentablemente nunca tuve el talento necesario para destacarme ni ser respetado en una cancha. Pero aprendí a leer con las páginas deportivas (y la de chistes) de este diario centenario, que era el que comprábamos en casa. Con El Gráfico me convencí que el martes era el día del deporte (yo le esperaba en el kiosco de Jonte y Cuenca los lunes por la noche) y lo leía en dosis acotadas para que me durara más. Una rara mezcla de pulsión descontrolada y curiosidad infinita por enterarme de la última lesión o el potencial pase del año me hacía comprar las ediciones vespertinas de Crónica y La Razón. Y luego la Goles, Sólo Fútbol, hasta que por fin llegó el Olé. Lo confieso: es el primer diario que leo cada mañana (junto con el Financial Times).
Amo ir a la cancha. Desde que soy (al menos cronológicamente) adulto, trato de vivir siempre cerca del Monumental, al que voy todo lo que puedo y frente al que paso tan frecuentemente como sea posible (aunque no sea el camino más rápido o directo). Soy fana de River, veo seguido a la Selección, pero me encanta volver ahí porque me recuerda la inolvidable final del '78 contra Holanda, que vi junto con mis viejos justo detrás del arco de los goles soñados de Kempes y Bertoni. Ese día fui feliz y, por primera vez comprendí que podíamos ser competitivos a nivel global si trabajábamos en equipo y potenciábamos nuestra destreza natural (bueno, no la mía precisamente) con entrega y sacrificio. Me encantan los mundiales, tuve la fortuna de ir a un par más. Fascinantes mientras duran. El problema es llenar el vacío de los días (las semanas, meses, ¿años?) siguientes a la inefable eliminación.
Una cosa es amar al deporte más hermoso. Jugarlo lo mejor posible. Competir en torneos internacionales. Ganar cada tanto no vendría nada mal. Pero, ¿estamos en condiciones de organizar un mundial, incluso junto a un socio estable y sensato como el Uruguay? Tendremos ya resueltas en una década las prioridades estratégicas para desarrollarnos como Nación como para invertir tiempo y enorme cantidad de dinero en un evento de tamañas dimensiones? Pongamos foco en los temas de fondo, en consolidar las instituciones y fortalecer los mecanismos de movilidad social ascendente antes de darnos el lujo de albergar a selecciones y turistas de todo el planeta.
Hace muchos años, el secretario de Hacienda de un gobierno militar tuvo la inoportuna idea de criticar públicamente los excesos que sus jefes estaban haciendo con el gasto público. A los pocos días, le volaron literalmente el departamento donde vivía. Por suerte no hubo víctimas fatales. Pero el mensaje fue contundente: se trataba justamente de poner énfasis en la fortuna que sin control alguno estaba mal gastando el Ente Autárquico Mundial '78. No temo que pase eso ahora, aunque corro el riesgo de que mucha gente se enoje conmigo porque crea que los mundiales sirven para acelerar la construcción de infraestructura, modernizar aeropuertos, atraer turismo, fomentar nuevos negocios. Creo que todo eso puede y debe lograrse sin invertir dinero que no tenemos ni tendremos. Pongamos nuestra imaginación y creatividad en cosas que realmente hagan la diferencia.
Es que organizar un mundial cuesta en efecto muchísima plata. Lo mismo ocurre con otros eventos de trascendencia internacional como las olimpiadas. Tal vez los países desarrollados puedan darse el lujo de asignar recursos escasos a tales efectos. Pero, ¿es ese el caso de los países más pobres? Chile hizo un mundial a comienzos de los '60 y se estrelló una década más tarde luego de un largo periodo de inestabilidad y alta inflación; México organizó dos mundiales (1970 y 1986) y tuvo sendos episodios dramáticos doce y ocho años después, respectivamente; nosotros caímos en default en el 82 y tuvimos dos estallidos híper inflacionarios al final de esa década; Grecia, Brasil, Sudáfrica ... no parece haber excepciones a esta regla horrible pero real: para organizar un evento deportivo internacional es un requisito fundamental ser un país desarrollado. Si se pretende evitar descalabros de gasto público, escándalos de corrupción y grandes episodios de desidia, falso nacionalismo y ese hueco sentido del deber cumplido que emerge con los fuegos artificiales de un partido inaugural. Los mundiales no tienen la culpa; son en todo caso eventos que condensan, sintetizan muchos otros problemas previos que en general se profundizan de manera considerable.
Propongo lo siguiente: posterguemos la organización del mundial para cuando salgamos definitivamente de la decadencia, cuando venzamos para siempre la pobreza y la marginalidad, cuando tengamos mejor educación que Suiza y Finlandia, cuando estemos entre los 10 países con mejor índice de desarrollo humano. Hasta entonces, todos los recursos que dilapidaríamos en la organización del mundial de 2030 los usamos para aumentar el presupuesto en Ciencia y Tecnología. Esperamos tanto tiempo, esperemos un par de décadas más. ¿Queremos hacer algo realmente importante con nuestros hermanos uruguayos? Construyamos un puerto de aguas profundas con la colaboración de Brasil y Paraguay. O la Escuela de Gobierno y Política Pública del Mercosur. O clonemos a Enzo Francescoli. Lo que les guste más.
No tiremos la plata, no nos sobra nada.
Fuente:www.lanacion.com.ar
No al Mundial 2030
Sergio Berensztein
PARA LA NACION
25 DE AGOSTO DE 2017
Amo el fútbol. Lamentablemente nunca tuve el talento necesario para destacarme ni ser respetado en una cancha. Pero aprendí a leer con las páginas deportivas (y la de chistes) de este diario centenario, que era el que comprábamos en casa. Con El Gráfico me convencí que el martes era el día del deporte (yo le esperaba en el kiosco de Jonte y Cuenca los lunes por la noche) y lo leía en dosis acotadas para que me durara más. Una rara mezcla de pulsión descontrolada y curiosidad infinita por enterarme de la última lesión o el potencial pase del año me hacía comprar las ediciones vespertinas de Crónica y La Razón. Y luego la Goles, Sólo Fútbol, hasta que por fin llegó el Olé. Lo confieso: es el primer diario que leo cada mañana (junto con el Financial Times).
Amo ir a la cancha. Desde que soy (al menos cronológicamente) adulto, trato de vivir siempre cerca del Monumental, al que voy todo lo que puedo y frente al que paso tan frecuentemente como sea posible (aunque no sea el camino más rápido o directo). Soy fana de River, veo seguido a la Selección, pero me encanta volver ahí porque me recuerda la inolvidable final del '78 contra Holanda, que vi junto con mis viejos justo detrás del arco de los goles soñados de Kempes y Bertoni. Ese día fui feliz y, por primera vez comprendí que podíamos ser competitivos a nivel global si trabajábamos en equipo y potenciábamos nuestra destreza natural (bueno, no la mía precisamente) con entrega y sacrificio. Me encantan los mundiales, tuve la fortuna de ir a un par más. Fascinantes mientras duran. El problema es llenar el vacío de los días (las semanas, meses, ¿años?) siguientes a la inefable eliminación.
