Fragmenti

[Dr Arslanagić]

sa fejsbuk profila Baneta Gajica

 

 

[Indy]

 

British merchant being carried around on a woman's back. West Bengal ca 1903.

[Indy]

[Ryan Franco]

ne znam gde ovo da okačim pa ću smestiti ovde...

 

British Pathé uploads 85,000 historic films to YouTube

 

https://www.youtube.com/user/britishpathe/videos

 

okej, sad vidim da linka ima uveliko i na forumu, a i po društvenim mrežama. kasnim dobrih 12 sati.

Edited April 18, 2014 by McCabe

[Filipenko]

Hvala im za ovo olakšanje pristupa arhivima. Dirljivo je gledati obraćanje kraljice Marije koja iz Londona poziva Jugoslovene na borbu do poslednjeg čoveka.

[Zhota]

moze link?

[hazard]

Burke vs. Paine i desno vs. levo u liberalnom drustvu, interesantno

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Ny_W0sxbQ28

[Dr Arslanagić]

 

 

 

 

Edited April 28, 2014 by Dr Arslanagić

[namenski]

+1 

 

Datum?

[Dr Arslanagić]

ne znam, nažalost. rekao bih druga polovina 80-tih

[namenski]

ne znam, nažalost. rekao bih druga polovina 80-tih

Tipujem na prvu polovinu sedamdesetih, recnik, stil, drustvena problematika   , oprema teksta...

 

Edit: posle onog ustava, kada se zahuktala ONO i DSZ...

Srbijanski dokumenti ove sorte koje sam imao prilike da vidim nisu ni prineti, Hrvatska je u ta vremena bila poprilicno 'budnija' glede dogadjanja sa onom ubacenom grupom, maspokom, itd, itd...

 

Nagadjam naravno.

Edited April 28, 2014 by namenski

[apostata]

Ova njemačka ovčarka zove se Džuljbars

 

 

i nosilac je Ordena za vojne zasluge.

 

Služio je u 14. Jurišno-inženjerskoj brigadi.
Od sept. '44. do augusta '45. pronašao skoro 4,5 hiljade mina i 150 neeksplodiranih granata na teritoriji Čehoslovačke, Rumunije, Austrije i Mađarske.

Učestvovao je u razminiranju zamkova i crkava u Pragu i na obalama Dunava.
Najzaslužniji je za razminiranje groba Tarasa Ševčenka i Saborne crkve sv. Vladimira u Kijevu

Počasni je učesnik Parade pobjede. 
Pošto je bio ranjen pronešen je Crvenim trgom na specijalnim nosilima, čiji je platneni dio napravljen od Staljinovog šinjela, koji je ovaj podario specijalno za tu namjenu.
 

Po Crvenom trgu na rukama ga je nosio podpukovnik Aleksandar Mazorev, glavni kinolog RKKA.

 

Inače RKKA je u VOV-u je koristila čak 70 hiljada pasa (demineri, mineri, diverzanti, vezisti, sanitet, transport ...).

 

Ordenima i medaljama nagrađeno je:

- 31 golub

- 18 pasa

-   3 konja

-   1 mačka

[hazard]

Interesantna teza o transformaciji "mainline" protestanata u Americi u "mainstream" političke liberale (u modernom američkom značenju te reči):

 

http://www.the-american-interest.com/articles/2014/03/17/the-rise-of-secular-religion/

 

 

 

Progressives at prayer

The Rise of Secular Religion

David P. Goldman

 

Today’s secular liberals are the direct descendants of the past century’s Puritans and Protestants, deeply concerned with matters of sin and salvation in the church of politics.

 

Published on March 17, 2014

 

An Anxious Age: The Post-Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of America
by Joseph Bottum
Image Books,  2014, 320 pp., $25

 

Today’s American liberalism, it is often remarked, amounts to a secular religion: it has its own sacred texts and taboos, Crusades and Inquisitions. The political correctness that undergirds it, meanwhile, can be traced back to the past century’s liberal Protestantism. Conservatives, of course, routinely scoff that liberals’ ersatz religion is inferior to the genuine article.

