Community service – peace is just a different word for reform backlog

I am not sure whether in a better future the sluggish and unbearable fade time of “peace”, in which the population is despondent and bored, should come to the end.

In any case, it is certain: Now that Germany is proud and raised by the main time, it is time for a long overdue commitment on my part, which is anything but easy for me: I once practiced betrayal to Germany. In other words: I was once a community service.

But that’s not all. Even worse: Basically, I not only did not want to serve my so -called fatherland with the weapon, I actually didn’t want to serve him at all, since I intended to the exotic view that the idea of ​​a “fatherland” basically formulated – mildly formulated – overhauled, even Stone Age concept: that one of the Rotte from Tumbem pride in the contested dirt hole in which she brings up with it, which competes with her, which In relation to this dirt hole, the right to make it up to make “justice” did not want to obtain me at the time. In my adolescence, I was still far from grasping that the so -called peace is the dreary heroless time in which people pursue their dull everyday shops and eat their roast on Sundays, that is, nothing more than “a period of fraud between two periods of the struggle”, as the writer Ambrose Bierce once wrote. I was naive and stupid.

As a young person, as a left, I was receptive to all kinds of whispering suspect beetle -bearing, who read thick, difficult -to -understand books, “created peace without weapons” or seriously believed that the enemy could be stopped by holding him with letters painted with letters.

I was one of those blinds who had not understood that the Russian, if one day he will stand with a knife between his teeth in front of my apartment door, will not disappear through the consecrated reconciliation of an Erich-Fried poem and that “upgrade” is only a different word for “security”.

To my apology, I can put up: Back then, in the Federal Republic of the late 1980s, it was not too much to put an exhaustive time to teach me about who or what I should “defend” there. The “freedom” and “democracy” were talked about, but that seemed to me to be word sleeves. After all, the German had not shown any particular interest for one thing for the other until he was given both by the Allies. In fact, the liberal-democratic FRG was a cloudy, potato-like country full of old Nazis, humorless nerds and tied, anti-pleasure caretaker figures, which had organized two world wars and a Holocaust and whose political staff made no institution, to hide his shamelessness. The “freedom” was the freedom to choose between seven detergents and 13 television programs, and the level of “democracy” was so embarrassed that the chains were not felt as long as the power of the cushion was respected and no stupid questions.

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Thomas Blum In principle, it does not agree with the prevailing so -called reality. For the time being, he will not be able to change them, but he can use them to exhort them or, if necessary, also cover one. So that the bad withdraws. We are solidarity with his fight against reality. Therefore, “the good column” appears at this point on Mondays. Only the best quality for the best readers! The collected texts can be found at: dasnd.de/diegute

“Democracy is the freedom to be able to stop at the traffic lights at the traffic lights,” explained a convinced social democrat and man of the middle, in the 80s, and I was too rural in my post -pubescent anarchopacific delusion and nailed to grasp the depth of this wisdom. I only understood that his sentence, which was somehow habermas -chosen, of course as a praise on the local form of society and the beauty of its control system.

The population of the once so cloudy, potato-like country is now blessed with mind and full of love and humanity. From the Shoah and the world wars, she pulled teachings, and the politicians chosen by it are wise, sincere, virtuous and concerned about the well -being of everyone. Democracy and freedom are no longer empty phrases today. So today I see a lot differently. I learned: my one -time childish reservations against the defense “of our values” and my infantile flirt with pacifism were the consequences of aberration. “Peace” is just a glossy term for reform backlog.

If I think about it, I developed a sense of military early on, even in a blessed childhood: I have the freedom of the West, be it even with plastic characters, already successfully defended on the carpet of the parental living room, where the blue skirts brought the blessings of civilization into the backward regions of the red extensions.

And when I felt particularly patriotic and civilizational, in the absence of an officer cap, I took my parents’ teapot warmer out of my kitchen drawer, put it on my head and felt like Clausewitz and Frederick the Great together. Had only missing that I would have sung the patriotic verses of our popular local poet Wiglaf Droste, but unfortunately they did not yet write: »The other cheek hold down / is nonsense with sauce. / You should make holes in his enemies / and big. “