Una cosa es amar al deporte más hermoso. Jugarlo lo mejor posible. Competir en torneos internacionales. Ganar cada tanto no vendría nada mal. Pero, ¿estamos en condiciones de organizar un mundial, incluso junto a un socio estable y sensato como el Uruguay? Tendremos ya resueltas en una década las prioridades estratégicas para desarrollarnos como Nación como para invertir tiempo y enorme cantidad de dinero en un evento de tamañas dimensiones? Pongamos foco en los temas de fondo, en consolidar las instituciones y fortalecer los mecanismos de movilidad social ascendente antes de darnos el lujo de albergar a selecciones y turistas de todo el planeta.
Hace muchos años, el secretario de Hacienda de un gobierno militar tuvo la inoportuna idea de criticar públicamente los excesos que sus jefes estaban haciendo con el gasto público. A los pocos días, le volaron literalmente el departamento donde vivía. Por suerte no hubo víctimas fatales. Pero el mensaje fue contundente: se trataba justamente de poner énfasis en la fortuna que sin control alguno estaba mal gastando el Ente Autárquico Mundial '78. No temo que pase eso ahora, aunque corro el riesgo de que mucha gente se enoje conmigo porque crea que los mundiales sirven para acelerar la construcción de infraestructura, modernizar aeropuertos, atraer turismo, fomentar nuevos negocios. Creo que todo eso puede y debe lograrse sin invertir dinero que no tenemos ni tendremos. Pongamos nuestra imaginación y creatividad en cosas que realmente hagan la diferencia.
Es que organizar un mundial cuesta en efecto muchísima plata. Lo mismo ocurre con otros eventos de trascendencia internacional como las olimpiadas. Tal vez los países desarrollados puedan darse el lujo de asignar recursos escasos a tales efectos. Pero, ¿es ese el caso de los países más pobres? Chile hizo un mundial a comienzos de los '60 y se estrelló una década más tarde luego de un largo periodo de inestabilidad y alta inflación; México organizó dos mundiales (1970 y 1986) y tuvo sendos episodios dramáticos doce y ocho años después, respectivamente; nosotros caímos en default en el 82 y tuvimos dos estallidos híper inflacionarios al final de esa década; Grecia, Brasil, Sudáfrica ... no parece haber excepciones a esta regla horrible pero real: para organizar un evento deportivo internacional es un requisito fundamental ser un país desarrollado. Si se pretende evitar descalabros de gasto público, escándalos de corrupción y grandes episodios de desidia, falso nacionalismo y ese hueco sentido del deber cumplido que emerge con los fuegos artificiales de un partido inaugural. Los mundiales no tienen la culpa; son en todo caso eventos que condensan, sintetizan muchos otros problemas previos que en general se profundizan de manera considerable.
Propongo lo siguiente: posterguemos la organización del mundial para cuando salgamos definitivamente de la decadencia, cuando venzamos para siempre la pobreza y la marginalidad, cuando tengamos mejor educación que Suiza y Finlandia, cuando estemos entre los 10 países con mejor índice de desarrollo humano. Hasta entonces, todos los recursos que dilapidaríamos en la organización del mundial de 2030 los usamos para aumentar el presupuesto en Ciencia y Tecnología. Esperamos tanto tiempo, esperemos un par de décadas más. ¿Queremos hacer algo realmente importante con nuestros hermanos uruguayos? Construyamos un puerto de aguas profundas con la colaboración de Brasil y Paraguay. O la Escuela de Gobierno y Política Pública del Mercosur. O clonemos a Enzo Francescoli. Lo que les guste más.
No tiremos la plata, no nos sobra nada.
Fuente:www.lanacion.com.ar
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
POL/GINT-El ocaso de dos machos alfa
The following information is used for educational purposes only.
El ocaso de dos machos alfa
Laura Di Marco
PARA LA NACION
@dimarcotwitts
23 DE AGOSTO DE 2017
Parecía la mancha venenosa. Cuando lo veían aparecer en los timbreos, muchos puntanos se negaban a abrirle la puerta o a sacarse fotos con él, aunque unos segundos más tarde, a través de esas mismas ventanas mudas, lo saludaban con el dedo gordo en alza, en señal de silenciosa aprobación. Una contraseña discreta que Claudio Poggi, el candidato de Cambiemos en el reino de los hermanos Alberto y Adolfo Rodríguez Saá, decodificaba como un voto a su favor. Metodología casera, aunque funcional, en una provincia disfuncional donde la gente está acostumbrada a callarse ante los encuestadores por miedo a las represalias de los machos alfa del feudo.
Poggi, un contador con modos de sacerdote, fabricado en las entrañas de ese mismo feudalismo rancio que hoy busca derrotar, se transformó en una bocanada de oxígeno: su triunfo en las PASO es una prueba empírica de que, en la dialéctica del cambio, los brotes verdes también pueden surgir de viejas estructuras y de que, tal vez, no haga falta esperar al lento proceso de renovación del peronismo para volverse más democrático y republicano. El candidato a senador por la oposición se crió en el partido de Perón y hasta fue gobernador cuatro años por la marca de los Rodríguez Saá, casi una anomalía dentro del nepotismo.
San Luis se transformó en un leading case, después de unas primarias que terminaron plebiscitando un régimen autoritario en el que, desde 1983, dos hermanos se alternan en el poder y manejan sus resortes fundamentales: son dueños del principal diario local; controlan ambas cámaras legislativas; dictan los contenidos de los canales estatales y manejan la Justicia. La confusión ha llegado a tal punto que la presidenta del Tribunal Superior de Justicia, Lilia Novillo, fue candidata del Gobierno a la intendencia de San Luis. Nepotismo explícito.
"La tierra de los Rodríguez Saá se transformó en un caso testigo por ser un emblema del fin de ciclo"
Pero la tierra de los Rodríguez Saá no sólo se transformó en un caso testigo por ser un emblema del fin de ciclo (podría decirse lo mismo de muchos barones del conurbano, que fueron barridos en las elecciones de 2015, y hasta del triunfo de la oposición en la capital de Formosa, en las Paso) sino porque la sociedad puntana logró perforar un régimen que, a diferencia del de Santa Cruz o el de Formosa, logró mantener la solvencia fiscal y una economía equilibrada. Los puntanos no votaron por un cambio en la economía sino por un cambio en la cultura política, intoxicados por años de mentiras, soberbia y nepotismo. Fue un sufragio evolucionado, de vara alta, en una provincia con una baja dependencia del empleo estatal -apenas 25 mil empleados públicos sobre un universo de 500 mil habitantes- y donde la mayoría de los puestos de trabajo son de la industria local: la puntana es una economía industrial.
