Active Knowledge Prevention

While researching for an article about Nias traditional houses, I found two prominent scientific papers focusing on the chief's house in Hilimondregeraya village, South-Nias. The first was authored by Mario Alain Viaro from Geneva, Switzerland, and the second by Petra Gruber & Mia Mechler from Vienna, Austria. These papers not only describe the house as the pinnacle of Nias architecture, but also in terms of its rich artistic elements, including carvings, sculptures, and ornaments.

One of the things these papers consistently reiterate is the remarkable earthquake resistance of Nias houses. Viaro, in particular, applied these very principles when designing the Museum Pusaka Nias in Gunungsitoli. It was as if nature itself sought to test his applied technology when a powerful earthquake, measuring 8.7 SR, occurred on 28 March 2005. While 80% of the modern buildings in the region collapsed or were damaged, the museum, much like the traditional houses in the South, remained perfectly intact.

However, this vital knowledge, which Viaro subsequently documented in a book, was regrettably not promoted to the Nias people. Consequently, they were unable to design their own houses with these proven, life-saving principles. One might perhaps excuse this, as the book was written in French and English, languages not commonly known to the average Nias person.

Yet, there is a far more tragic story embedded within the history of the Hilimondregeraya chief's house itself. The owner, so profoundly struck by the ingenuity and beauty of the structure, grew afraid that the chief builder might replicate it elsewhere. Therefore, as part of a ritual, he "offered" the builder by dropping him from the top roof of the new house he had just completed. The builder rolled down and died. This horrifying incident demonstrates that knowledge was not merely withheld, but actively destroyed, thereby undermining the very foundation of scientific advancement that relies on knowledge sharing.

I realise this is a basic attitude in Nias. Those who possess specific knowledge often hide it. They even call it "elemu," akin to black magic. They are only willing to share it against payment for a long learning process. As a result, it seems they actively make it harder for knowledge to advance. Therefore, there has been little progress in medicine, in farming, in architecture, indeed, in almost every area.

And suddenly I realised, this deep-seated reluctance to share knowledge is probably also the reason why I have found it so difficult to find Nias people willing to work together to document the history, culture, and language of Nias – a project I have been running since 2020. I observe that people often think solely of money and immediate benefit, with little passion to preserve their heritage. This has been a source of considerable frustration for me.

Irony and Tragedy

It sounds like a "contradictio in se", as the Latin phrase goes: a human rights organisation that does not care for the human rights of its own staff. Yet, this is exactly what has happened to someone I know, and I feel profound pity for her.

She had worked for this human rights organisation in London for sixteen years before this tragedy occurred. She is one of those rare people who are genuinely passionate about their work—in her case, fighting human rights violations across the world. Being an American working in London, she is blunt by English standards, speaking directly to the point without the polite camouflage we are accustomed to in England. Alongside her primary role, she also volunteered with Unite, the union that protects workers' rights. True to her idealism, she actively fought for the rights of her co-workers when they were unjustly treated by her own organisation.

Then, the COVID-19 pandemic hit. Many people began working from home, and in the case of London, many moved out of the expensive city to the countryside, commuting to the office only once or twice a week. Like so many others, she relocated, took out a mortgage, and bought a flat two hours away from London by train. She was fifty-six years old at the time—a background detail that is crucial to understanding her situation.

After the pandemic, she got a new manager, whom some considered incapable—a wrong hire, by all accounts. A conflict brewed between them until the manager eventually found a way to fire her. She fought back and won the tribunal, proving her manager was wrong. However, the organisation refused to rehire her. Having already abolished her position, perhaps in anticipation of losing the court case, they simply stated they no longer had a role for her. She was fired. Despite trying repeatedly to find a way back, she achieved nothing, even as the organisation continued to hire people for other positions.

Last night, I heard she was crying for hours. She is now sixty-one years old, with a mortgage to pay, and has lost her job. Searching for a new role in London at sixty-one is a gargantuan task. I even heard from someone else that she was thinking of committing suicide.

