Luciano Duarte | Literature and philosophy

Chinese and Vanity

I have been a neighbor of a Chinese family’s for almost a decade. For this reason, I had the opportunity to meet and talk to more than a dozen of them. And recently, for no apparent reason, I began to articulate: it seems to me — I may well be mistaken… — that the Chinese, as a rule, is less vain than the Westerner. Deepening my investigation, I found that in China there is not, for example, political debate. Oh, look at that! I always thought that a world without political debates would be less rough and that, summarily, every debate of ideas is, rather, a war between vanity. And ordinary Chinese feel no need to see debaters vying for intelligence, proving to the public the wisdom of their own ideas! And ordinary Chinese do not turn on the radio to hear the political commentator say, “I have the best analysis!”, or to hear the economic commentator predict, “Such a measure will fail!”. Ordinary Chinese, it seems to me, makes taking care of their own life; and China, it seems to me, is hardly going to burst into debates, controversies, seeing hatred shed anywhere one looks, with its citizens in a fight, aggressive with each other, almost killing themselves by stupid personal opinions on issues that, not enough the ignorance, they do not keep them the slightest possibility of effective action. For a moment, I find ordinary Chinese superior to the greatest of our scholars.

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The Sopranos, by David Chase

I lost, some time ago, the habit of the series. But I know that if for some reason I feel the nostalgia of the hours spent in front of the screen, even submerged in a sea of recent and acclaimed options, I will choose to review — again… — The Sopranos, by David Chase. And why is that? Because this series, among all, exhibits the most complex and thought-provoking psychological constructions I have ever had the opportunity to watch. Intelligent, ambiguous characters, agitated by strongly internal conflicts and represented in fantastic performances. Nothing better is up to me to expect from a series…

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Poisonous Ideas

I have some very poisonous ideas, for example, this: I will only reach fullness on the day I cannot say the name of my country’s president. I confess, I have worked hard: I no longer read any news, I have not turned on a television in years, I cannot tell who won the Champions League and other exploits. But I know that fullness, peace of mind and wisdom will only come on the day one ask me: Who have you voted for senator? What do you think of the new bill? What did you think of the new ministerial composition? And for all these I do not answer except with a sarcastic smile on my face.

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Man’s Search for Meaning, by Viktor Frankl

I hate the widespread idea that the man is just a dog. I see it all the time: whether it is the guy who thinks hunger is man’s main problem or psychology that ties to instincts and never goes beyond instincts. Well, a genius is born — and we need geniuses to tell us the obvious… — and says the following: there is in the human being a spiritual dimension that defines and transcends it. And the genius, named Viktor Frankl, had to prove in the flesh the validity of the theory itself, enduring the terrible atrocities of various Nazi concentration camps and maintaining sanity. I mean, the animal pulsates on us, but there’s something nobler. Below is an excerpt from the book:

A human being is not one thing among others; things determine each other, but man is ultimately self-determining. What he becomes — within the limits of endowment and environment — he has made out of himself. In the concentration camps, for example, in this living laboratory and on this testing ground, we watched and witnessed some of our comrades behave like swine while others behaved like saints. Man has both potentialities within himself; which one is actualized depends on decisions but not on conditions.

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