En una palabra, el giro del domingo 13 fue lentamente elaborado por una sociedad que, desde hace varias décadas, cobra su salario en tiempo y forma y que ha alcanzado, en términos generales, una aceptable calidad de vida. ¿Qué está pidiendo, entonces? Intangibles de las democracias modernas. Libertad de expresión, alternancia, respeto ciudadano, justicia independiente, autonomía (el valor estrella de esta época) y un freno definitivo a la política del miedo.
Otra novedad serrana: la dinastía local no fue horadada por un escándalo político, una intervención o crimen, como sucedió con los Saadi en Catamarca, durante los noventa. Nada de eso. Fue el voto popular lo que sepultó a "El Adolfo" en las Paso, que quedó a 19 puntos de distancia, en la categoría a senador, detrás de la dupla Poggi-González Riollo.
El germen de este ocaso ya se dejaba ver en los resultados de 2015, cuando paradójicamente Poggi compitió, desde el peronismo, junto con sus actuales adversarios y protagonizó un fenomenal corte de boleta. En aquella contienda y como candidato a diputado por el Frente Justicialista obtuvo 50 mil votos más que Adolfo Rodríguez Saá, anotado para la competencia presidencial. Idéntica diferencia de votos volvió a sacar el candidato de Avanzar-Cambiemos en 2017, aunque esta vez la usó para pasar de socio a verdugo.
Desde que Poggi armó el frente provincial Avanzar -que, a nivel provincial, compitió en alianza con la marca Cambiemos y se amasó fusionando cinco partidos de la oposición-, los capangas puntanos se dedicaron a perseguir hasta los "me gusta" que cosechaba la fuerza política opositora en las redes sociales. Una práctica que sembró paranoia entre los empleados estatales o entre los que, de algún modo, tenían alguna ligazón con el Estado. En mayo de este año, el candidato de Cambiemos, junto con parte de su equipo, se instaló durante tres días en las oficinas del juez electoral Agustín Ruta, pupilo del poder feudal, porque el magistrado se negaba a firmar el aval del frente oposición. Un reconocimiento que, en los papeles, ya había sido otorgado por la Justicia federal. A través de las redes, la gente azuzaba a los periodistas de los canales estatales para que mostraran, al menos, al candidato opositor. El canal 13, controlado por los Rodríguez Saá, todavía no anuncia derrota del justicialismo provincial en las primarias.
Como todos los señores feudales, a lo largo de décadas en el poder los hermanos Rodríguez Saá hicieron gala de virilidad y extravagancia. Alberto, el actual gobernador, fue asiduo protagonista de las revistas del corazón, que reflejaron sus profusos romances con actrices y celebrities de moda. Incluso, alguna vez aseguró tener diálogo con extraterrestres. "El Adolfo", en cambio, protagonizó un ruidoso escándalo sexual que nunca terminó de esclarecerse. En 1993, pleno menemismo, denunció haber sufrido un secuestro junto a su amante Esther "La Turca" Sesín y relató que fue supuestamente obligado por sus captores a filmar un video degradante. "He sido vejado", declaraba el entonces gobernador ante los medios, secundado por el presidente Carlos Menem. Su potencia política, sin embargo, siguió intacta hasta nuestros días.
Descendiente del cacique ranquel Painé, el macho alfa puntano, que hoy ronda los 70 años, se casó en marzo pasado con su novia treinta años menor, Gisela Vartalitis. El matrimonio, ciego a la nueva sensibilidad de época, se presentó en sociedad desplegando una ostentación irritante, que se terminó pagando en las urnas. Con el casamiento, Adolfo también estrenó una casa en Potrero de los Funes, cuyas dimensiones son mayores a las del emblemático hotel local. Valuada en 75 millones de pesos, la mansión -cuatro hectáreas asentadas sobre unos cerros, que debieron ser sometidos a una costosa unificación del terreno- tiene 2000 metros cubiertos. Un paraíso personal, muy visible desde cualquier punto de esa localidad serrana. El caudillo, sin embargo, siguió comprando regalos de boda. Entre ellos, un piso en el barrio porteño de Recoleta, valuado en 25 millones de pesos. En total, en el búnker de Avanzar-Cambiemos contabilizan un gasto de 100 millones de pesos en los últimos dos años.
"Fue un partido clasificatorio, locales contra visitantes; la final la jugamos en octubre", ensayó, bravucón, el hermano del gobernador, después de las primarias, mientras se conocía un audio, dicen que filtrado a propósito por el poder local, en el que Adolfo Rodríguez Saá llama a "limpiar de traidores" su propio gobierno. Un cocktail de ceguera y prepotencia en la enfermedad del poder, que suele ser antesala del peor de los finales.
Fuente:www.lanacion.com.ar
El ocaso de dos machos alfa
Laura Di Marco
PARA LA NACION
@dimarcotwitts
23 DE AGOSTO DE 2017
Parecía la mancha venenosa. Cuando lo veían aparecer en los timbreos, muchos puntanos se negaban a abrirle la puerta o a sacarse fotos con él, aunque unos segundos más tarde, a través de esas mismas ventanas mudas, lo saludaban con el dedo gordo en alza, en señal de silenciosa aprobación. Una contraseña discreta que Claudio Poggi, el candidato de Cambiemos en el reino de los hermanos Alberto y Adolfo Rodríguez Saá, decodificaba como un voto a su favor. Metodología casera, aunque funcional, en una provincia disfuncional donde la gente está acostumbrada a callarse ante los encuestadores por miedo a las represalias de los machos alfa del feudo.
Poggi, un contador con modos de sacerdote, fabricado en las entrañas de ese mismo feudalismo rancio que hoy busca derrotar, se transformó en una bocanada de oxígeno: su triunfo en las PASO es una prueba empírica de que, en la dialéctica del cambio, los brotes verdes también pueden surgir de viejas estructuras y de que, tal vez, no haga falta esperar al lento proceso de renovación del peronismo para volverse más democrático y republicano. El candidato a senador por la oposición se crió en el partido de Perón y hasta fue gobernador cuatro años por la marca de los Rodríguez Saá, casi una anomalía dentro del nepotismo.
San Luis se transformó en un leading case, después de unas primarias que terminaron plebiscitando un régimen autoritario en el que, desde 1983, dos hermanos se alternan en el poder y manejan sus resortes fundamentales: son dueños del principal diario local; controlan ambas cámaras legislativas; dictan los contenidos de los canales estatales y manejan la Justicia. La confusión ha llegado a tal punto que la presidenta del Tribunal Superior de Justicia, Lilia Novillo, fue candidata del Gobierno a la intendencia de San Luis. Nepotismo explícito.