I feel immense pity for her, and I wish I could help. How can a human rights organisation do this to its long-standing staff? She was not dismissed because she committed fraud or due to poor performance, but simply because her manager could not work with her. It is a terrible irony and tragedy that someone who spent decades passionately campaigning for human rights and fighting for the rights of her co-workers has ultimately found herself on the receiving end of that very same system.

Social Media

 

Our daily interaction with social media resembles a compulsion more than a choice, a reflection brought to the forefront by a small argument I had with my wife today. The context of our debate lies in the UK government’s plans to ban social media use for under-16s. Whilst my wife is of the opinion that such a ban is cruel and that youngsters should instead learn how to use these platforms, I find myself firmly in favour of the restriction.

I cannot simply assume that young people are capable of making good judgements regarding these platforms. My disagreement is rooted in what I observe at home; our own child seems entirely incapable of exercising discretion online. He believes everything he hears on these platforms, whilst completely disregarding us when we tell him otherwise. He cannot even differentiate between a prank and a true story, refusing to trust me when I attempt to explain that what he has watched is merely a joke. 

However, this constant digital connection presents certain persistent challenges to his daily life. He spends hours watching YouTube shorts and playing games. His screen time has dominated his routine to the extent that he watches YouTube during meals—leaving me to doubt whether he even tastes the food he is eating. He watches videos whilst brushing his teeth, taking a shower, doing his homework, and even when reading his mandatory books from school. Consequently, he cannot comprehend what he reads. 

I do not assume that all children are like this, but when I look at adults like ourselves, we also spend hours scrolling. The only difference is that we occasionally check the time so that we do not miss the work we have to do. I suspect we are not the only ones, and that other adults probably suffer from a similar issue.

Yet, my point is actually much bigger, as social media actively spreads fake news. In recent weeks, I have seen numerous AI-generated videos on Instagram spreading fake news about how dangerous London is. Having lived in London and travelled around the city frequently, I have never witnessed any of these horrible crimes. There must be a campaign against London, and sadly, Elon Musk, Donald Trump, and J.D. Vance are part of it—seemingly targeting our mayor simply because he is non-white and a Muslim, even though he was re-elected three times because people approve of his job.

Furthermore, there is a relentless obsession with getting likes and clicks, whatever the price. We see young people live-streaming themselves driving the wrong way in Ireland, causing car crashes, or risking their lives for stunts in the hope of social media approval. Feeds are constantly bombarded with conspiracy theories and fake stories about our own government and politicians, leaving people delusional about reality. In the end, we are left wondering how it is that people have lost trust in politics and public institutions.

Ultimately, we can survive without social media, but we are worse off with it. Bearing in mind these heavy disruptions to our lives, a social media ban would be a redemption—saving us from our addiction and allowing us to get our lives back.

Heart

 

To conclude my final day in Cagliari, I visited the Tutankhamun exhibition in La Tomba of the Bastione San Remy. 

In general, the exhibition offers a fascinating insight into how grandiose and meticulous the Egyptians were regarding the funerals of their kings. It is intriguing to reflect on their belief that death is merely another journey to eternal life, as if our journey on Earth were not already challenging enough.

However, amidst all this ancient sophistication, one particular detail caught my attention. During the judgement in the afterlife, the heart of the deceased was weighed on a scale against the feather of the goddess Maat, the symbol of truth and justice. If the heart was as light as the feather, the soul was permitted to access eternal life; if it weighed more, it was deemed to be burdened with guilt and lies. Faced with this outcome, the deceased would see the intervention of Ammit, the "Soul Eater", who devoured the heart and condemned the soul to eternal destruction. 

It seems the entire achievement of a human life is measured solely by the weight of the heart, not by long records of good deeds or the golden palaces they built, but by the absence of guilt and lies. Reflecting on this, I must admit that Donald Trump immediately came to my mind. Oh gosh.

Turning back to the concept of the heart, I am reminded of the mythology of Nias, which also focuses on the heart, though as a source of guidance for life. 