 

Joseph Bottum, by contrast, examines post-Protestant secular religion with empathy, and contends that it gained force and staying power by recasting the old Mainline Protestantism in the form of catechistic worldly categories: anti-racism, anti-gender discrimination, anti-inequality, and so forth. What sustains the heirs of the now-defunct Protestant consensus, he concludes, is a sense of the sacred, but one that seeks the security of personal salvation through assuming the right stance on social and political issues. Precisely because the new secular religion permeates into the pores of everyday life, it sustains the certitude of salvation and a self-perpetuating spiritual aura. Secularism has succeeded on religious terms. That is an uncommon way of understanding the issue, and a powerful one.

 

A devout Catholic, Bottum may be America’s best writer on religion. He surely is the least predictable. A former chief editor of the conservative religious monthly First Things, he shocked many of his former colleagues by arguing in a widely-read essay for Commonweal that the Catholic Church had lost the fight against same-sex marriage and should move on to other things. By this he expressed not a heterodox view of sexuality, but a dour assessment of the Church’s waning influence on social issues. The same somber mood lurks behind the elegant prose of his present volume, which should be read with foreboding if not alarm.

 

America’s consensus culture, Bottum argues, is the unmistakable descendant of the old Protestant Mainline, in particular the “Social Gospel” promulgated by Walter Rauschenbusch before the First World War and adopted by the liberal majority in the Mainline denominations during the 1920s. Although this assertion seems unremarkable at first glance, the method that Bottum brings to bear is entirely original. A deeply religious thinker, he understands spiritual life from the inside. He is less concerned with the outward forms and specific dogmas of religion than with its inner experience, and this approach leads him down paths often inaccessible to secular inquiry. The book should be disturbing not only to its nominal subjects, the “Poster Children” of post-Protestant America, but also to their conservative opposition. The battle is joined on a plane far removed from the quotidian concept of political debate.

 

Bottum writes:

 

We live in a spiritual age, in other words, when we believe ourselves surrounded by social beings of occult and mystic power. When we live with titanic cultural forces contending across the sky, and our moral sense of ourselves— of whether or not we are good people, of whether or not we are saved— takes its cues primarily from our relation to those forces. We live in a spiritual age when the political has been transformed into the soteriological. When how we vote is how our souls are saved.

 

This might easily be misread as a rhetorical swipe at dogmatic liberalism. But Bottum wants us to understand that the inner life of secular Americans remains dense with spiritual experience, and that the post-Protestant experience resembles the supernatural world of the Middle Ages, but with new spiritual entities in place of the old devils and elves: “social and political ideas elevated to the status of strange divinities . . . born of the ancient religious hunger to perceive more in the world than just the give and take of ordinary human beings, but adapted to an age that piously congratulates itself on its escape from many of the strictures of ancient religion.” What Bottum calls the “re-enchantment and spiritual thickening of reality” is the subject of the book. It is an elusive quarry, for it is not a simple task to show that self-styled rationalists entertain a firm belief in the modern equivalent of ghosts and witches. For the post-Protestants, “the social forces of bigotry, power, corruption, mass opinion, militarism, and oppression are the constant themes of history” against which they must array themselves:

 

These horrors have a palpable, almost metaphysical presence in the world. And the post-Protestants believe the best way to know themselves as moral is to define themselves in opposition to such bigotry and oppression— understanding good and evil not primarily in terms of personal behavior but as states of mind about the social condition. Sin, in other words, appears as a social fact, and the redeemed personality becomes confident of its own salvation by being aware of that fact. By knowing about, and rejecting, the evil that darkens society.