"La tierra de los Rodríguez Saá se transformó en un caso testigo por ser un emblema del fin de ciclo"
Pero la tierra de los Rodríguez Saá no sólo se transformó en un caso testigo por ser un emblema del fin de ciclo (podría decirse lo mismo de muchos barones del conurbano, que fueron barridos en las elecciones de 2015, y hasta del triunfo de la oposición en la capital de Formosa, en las Paso) sino porque la sociedad puntana logró perforar un régimen que, a diferencia del de Santa Cruz o el de Formosa, logró mantener la solvencia fiscal y una economía equilibrada. Los puntanos no votaron por un cambio en la economía sino por un cambio en la cultura política, intoxicados por años de mentiras, soberbia y nepotismo. Fue un sufragio evolucionado, de vara alta, en una provincia con una baja dependencia del empleo estatal -apenas 25 mil empleados públicos sobre un universo de 500 mil habitantes- y donde la mayoría de los puestos de trabajo son de la industria local: la puntana es una economía industrial.
En una palabra, el giro del domingo 13 fue lentamente elaborado por una sociedad que, desde hace varias décadas, cobra su salario en tiempo y forma y que ha alcanzado, en términos generales, una aceptable calidad de vida. ¿Qué está pidiendo, entonces? Intangibles de las democracias modernas. Libertad de expresión, alternancia, respeto ciudadano, justicia independiente, autonomía (el valor estrella de esta época) y un freno definitivo a la política del miedo.
Otra novedad serrana: la dinastía local no fue horadada por un escándalo político, una intervención o crimen, como sucedió con los Saadi en Catamarca, durante los noventa. Nada de eso. Fue el voto popular lo que sepultó a "El Adolfo" en las Paso, que quedó a 19 puntos de distancia, en la categoría a senador, detrás de la dupla Poggi-González Riollo.
El germen de este ocaso ya se dejaba ver en los resultados de 2015, cuando paradójicamente Poggi compitió, desde el peronismo, junto con sus actuales adversarios y protagonizó un fenomenal corte de boleta. En aquella contienda y como candidato a diputado por el Frente Justicialista obtuvo 50 mil votos más que Adolfo Rodríguez Saá, anotado para la competencia presidencial. Idéntica diferencia de votos volvió a sacar el candidato de Avanzar-Cambiemos en 2017, aunque esta vez la usó para pasar de socio a verdugo.
Desde que Poggi armó el frente provincial Avanzar -que, a nivel provincial, compitió en alianza con la marca Cambiemos y se amasó fusionando cinco partidos de la oposición-, los capangas puntanos se dedicaron a perseguir hasta los "me gusta" que cosechaba la fuerza política opositora en las redes sociales. Una práctica que sembró paranoia entre los empleados estatales o entre los que, de algún modo, tenían alguna ligazón con el Estado. En mayo de este año, el candidato de Cambiemos, junto con parte de su equipo, se instaló durante tres días en las oficinas del juez electoral Agustín Ruta, pupilo del poder feudal, porque el magistrado se negaba a firmar el aval del frente oposición. Un reconocimiento que, en los papeles, ya había sido otorgado por la Justicia federal. A través de las redes, la gente azuzaba a los periodistas de los canales estatales para que mostraran, al menos, al candidato opositor. El canal 13, controlado por los Rodríguez Saá, todavía no anuncia derrota del justicialismo provincial en las primarias.
Como todos los señores feudales, a lo largo de décadas en el poder los hermanos Rodríguez Saá hicieron gala de virilidad y extravagancia. Alberto, el actual gobernador, fue asiduo protagonista de las revistas del corazón, que reflejaron sus profusos romances con actrices y celebrities de moda. Incluso, alguna vez aseguró tener diálogo con extraterrestres. "El Adolfo", en cambio, protagonizó un ruidoso escándalo sexual que nunca terminó de esclarecerse. En 1993, pleno menemismo, denunció haber sufrido un secuestro junto a su amante Esther "La Turca" Sesín y relató que fue supuestamente obligado por sus captores a filmar un video degradante. "He sido vejado", declaraba el entonces gobernador ante los medios, secundado por el presidente Carlos Menem. Su potencia política, sin embargo, siguió intacta hasta nuestros días.
Descendiente del cacique ranquel Painé, el macho alfa puntano, que hoy ronda los 70 años, se casó en marzo pasado con su novia treinta años menor, Gisela Vartalitis. El matrimonio, ciego a la nueva sensibilidad de época, se presentó en sociedad desplegando una ostentación irritante, que se terminó pagando en las urnas. Con el casamiento, Adolfo también estrenó una casa en Potrero de los Funes, cuyas dimensiones son mayores a las del emblemático hotel local. Valuada en 75 millones de pesos, la mansión -cuatro hectáreas asentadas sobre unos cerros, que debieron ser sometidos a una costosa unificación del terreno- tiene 2000 metros cubiertos. Un paraíso personal, muy visible desde cualquier punto de esa localidad serrana. El caudillo, sin embargo, siguió comprando regalos de boda. Entre ellos, un piso en el barrio porteño de Recoleta, valuado en 25 millones de pesos. En total, en el búnker de Avanzar-Cambiemos contabilizan un gasto de 100 millones de pesos en los últimos dos años.
"Fue un partido clasificatorio, locales contra visitantes; la final la jugamos en octubre", ensayó, bravucón, el hermano del gobernador, después de las primarias, mientras se conocía un audio, dicen que filtrado a propósito por el poder local, en el que Adolfo Rodríguez Saá llama a "limpiar de traidores" su propio gobierno. Un cocktail de ceguera y prepotencia en la enfermedad del poder, que suele ser antesala del peor de los finales.
Fuente:www.lanacion.com.ar
SOC/GINT-Sepamos que una infancia triste es irreversible
The following information is used for educational purposes only.
19/08/2017 - Cartas al país
Sepamos que una infancia triste es irreversible
Osvaldo Pepe
El mejor obsequio a un niño, es regalarle felicidad. Y darle felicidad, es ayudarlo a ser bueno. Recordemos que lo que faltó en la infancia, siempre faltará.
En noviembre de 1952 las Naciones Unidas se reunieron con un propósito tan humanitario como elogiable. Sugerían que los distintos gobiernos, celebrasen anualmente el Día del Niño, para enfatizar la comprensión que ellos necesitan.
En 1990, es decir 38 años después, nuestro país adhirió plenamente a esta noble iniciativa y adoptó definitivamente como fecha, desde el año 2003, los terceros domingos de Agosto de cada año para esta celebración.
A propósito de la celebración de la jornada de hoy, deseo destacar un hecho que revela la alta dosis de sensibilidad de nuestros legisladores.
En casi todos los países se permite que los niños participen en conflictos armados, desde la edad de 15 años. En cambio nuestra legislación lo acepta solamente, ya cumplidos los 18 años.