According to tradition, Hia, the first human on Nias, passed away but continued to accompany his children through his heart, which was carved out upon his death and preserved in a bottle. 

However, an event resembling the expulsion from Eden occurred amongst his descendants when his daughter-in-law threw the heart into a ditch. 

This act triggered a tempestuous storm and rain that flooded the earth, carrying the heart away to the sea and beyond. Consequently, the human conscience of Nias was lost, leaving humanity to fend for itself until foreigners from beyond the sea would bring it back. 

Indeed, when missionaries eventually arrived in Nias to preach the Gospel, it is said that one of the noblemen remarked that the white man had brought back the heart Nias people had lost.

While the Egyptian heart was weighed against guilt and lies as a means of examination, the Nias heart was a conscience tragically lost to human wickedness and a failure to face up to truth and justice. 

Although these two traditions have nothing to do with each other, as a Nias person confronting these ancient Egyptian beliefs, I cannot help but feel that both are deeply relevant to our contemporary times, in one way or another.

Fertile Ground

 

On my last day in Cagliari, I went for a walk around the Marina area, which is the quarter most exposed to tourists due to its location near the port. 

Having visited Cagliari every year for the past sixteen years, it pains me to witness the slow degradation of this well-known area. Not only is it rundown, but it is also almost entirely devoid of Italian businesses. Even the newspaper stand in the arcade off the Via Roma, where I used to buy the German magazine "Der Spiegel", is no longer there. In its place stands yet another of the countless businesses run by Bangladeshi and other newly arrived immigrants. Where Italian businesses once thrived, the streets are now filled with small shops run by Bangladeshi immigrants and others from Africa. Walking up the Via Ludovico Baylle, I saw perhaps only two or three Italian establishments left.

This stark transformation brought to mind a statement once made by J.D. Vance (to paraphrase, that Europe is dying) and it occurred to me that this rundown and altered area could easily become fertile ground for anti-immigrant sentiment. While I despise Mr Vance and disagree with the assessments made by him and others in the US administration regarding London being crime-ridden, a state of affairs like that in the Marina could well fuel anger against foreigners. 

Of course, I would have liked to see Italian businesses flourishing in the Marina. I enjoy travelling because of my appreciation for different cultures and distinct cities; however, if I wish to experience Bangladeshi or African culture, I would prefer to travel to those countries directly (though, as for Africa, I have unfortunately only managed to visit Malawi, which I loved). Yet, I have a different perspective on this situation. The reality of the Marina demonstrates the remarkable resilience of these Bangladeshi and other immigrants. They surely possess something admirable in their survival kit. The other side of the coin, however, is that younger Italians seem to lack such a kit. If these immigrants can manage it, surely the Italians can too.

In my opinion, this is a matter that needs addressing. I sometimes have the impression that young people are simply too comfortable living with their parents, meaning they feel no immediate need to stock up their own survival kits. However, I fear that the next world wars may be upon us, following the brewing economic malaise we are currently witnessing. When that happens, these comforts will be stripped away, and they will be forced to act. Perhaps it is indeed time for a crisis to arrive and for the existing order, which, in any case, only benefits the wealthy and the baby boomers, to be destroyed, so that a new one may emerge from the ashes. I only wish we could transition to this new order without the necessity of such destruction. 🙏🙏🙏

Smoking

Yesterday afternoon, I went for a drink at a cafe in the nearby Monte Urpinu park. While enjoying my beverage, a young couple, who appeared to be of high school age, took a seat at a neighbouring table, later joined by two others. Though I paid them little attention, I did observe that the girl was Black. I found myself appreciating how well Italians seem to mix with foreigners nowadays. Indeed, I recently noticed that a beachside cafe in Poetto employs several staff members from overseas. This level of integration is entirely new to me, as I had not observed such a development until now.

However, that is not what I set out to write about. 

