Song for Day 56 - "Biko" by Peter Gabriel

Day 56 - "Biko" by Peter Gabriel

Confucius:   "They may crush cinnabar, yet they do not take away its color; one may burn a fragrant herb, yet it will not destroy the scent."

Songwriter Peter Gabriel.

      Conscientious and experienced officials are being demoted or discarded.  When asked to do the inappropriate, some have resigned, only to be replaced by far less scrupulous amateurs.  We need to develop innovative ways for government functionaries to oppose the unthinkable without going full-blown "Russia House".

      This being the 56th Day, the time has come to speak of Isoroku Takano.  His first name is Japanese for "56", his father's age when he was born.  Little Isoroku had the good fortune to be adopted by the influential Yamamoto family.  We know him as Admiral Yamamoto, the Harvard grad who implemented the attack on Pearl Harbor, despite being against the initiative. 

Isoroku Yamamoto at 26.

      Isoroku was dearly loved by one and all, including the Emperor.  As a junior officer, Yamamoto had been given another order he disliked.  Japan had more pilots than planes.  The "solution" to this "problem" (seriously, WTP?) was to cut down on the number of flyers by having them swim [coincidentally] Hiroshima Bay.  Yamamoto voiced his objections but was overruled by the powers that were.  Strict military protocol was not the only thing preventing Isoroku from giving these idiots the finger;  he'd lost his index and middle ones* in the Battle of Tsushima.

      On the day of the test there was a huge ceremony, after which the pilots lined up along the water's edge and dove into the bay on command.  When the last of them hit the water, Yamamoto surprised one and all by stripping down and joining them.  The entire general staff freaked.  Each knowing his ass was grass if anything happened to Hirohito's home-boy, they ran along the shoreline in their formal uniforms, ceremonial swords and knee-high boots, screaming obscenities, waving batons and ordering Yamamoto to GTF out of the water.  Puffing and wheezing, these septuagenarians were relieved when Isoroku made it to the other side.  They must have soiled their dress uniforms when they witnessed what happened next.  Not certain that he'd made his point with these incorrigible hacks, Isoroku climbed onto the rocks, stood up, saluted his superiors, and dove back into the ocean for a return trip.

      Need I add that there were no more "swimming tests"?

Beware the Ides of March!

      As for the rest of us, the arts have given us an equally inventive and effective way to oppose injustices of the past, present and future.  By definition, every masterpiece will survive the inequities it describes.  In addition to other media, we have music as a universal language.  We don't always need to flood social media with speeches.  We can post tunes and let the melodies and lyrics speak for themselves.  We don't need to speak of the First Amendment as an abstraction;  its reality can be made evident by playing protest songs, starting with those removed from our airwaves:  "Burn, Baby, Burn" (by Bruce Cockburn),  "Black Day in July" (by Gordon Lightfoot)  or "Requiem For The Masses" (The Association), to name a few.  There is no requirement to harangue less politicalized friends with heavy-handed rants. 

     Just play the damned song.

 Lyrics: "Biko" (1980)

September '77
Port Elizabeth weather fine
It was business as usual
In police room 619
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Yihla Moja, Yihla Moja
-The man is dead

When I try to sleep at night
I can only dream in red
The outside world is black and white
With only one color dead
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Yihla Moja, Yihla Moja
-The man is dead

You can blow out a candle
But you can't blow out a fire
Once the flames begin to catch
The wind will blow it higher
Oh Biko, Biko, because Biko
Yihla Moja, Yihla Moja
-The man is dead

And the eyes of the world are
watching now
watching now

* Yamamoto lost these fingers in his left hand;  he'd be saluting these prats with his right hand.