Agregaría que cuando la mejor causa mata a un niño, muere la causa. Considero que esta resolución es un justo homenaje a ese explorador desarmado, que es toda criatura.
No debemos olvidar que la tristeza de ellos, tiene todos los ingredientes del dolor del adulto. Es como si expresásemos, que cada muñeca destruida o juguete roto, contiene una lágrima infantil.
Debemos comprender que una infancia triste, es irreversible. Pero una infancia feliz, también lo es.
Sepamos que un niño huérfano es casi siempre un niño sin niñez. Y no debemos defraudarlo, dado que hacerlo sería asesinar ilusiones. Recordemos que los niños nos aventajan en el porcentaje de esas ilusiones por el día siguiente.
Grabemos en nuestro espíritu esta especie de aforismo: “Los niños son páginas en blanco. Debemos escribirlas siempre, con guantes”.
José Narosky
Abracemos fuerte a un pibe, a todos los pibes
José Narosky, escribano, escritor y hacedor de aforismos, nos acerca una reflexión sobre la niñez. Ya con una buena parte de su vida al hombro, pensada originalmente por él como una reflexión sobre la niñez, su carta asoma hoy como una verdad rotunda a la luz del cobarde atentado terrorista en Barcelona, una de cuyas víctimas fue un nene de apenas 3 años. Antes del desastre criminal, Narosky escribió un párrafo de y para todos los tiempos: “Cuando la mejor causa mata a un niño, muere la causa”. Aunque la de ISIS no haya sido nunca una buena causa, esta muerte, en especial, más que ninguna otra, interpela la barbarie de los agresores y el contraste con la frase de Jesús: “Dejen que los niños vengan a mí y no se lo impidan”, según consta en los Evangelios de Mateo y Marcos. Narosky dice que “una infancia triste es irreversible”. Hay muchas infancias tristes en el país y el mundo. Esta es la era de las infancias con miedo. Abracemos fuerte hoy a hijos, nietos, sobrinos. A cualquier pibe, a todos los pibes del mundo.
Fuente:www.clarin.com
19/08/2017 - Cartas al país
Sepamos que una infancia triste es irreversible
Osvaldo Pepe
El mejor obsequio a un niño, es regalarle felicidad. Y darle felicidad, es ayudarlo a ser bueno. Recordemos que lo que faltó en la infancia, siempre faltará.
En noviembre de 1952 las Naciones Unidas se reunieron con un propósito tan humanitario como elogiable. Sugerían que los distintos gobiernos, celebrasen anualmente el Día del Niño, para enfatizar la comprensión que ellos necesitan.
En 1990, es decir 38 años después, nuestro país adhirió plenamente a esta noble iniciativa y adoptó definitivamente como fecha, desde el año 2003, los terceros domingos de Agosto de cada año para esta celebración.
A propósito de la celebración de la jornada de hoy, deseo destacar un hecho que revela la alta dosis de sensibilidad de nuestros legisladores.
En casi todos los países se permite que los niños participen en conflictos armados, desde la edad de 15 años. En cambio nuestra legislación lo acepta solamente, ya cumplidos los 18 años.
Agregaría que cuando la mejor causa mata a un niño, muere la causa. Considero que esta resolución es un justo homenaje a ese explorador desarmado, que es toda criatura.
No debemos olvidar que la tristeza de ellos, tiene todos los ingredientes del dolor del adulto. Es como si expresásemos, que cada muñeca destruida o juguete roto, contiene una lágrima infantil.
Debemos comprender que una infancia triste, es irreversible. Pero una infancia feliz, también lo es.
Sepamos que un niño huérfano es casi siempre un niño sin niñez. Y no debemos defraudarlo, dado que hacerlo sería asesinar ilusiones. Recordemos que los niños nos aventajan en el porcentaje de esas ilusiones por el día siguiente.
Grabemos en nuestro espíritu esta especie de aforismo: “Los niños son páginas en blanco. Debemos escribirlas siempre, con guantes”.
José Narosky
Abracemos fuerte a un pibe, a todos los pibes
José Narosky, escribano, escritor y hacedor de aforismos, nos acerca una reflexión sobre la niñez. Ya con una buena parte de su vida al hombro, pensada originalmente por él como una reflexión sobre la niñez, su carta asoma hoy como una verdad rotunda a la luz del cobarde atentado terrorista en Barcelona, una de cuyas víctimas fue un nene de apenas 3 años. Antes del desastre criminal, Narosky escribió un párrafo de y para todos los tiempos: “Cuando la mejor causa mata a un niño, muere la causa”. Aunque la de ISIS no haya sido nunca una buena causa, esta muerte, en especial, más que ninguna otra, interpela la barbarie de los agresores y el contraste con la frase de Jesús: “Dejen que los niños vengan a mí y no se lo impidan”, según consta en los Evangelios de Mateo y Marcos. Narosky dice que “una infancia triste es irreversible”. Hay muchas infancias tristes en el país y el mundo. Esta es la era de las infancias con miedo. Abracemos fuerte hoy a hijos, nietos, sobrinos. A cualquier pibe, a todos los pibes del mundo.
Fuente:www.clarin.com
Sunday, August 20, 2017
DÍA DEL NIÑO-2017/Los niños son nuestra prioridad por Carolina Stanley
The following information is used for educational purposes only.
DÍA DEL NIÑO
Los niños son nuestra prioridad
20 DE AGOSTO DE 2017
Carolina Stanley
LA NACION
Parece obvio, suena sencillo. Jugar. Algo que deben hacer todos los niños. Es uno de sus derechos. Los primeros años también requieren de una alimentación balanceada, buena estimulación, un entorno de afecto y de contención. Todo eso es clave para su desarrollo. Y eso es en lo que venimos trabajando en todos los rincones de la Argentina, en el marco del Plan Nacional de Primera Infancia.
Siendo hoy el Día del Niño, considero importante contar qué estamos haciendo en materia de primera infancia. El objetivo primordial es que todos los niños del país tengan las mismas oportunidades, sin importar su lugar de nacimiento. Por eso, llevamos firmados 944 acuerdos con provincias, 311 con municipios y 144 con organizaciones de la sociedad civil. Esos números representan el trabajo coordinado para acompañar a más de 90.000 chicos. A ellos y a sus familias. Porque mientras estos niños pasan horas en estos Espacios de Primera Infancia, sus padres están trabajando, buscando trabajo, capacitándose. Se trata de un círculo virtuoso, que beneficia a cada vez más personas.
Hoy en la Argentina ya hay 744 espacios en los que trabajan 12.000 personas que capacitamos en esta gestión. Y llegaremos a diciembre con el doble de espacios adheridos al plan. Esto quiere decir que las provincias le dicen sí a este plan. Que todos tiramos hacia el mismo lugar con la misma fuerza. Que todos consideramos que los niños son lo más importante.