Not long after the latter two teenagers arrived, I detected a highly familiar scent: cannabis. I recognised it immediately due to an experience last year in London, where I live, when a lady regularly visited our compound to smoke beneath a large tree. Intrigued by the strong odour, I only discovered what it was when a neighbour informed me that it was cannabis. He asked if the smell caused me any discomfort, offering to ask her to stop if it did. Although I assured him I was perfectly fine with it, being merely curious, the lady never returned. I suspect he must have told her not to smoke there regardless; poor lady.

Returning to the situation in Cagliari, I am quite surprised to witness young people smoking cannabis so openly in a public space during the day. I prefer not to speculate, but this is also a novel development here. Having travelled to Cagliari every year for holidays for the past sixteen years, I have never once seen people smoking cannabis in public. It makes me wonder whether this represents a positive or a negative trend, how these young people obtained access to it, and if some new regulation in Italy has prompted this behaviour.

This shift links to a broader worry I have regarding the young people I know here, who seem entirely uninterested in politics. They appear content to simply enjoy life, which ultimately leaves political power in the hands of the same elderly, unchanging group of people. I strongly wish to see the younger generation engage with politics and drive positive change; otherwise, we are left with little choice but to complain about the situation.

The Gift of Being Single?

During our recent holiday, my wife and I met several of her former school and university friends, as well as a few of her cousins. One particular observation struck me by surprise: a significant number of them are single, with very few being married or having a partner. I recall reading somewhere that in Southern European countries, it is highly common for children to leave their parents' home at a very late stage, or even to remain living with them indefinitely. 

My wife once explained that the primary reason young people choose not to start a family, or delay doing so until much later, is the prevailing economic situation. They simply cannot afford to buy a home or support a family when finding a well-paid job is nearly impossible. This difficulty explains why so many Italians have moved abroad; in Italy, securing employment often relies entirely on personal connections, particularly within the civil service.

Yet, I noticed that several of her single friends and cousins are actually quite secure economically. One of her friends, for instance, has her own home inherited from her parents, alongside two other apartments that she rents out. Others work in stable roles as teachers or civil servants. Consequently, the economic argument cannot be the sole explanation.

Could there be another factor at play? I wonder if this phenomenon is linked to what I would call over-parenting, a state where they are over-protected, constantly shielded by parental love, and consequently afraid of facing the harsh realities of the world. Of course, I cannot speculate too deeply on this as I have no way to verify it; it is perhaps more of a prejudice than a solid thesis. Still, I often wonder how so many families of modest means in London manage to raise one or more children. Life in London is remarkably expensive and challenging, yet they start families regardless. Given that these families are predominantly non-European, perhaps the over-parenting theory does indeed have some merit.

Another explanation I recently encountered is the influence of smartphones and social media. Though it is difficult to credit, an article in the *Financial Times* suggested precisely this, pointing out that declining birthrates, rising divorce rates, and widespread singleness have coincided directly with the advent of smartphones. While it remains hard to believe entirely, I increasingly think there may be some truth to it.

There is, however, another dimension to this situation. Many of the friends and cousins we met suffer from depression, a circumstance I find difficult to comprehend. For instance, the friend I mentioned who owns two rental properties, I often think that she should simply enjoy her life, use her money to travel, or perhaps start a charity, which might bring her satisfaction and help remedy her depression. Another one has recently become even wealthier after inheriting a house from her aunt, yet she too suffers from depression. I wish I could help them and bring some joy into their lives.

Reflecting on these issues, I find myself feeling somewhat jealous of the older generation, specifically my wife's parents. They are the beneficiaries of the social system established after World War II. Though they are not rich, they live a decent life supported by the pensions they receive, frequently travelling around the island where they live. They can afford a comfortable, if not luxurious, existence. In contrast, my generation, my wife and I, will not enjoy such comfort in our old age. We will not receive a sufficient pension, meaning we must either work until we die or face an earlier death. Life is so expensive that almost all of our earnings are spent on food, housing, and other essentials, leaving nothing to save for our later years. In the end, the argument comes full circle. Perhaps, after all, it is the economy.