Egyptian Scribbles: Sunsets over Cairo

Wednesday, 24 October 2007

Sunsets over Cairo

I walk home from work every night - an hour walk along crowded pavements and hectic, traffic-laden roads. I love to see the other people also on the street--business men in suits, people carrying home loads of tea or wood on their heads, college students in jeans and tight t-shirts (with a veil if they are women)... What I really love, however, are the sunsets over the Nile. My favourite part of the walk is when I cross a bridge over the Nile and I stop to stare into the swirling water below, lit up by the orange sky. There are numerous fellucas (small sail boats) out on the water and equally numerous, but less attractive 'disco boats', all lit up in gaudy colours with music blaring. The hour ends up passing very quickly...

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Quotations from Books/ Legal Cases/ Articles I"m Reading

From Richard Rorty, "Human Rights, Rationality and Sentimentality":
"If one follows Baier's advice one will not see it as the moral educator's task to answer the rational egotist's question "Why should I be moral?" but rather to answer the much more frequently posed question "Why should I care about a stranger, a person who is no kin to me, a person whose habits I find disgusting?". The traditional answer to the latter question is "Because kinship and custom are morally irrelevant, irrelevant to the obligations imposed by the recognition of membership in the same species". This has never been very convincing, since it begs the question at issue: whether mere species membership is, in fact, a sufficient surrogate for closer kinship. Furthermore, that answer leaves one wide open to Nietzsche's discomfiting rejoinder: That universalistic notion, Nietzsche will sneer, would only have crossed the mind of a slave – or, perhaps, the mind of an intellectual, a priest whose self-esteem and livelihood both depend on getting the rest of us to accept a sacred, unarguable, unchallengeable paradox.
A better sort of answer is the sort of long, sad, sentimental story which begins "Because this is what it is like to be in her situation – to be far from home, among strangers", or "Because she might become your daughter-in-law", or "Because her mother would grieve for her". Such stories, repeated and varied over the centuries, have induced us, the rich, safe, powerful, people, to tolerate, and even to cherish, powerless people – people whose appearance or habits or beliefs at first seemed an insult to our own moral identity, our sense of the limits of permissible human variation."