Atender a la primera infancia es hoy más que nunca una de las tareas prioritarias del Estado, las organizaciones y la sociedad en su conjunto, porque como se demostró en la investigación y en la práctica es durante los primeros años de vida que se producen los grandes procesos biológicos, psicológicos y afectivos que condicionan el desarrollo saludable o no de las personas.
La atención a la primera infancia es la herramienta fundamental que garantiza que todas las personas cuenten con las mismas oportunidades desde su origen para poder así proyectar y planificar su proyecto personal de vida. Con buenos cuidados de salud, buena nutrición, estimulación adecuada y contención, estos chicos tienen garantizado un pleno desarrollo.
En el Norte o en el Sur. En las ciudades o en los pueblos. Vamos a lograrlo en todo el país, trabajamos en equipo para ello. Desde Desarrollo Social atendemos la emergencia y también implementamos políticas públicas de largo plazo. Reducir la pobreza es una meta de largo plazo. Y apostar a la infancia es una de las bases para ir en esa dirección.
La autora es ministra de Desarrollo Social de la Nación
Fuente: www.lanacion.com.ar y sección Ilustrado por Pablo Bernasconi.
DÍA DEL NIÑO
Los niños son nuestra prioridad
20 DE AGOSTO DE 2017
Carolina Stanley
LA NACION
Parece obvio, suena sencillo. Jugar. Algo que deben hacer todos los niños. Es uno de sus derechos. Los primeros años también requieren de una alimentación balanceada, buena estimulación, un entorno de afecto y de contención. Todo eso es clave para su desarrollo. Y eso es en lo que venimos trabajando en todos los rincones de la Argentina, en el marco del Plan Nacional de Primera Infancia.
Siendo hoy el Día del Niño, considero importante contar qué estamos haciendo en materia de primera infancia. El objetivo primordial es que todos los niños del país tengan las mismas oportunidades, sin importar su lugar de nacimiento. Por eso, llevamos firmados 944 acuerdos con provincias, 311 con municipios y 144 con organizaciones de la sociedad civil. Esos números representan el trabajo coordinado para acompañar a más de 90.000 chicos. A ellos y a sus familias. Porque mientras estos niños pasan horas en estos Espacios de Primera Infancia, sus padres están trabajando, buscando trabajo, capacitándose. Se trata de un círculo virtuoso, que beneficia a cada vez más personas.
Hoy en la Argentina ya hay 744 espacios en los que trabajan 12.000 personas que capacitamos en esta gestión. Y llegaremos a diciembre con el doble de espacios adheridos al plan. Esto quiere decir que las provincias le dicen sí a este plan. Que todos tiramos hacia el mismo lugar con la misma fuerza. Que todos consideramos que los niños son lo más importante.
Atender a la primera infancia es hoy más que nunca una de las tareas prioritarias del Estado, las organizaciones y la sociedad en su conjunto, porque como se demostró en la investigación y en la práctica es durante los primeros años de vida que se producen los grandes procesos biológicos, psicológicos y afectivos que condicionan el desarrollo saludable o no de las personas.
La atención a la primera infancia es la herramienta fundamental que garantiza que todas las personas cuenten con las mismas oportunidades desde su origen para poder así proyectar y planificar su proyecto personal de vida. Con buenos cuidados de salud, buena nutrición, estimulación adecuada y contención, estos chicos tienen garantizado un pleno desarrollo.
En el Norte o en el Sur. En las ciudades o en los pueblos. Vamos a lograrlo en todo el país, trabajamos en equipo para ello. Desde Desarrollo Social atendemos la emergencia y también implementamos políticas públicas de largo plazo. Reducir la pobreza es una meta de largo plazo. Y apostar a la infancia es una de las bases para ir en esa dirección.
La autora es ministra de Desarrollo Social de la Nación
Fuente: www.lanacion.com.ar y sección Ilustrado por Pablo Bernasconi.
¡FELIZ DÍA DEL NIÑO!
The following information is used for educational purposes only.
¡FELIZ DÍA DEL NIÑO!
DIVERSIÓN SIN FIN
IDEAS LOCAS
AMOR INCONDICIONAL
DEDICACIÓN Y ACOMPAÑAMIENTO
ESPERANZA EN LAS DIFICULTADES
LIBERTAD CON RESPONSABILIDAD
NIÑEZ CORRESPONDIENTE
INDEPENDENCIA PERSONAL
ÑEQUE (=fuerza,valor)PERMANENTE
OBEDIENCIA CONSCIENTE
Aprovechemos este día para reencontrarnos con nuestro niño/a interior-que estoy segura-
todos conservamos en algún rincón de nuestro ser.
Busquemos en esa inocencia, bondad, rebeldía, caprichos, ¿por qué no?, y tantas otras
emociones y sentimientos, esa fuerza y ganas que nos guíen e inspiren para revisar y
mejorar nuestras actitudes y acciones del hoy, caminando y haciendo nuestra vida ya
como adultos.
Intentemos reflexionar,también, para cambiar, acomodar, mejorar, ajustar todo aquello
que ciertamente todos podemos modificar de esta etapa que ahora transitamos,pero no
perdamos de vista,aunque sea sólo por algunos instantes, esa pureza, calidez,
inocencia,sorpresa de nuestra niñez, aún en medio del ritmo vertiginoso actual de nuestra
existencia como adultos.
Atrevámonos a copiar y jugar como esos niños que estén cerca nuestro para activar
nuestro niño/a interior y mostrémosles que estamos allí para acompañarlos, escucharlos,
darles una mano, un abrazo afectuoso, y llenarlos de besos que tan bien les hacen y nos
reconfortan también a nosotros cuando podemos mimarlos.
A todos los niños/as que todos llevamos en nuestro corazón y a los que están cerca de estos
seres pequeños y tan puros,
¡FELIZ DÍA DEL NIÑO!
por Clara Moras (*)
(*) En mis días en el jardín de infantes
Fuente: Palabras y foto de Clara Moras/Google Images.
¡FELIZ DÍA DEL NIÑO!
DIVERSIÓN SIN FIN
IDEAS LOCAS
AMOR INCONDICIONAL
DEDICACIÓN Y ACOMPAÑAMIENTO
ESPERANZA EN LAS DIFICULTADES
LIBERTAD CON RESPONSABILIDAD
NIÑEZ CORRESPONDIENTE
INDEPENDENCIA PERSONAL
ÑEQUE (=fuerza,valor)PERMANENTE
OBEDIENCIA CONSCIENTE
Aprovechemos este día para reencontrarnos con nuestro niño/a interior-que estoy segura-
todos conservamos en algún rincón de nuestro ser.
Busquemos en esa inocencia, bondad, rebeldía, caprichos, ¿por qué no?, y tantas otras
emociones y sentimientos, esa fuerza y ganas que nos guíen e inspiren para revisar y
mejorar nuestras actitudes y acciones del hoy, caminando y haciendo nuestra vida ya
como adultos.