 

The desire to be redeemed from sin (redefined as a social fact) identifies the post-Protestants as children of the Puritans. That insight is what makes his new book a new and invaluable contribution to our understanding of America’s frame of mind. Just what is a secular religion, and how does it shape the spiritual lives of its adherents? Bottum deftly peels the layers off the onion of liberal thinking to reveal its Protestant provenance and inherited religious sensibility. The Mainline Protestantism that once bestrode American public life never died, but metamorphosed into a secular doctrine of redemption. And that was made possible by the conversion of sin from a personal to a social fact in Walter Rauschenberg’s version of the social gospel. Bottum writes,  “The new elite class of America is the old one: America’s Mainline Protestant Christians, in both the glory and the annoyingness of their moral confidence and spiritual certainty. They just stripped out the Christianity along the way.” By redefining sin as social sin, Rauschenberg raised up a new Satan and a new vocabulary of redemption from his snares. According to Bottum, his “central demand is to see social evil as really existing evil— a supernatural force of dark magic.” Jesus, Rauschenbusch wrote, “did in a very real sense bear the weight of the public sins of organized society, and they in turn are causally connected with all private sins.”

 

Much of the book is occupied with sketches of Bottum’s “poster children” of post-Protestantism—a psychologist in Oregon, a guitar maker in upstate New York, a gay rights activist from Austin—in whose quirks and eccentricities he detects the “spiritual density” that has made post-Protestantism a religion nearly as stable as its predecessor. The choice of subjects seems a bit arbitrary at first glance, but the common characteristic of the subjects for Bottum’s character sketches is their perpetuation of Protestant attitudes in secular form.

 

“When we recognize their origins in Mainline Protestantism,” Bottum observes, “we can discern some of the ways in which they see the world and themselves. They are, for the most part, politically liberal, preferring that government rather than private associations (such as intact families or the churches they left behind) address social concerns. They remain puritanical and highly judgmental, at least about health, and like all Puritans they are willing to use law to compel behavior they think right.”

 

He contrasts these “poster children” with the young generation of serious Catholics, the “swallows of capistrano” who are returning to the nest. From Bottum’s elegy for the lost Catholic culture of the 1940s and 1950s we grasp most clearly what he means by “metaphysical density,” that is, the fullness of everyday religious life, just what the dry Pietism of Mainline Protestantism replaced with the new Angelology and Demonology of the Social Gospel. In a bravura passage he offers a vivid, visceral description of the Catholic Church before Vatican II:

 

The embroidered arcanery of copes and stoles and albs and chasubles, the rituals of Holy Water blessings, the grottos with their precarious rows of fire-hazard candles flickering away in little red cups, the colored seams and peculiar buttons that identified monsignors, the wimpled school sisters, the tiny Spanish grandmothers muttering prayers in their black mantillas, the First Communion girls wrapped up in white like prepubescent brides, the mumbled Irish prejudices, the loud Italian festivals, the Holy Door indulgences, the pocket guides to scholastic philosophy, the Knights of Columbus with their cocked hats and comic-opera swords, the tinny mission bells, the melismatic chapel choirs— none of this was the Church, some of it actually obscured the Church, and the decision to clear out the mess was not unintelligent or uninformed or unintended. It was merely insane. An entire culture nested in the crossbeams and crannies, the nooks and corners, of the Catholic Church. And it wasn’t until the swallows had been chased away that anyone seemed to realize how much the Church itself needed them, darting around the chapels and flitting through the cathedrals.

 

The Church lost this rich texture in daily life, and the returning “swallows” are hard put to feather their nests. This is a powerful insight, and not only for Catholics. Orthodox Jewish life is spiritually dense with performance of mitzvoth and flourishes in the United States, while the Jewish cognates of liberal Protestantism, the Reform and Conservative movements, lose members at an alarming rate.

 

It is not in doctrine but rather in daily life that we discover how religion shapes society, Bottum argues. Amid the ongoing attenuation of Catholic culture, the broad adoption of Catholic Natural Law doctrine by some conservatives offers cold consolation. Bottum is particularly tough on George W. Bush and his circle. Reviewing the 43^rd President’s Second Inaugural Address, Bottum observes: “The president’s Evangelical supporters may have been reassured by the public religiosity of the occasion— the prayers, the Navy choir singing ‘God of Our Fathers,’ the bowed heads. But the god of the philosophers isn’t much of a god to be going home with. A deistical clockmaker, an impersonal prime mover, a demiurge instead of a redeemer: This is hardly the faith Christian Americans imagine the president shares with them.”