Intentemos reflexionar,también, para cambiar, acomodar, mejorar, ajustar todo aquello
que ciertamente todos podemos modificar de esta etapa que ahora transitamos,pero no
perdamos de vista,aunque sea sólo por algunos instantes, esa pureza, calidez,
inocencia,sorpresa de nuestra niñez, aún en medio del ritmo vertiginoso actual de nuestra
existencia como adultos.
Atrevámonos a copiar y jugar como esos niños que estén cerca nuestro para activar
nuestro niño/a interior y mostrémosles que estamos allí para acompañarlos, escucharlos,
darles una mano, un abrazo afectuoso, y llenarlos de besos que tan bien les hacen y nos
reconfortan también a nosotros cuando podemos mimarlos.
A todos los niños/as que todos llevamos en nuestro corazón y a los que están cerca de estos
seres pequeños y tan puros,
¡FELIZ DÍA DEL NIÑO!
por Clara Moras (*)
(*) En mis días en el jardín de infantes
Fuente: Palabras y foto de Clara Moras/Google Images.
Saturday, August 12, 2017
SOC/GINT-Las dos orillas
The following information is used for educational purposes only.
Las dos orillas
La necesidad de avanzar nos impone un esfuerzo colectivo mayúsculo, una grandeza que abreve en los momentos de mayor ejemplaridad y los supere
12 DE AGOSTO DE 2017
El cruce de todo río ancho y caudaloso sorprende a veces en la mitad del cauce a quien lo emprende, con dudas acerca de si debe continuar la marcha o si es mejor retroceder a la orilla de partida. Es el instante en que están lejanas por igual. Se abandonó una, pues no había futuro en esas tierras, y se pensó que la travesía hacia la otra sería más fácil y mayor la recompensa al llegar. El dilema es tan viejo como el mundo, como lo es cualquier camino de cambio que se emprende.
Éste es un momento de efervescencia política en la Argentina. Si conseguimos examinar sabiamente la realidad del país, acaso comparándola con la de nuestros vecinos, o con países que supieron estar manifiestamente por debajo del nuestro, ejercitaríamos un sano criterio crítico y podríamos superar las contingencias que nos acucian.
Durante años, hemos elegido como nación apostar por el exacerbamiento del consumo. Lo hicimos sobre las bases falsas de que el clientelismo podría subsistir indefinidamente como parásito de las arcas del Estado. Ignoramos que, por definición, los recursos públicos, igual que los privados, son limitados. En ese tren de irracionales conjeturas, convertimos al Estado en el mayor empleador del país. El 40% de la población se alimenta de su mano. Eso ha aumentado en términos exorbitantes el gasto público y elevado el déficit fiscal total al 8 por ciento del PBI. La deuda pública en Lebacs es de 900.000 millones de pesos. ¿Cuándo y cómo comenzará a desactivarse una bomba financiera como ésa?
Los gobiernos han procurado enjuagar los problemas de tal índole con un sistema de impuestos asfixiante, tan al límite de lo posible que ha generado la retracción de la inversión privada en todos los niveles. Incluso, provocó que algunos establecimientos fabriles de origen extranjero se retiraran del escenario nacional. Pasamos de ser exportadores de gas y petróleo a importarlo en condiciones sumamente ruinosas desde los nefastos años del kirchnerismo. Como parte de una aventura irresponsable, repartimos tarifas de regalo, sin importar la gravedad de que se dejara de invertir en esos servicios a raíz de lo sucedido. No hubo más usinas, ni represas, ni caminos, ni puertos, y los pocos que había se deterioraron.
Los mentores de Maduro en el país prohibieron, en su hora de gobierno, exportaciones con mercados seguros, como fue el caso del trigo, del maíz, de la carne. En otros, se gravó el comercio exterior con tasas de magnitud absurda; es la que aún afecta las ventas de soja, por ejemplo.
El régimen laboral y previsional se articuló de modo tan gravoso para el empleador que terminó por producir, como efecto inverso, un proceso de desocupación, en claro perjuicio para los trabajadores. Los sindicatos se desentendieron de ese fenómeno; optaron por la especulación política a la defensa real del interés permanente de sus afiliados. Un régimen laboral confiscatorio no podía sino llevar a la informalidad y evasión fiscal que hoy caracteriza a importantes franjas del mercado.
En esos términos a nadie podía asombrar que se desembocara en una crisis económico-social. Se la atendió, según hábitos perniciosos, con la proliferación cada vez mayor de subsidios, y peor, con la destrucción de la cultura del esfuerzo y del trabajo que había empinado a nuestro país en el mundo.
Hoy, hay personas que no aceptan empleos formales pues, de hacerlo, perderían subsidios que los asisten sin reciprocidad de esfuerzos. Son signos de que el porvenir se encuentra comprometido.
Esos males delinean una orilla. La otra muestra una razonable refinanciación de la deuda a tasas mucho más favorables, la eliminación del cepo cambiario, un imprescindible ajuste parcial de tarifas, en algún sentido reparando injusticias y desigualdades y, en otros, sorprendiendo a quienes estábamos habituados a una política de insostenible cuasi gratuidad. Transporte, luz, gas y agua eran variantes de un país irreal.
Se llegó a creer que nadie debía pagar en nada el justo precio. Los subsidios eran enormes y aún lo siguen siendo en bastantes rubros.
El tiempo transcurrido muestra un fuerte descenso de la inflación, aunque insuficiente para que contemos con la moneda sana que pedía Juan B. Justo hace cien años. También ha habido este último año y medio intentos de racionalizar el Estado y su administración; un fuerte aumento de las exportaciones agrícolas, como respecto del trigo liberado ya de las retenciones y prohibiciones que lo ahogaban, y la reactivación de la industria metalmecánica, en especial, la ligada al agro. De igual forma han despegado vuelo la actividad de la construcción y las ventas de inmuebles, automotores y motos. Por lo demás, el plan de sinceramiento fiscal registró resultados sorprendentes para propios y extraños, con ingresos nuevos que han ensanchado considerablemente la base tributaria.
Faltan muchísimas cosas por hacer, desde luego. Para completar el paso hacia la otra orilla no hay dudas de que es necesario un cambio de mentalidad y paradigmas. La otra ribera se perfila aún en la lejanía, pero está más cercana que antes.
Se halla así abierta la esperanzadora posibilidad de lograr una transformación decisiva que restituya al nuestro la condición de país productivo sobre la base de una educación pública inclusiva y exigente a fin de que se cumplan los requerimientos actualizados en ciencias y humanismo.
La Argentina ha perdido en las últimas décadas, y sobre todo en el siglo XXI, no sólo importantes posiciones relativas en lo material en comparación con otras naciones, sino que en lo moral ha decaído en la consideración general. La amistad con la Venezuela de Chávez y Maduro ha sido el peso muerto que echó sobre nuestros hombros un izquierdismo retrógrado, que en su paranoia intelectual ha reclamado estos días más crímenes políticos al régimen de Caracas porque no le parece suficiente los habidos. ¿Eran éstos los que se escandalizaban por el terrorismo de Estado de los años setenta?
La necesidad de avanzar hacia la otra orilla nos impone a los argentinos un esfuerzo colectivo mayúsculo, una grandeza de miras compartida en grado no menor al de los momentos de mayor ejemplaridad nacional.
Fuente:www.lanacion.com.ar
Las dos orillas
La necesidad de avanzar nos impone un esfuerzo colectivo mayúsculo, una grandeza que abreve en los momentos de mayor ejemplaridad y los supere
12 DE AGOSTO DE 2017
El cruce de todo río ancho y caudaloso sorprende a veces en la mitad del cauce a quien lo emprende, con dudas acerca de si debe continuar la marcha o si es mejor retroceder a la orilla de partida. Es el instante en que están lejanas por igual. Se abandonó una, pues no había futuro en esas tierras, y se pensó que la travesía hacia la otra sería más fácil y mayor la recompensa al llegar. El dilema es tan viejo como el mundo, como lo es cualquier camino de cambio que se emprende.
Éste es un momento de efervescencia política en la Argentina. Si conseguimos examinar sabiamente la realidad del país, acaso comparándola con la de nuestros vecinos, o con países que supieron estar manifiestamente por debajo del nuestro, ejercitaríamos un sano criterio crítico y podríamos superar las contingencias que nos acucian.
Durante años, hemos elegido como nación apostar por el exacerbamiento del consumo. Lo hicimos sobre las bases falsas de que el clientelismo podría subsistir indefinidamente como parásito de las arcas del Estado. Ignoramos que, por definición, los recursos públicos, igual que los privados, son limitados. En ese tren de irracionales conjeturas, convertimos al Estado en el mayor empleador del país. El 40% de la población se alimenta de su mano. Eso ha aumentado en términos exorbitantes el gasto público y elevado el déficit fiscal total al 8 por ciento del PBI. La deuda pública en Lebacs es de 900.000 millones de pesos. ¿Cuándo y cómo comenzará a desactivarse una bomba financiera como ésa?
Los gobiernos han procurado enjuagar los problemas de tal índole con un sistema de impuestos asfixiante, tan al límite de lo posible que ha generado la retracción de la inversión privada en todos los niveles. Incluso, provocó que algunos establecimientos fabriles de origen extranjero se retiraran del escenario nacional. Pasamos de ser exportadores de gas y petróleo a importarlo en condiciones sumamente ruinosas desde los nefastos años del kirchnerismo. Como parte de una aventura irresponsable, repartimos tarifas de regalo, sin importar la gravedad de que se dejara de invertir en esos servicios a raíz de lo sucedido. No hubo más usinas, ni represas, ni caminos, ni puertos, y los pocos que había se deterioraron.
Los mentores de Maduro en el país prohibieron, en su hora de gobierno, exportaciones con mercados seguros, como fue el caso del trigo, del maíz, de la carne. En otros, se gravó el comercio exterior con tasas de magnitud absurda; es la que aún afecta las ventas de soja, por ejemplo.
El régimen laboral y previsional se articuló de modo tan gravoso para el empleador que terminó por producir, como efecto inverso, un proceso de desocupación, en claro perjuicio para los trabajadores. Los sindicatos se desentendieron de ese fenómeno; optaron por la especulación política a la defensa real del interés permanente de sus afiliados. Un régimen laboral confiscatorio no podía sino llevar a la informalidad y evasión fiscal que hoy caracteriza a importantes franjas del mercado.
En esos términos a nadie podía asombrar que se desembocara en una crisis económico-social. Se la atendió, según hábitos perniciosos, con la proliferación cada vez mayor de subsidios, y peor, con la destrucción de la cultura del esfuerzo y del trabajo que había empinado a nuestro país en el mundo.
Hoy, hay personas que no aceptan empleos formales pues, de hacerlo, perderían subsidios que los asisten sin reciprocidad de esfuerzos. Son signos de que el porvenir se encuentra comprometido.
Esos males delinean una orilla. La otra muestra una razonable refinanciación de la deuda a tasas mucho más favorables, la eliminación del cepo cambiario, un imprescindible ajuste parcial de tarifas, en algún sentido reparando injusticias y desigualdades y, en otros, sorprendiendo a quienes estábamos habituados a una política de insostenible cuasi gratuidad. Transporte, luz, gas y agua eran variantes de un país irreal.
Se llegó a creer que nadie debía pagar en nada el justo precio. Los subsidios eran enormes y aún lo siguen siendo en bastantes rubros.
El tiempo transcurrido muestra un fuerte descenso de la inflación, aunque insuficiente para que contemos con la moneda sana que pedía Juan B. Justo hace cien años. También ha habido este último año y medio intentos de racionalizar el Estado y su administración; un fuerte aumento de las exportaciones agrícolas, como respecto del trigo liberado ya de las retenciones y prohibiciones que lo ahogaban, y la reactivación de la industria metalmecánica, en especial, la ligada al agro. De igual forma han despegado vuelo la actividad de la construcción y las ventas de inmuebles, automotores y motos. Por lo demás, el plan de sinceramiento fiscal registró resultados sorprendentes para propios y extraños, con ingresos nuevos que han ensanchado considerablemente la base tributaria.
Faltan muchísimas cosas por hacer, desde luego. Para completar el paso hacia la otra orilla no hay dudas de que es necesario un cambio de mentalidad y paradigmas. La otra ribera se perfila aún en la lejanía, pero está más cercana que antes.
Se halla así abierta la esperanzadora posibilidad de lograr una transformación decisiva que restituya al nuestro la condición de país productivo sobre la base de una educación pública inclusiva y exigente a fin de que se cumplan los requerimientos actualizados en ciencias y humanismo.
La Argentina ha perdido en las últimas décadas, y sobre todo en el siglo XXI, no sólo importantes posiciones relativas en lo material en comparación con otras naciones, sino que en lo moral ha decaído en la consideración general. La amistad con la Venezuela de Chávez y Maduro ha sido el peso muerto que echó sobre nuestros hombros un izquierdismo retrógrado, que en su paranoia intelectual ha reclamado estos días más crímenes políticos al régimen de Caracas porque no le parece suficiente los habidos. ¿Eran éstos los que se escandalizaban por el terrorismo de Estado de los años setenta?
La necesidad de avanzar hacia la otra orilla nos impone a los argentinos un esfuerzo colectivo mayúsculo, una grandeza de miras compartida en grado no menor al de los momentos de mayor ejemplaridad nacional.
Fuente:www.lanacion.com.ar
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