 

Only in passing does Bottum mention the influence of war on American religion. More attention to the external factors that shaped America’s spiritual life would have reinforced his case. America paid for the blood drawn by the lash with 700,000 Civil War deaths. As Louis Menand observes in his 2002 book The Metaphysical Club, the horrific experience of the Boston elite in the Civil War convinced the generation of William James and Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. that no truth was so certain as to justify the slaughter they witnessed in their youth. Did the success of the social gospel stem from the depletion of the Puritans in the Civil War? “The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether,” Lincoln had said; but by the end of the century, the Protestant Mainline preferred to fix the world according to its own preferences.

 

By the same token, the sudden slide of the Mainline from liberal Christianity into post-Protestant secularism occurred when the Mainline’s smug self-assurance crashed against the moral untidiness of the Cold War. Decades later, America’s disenchantment with Iraq and Afghanistan cut conservative Christians off at the knees. A dozen books decried the onset of theocracy during the first Bush Administration. The Left exaggerated the influence of Catholic neoconservatives like natural-law theorist Michael Novak and papal biographer George Weigel. As Bottum wryly counters, “If the neoconservative Catholics among America’s public intellectuals were actually running everything, you’d think they could have managed to steal the 2006 congressional elections that, instead, they lost with a thump.” Nothing fails like failure: The neoconservative Catholics got hammered because the policy they backed came to grief.

 

Neither the Evangelicals nor the Catholics, either separately or in their uneasy, occasional alliances, had the wherewithal to replace the post-Protestant center at the peak of its cultural authority, Bottum argues, and both now are on the defensive as a wayward millennial generation progresses into adulthood. Is that because whatever holds together the Mainline’s remnants is too strong, or because they bet the church on Bush’s Freedom Agenda? Bottum leaves the question unanswered.

 

Sa amazona:

 

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0385518811/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0385518811&linkCode=as2&tag=pjmedia-20

 

 

 

We live in a profoundly spiritual age--but in a very strange way, different from every other moment of our history. Huge swaths of American culture are driven by manic spiritual anxiety and relentless supernatural worry. Radicals and traditionalists, liberals and conservatives, together with politicians, artists, environmentalists, followers of food fads, and the chattering classes of television commentators: America is filled with people frantically seeking confirmation of their own essential goodness. We are a nation desperate to stand on the side of morality--to know that we are righteous and dwell in the light.

Or so Joseph Bottum argues in An Anxious Age, an account of modern America as a morality tale, formed by its spiritual disturbances. And the cause, he claims, is the most significant and least noticed historical fact of the last fifty years: the collapse of the Mainline Protestant churches that were the source of social consensus and cultural unity. Our dangerous spiritual anxieties, broken loose from the churches that once contained them, now madden everything in American life.

Updating The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, Max Weber's sociological classic, An Anxious Age undertakes two case studies in contemporary social class, adrift in a nation without the religious understandings that gave it meaning. Looking at the college-educated elite he calls "The Poster Children," Bottum sees the post-Protestant heirs of the old Mainline Protestant domination of culture: dutiful descendants who claim the high social position of their Christian ancestors even while they reject their ancestors' Christianity. Turning to "The Swallows of Capistrano," the Catholics formed by the pontificate of John Paul II, Bottum evaluates the early victories--and later defeats--of the attempt to substitute Catholicism for the dying Mainline voice in public life.

Sweeping across American intellectual and cultural history, An Anxious Age traces the course of national religion and warns about the strange angels and even stranger demons with which we now wrestle. Insightful and contrarian, wise and unexpected, An Anxious Age ranks among the great modern accounts of American culture.

Praise for Joseph Bottum and An Anxious Age:

 "An Anxious Age is bound to be viewed as a classic of American sociology--not only because of its vast knowledge of historical facts and personalities, its depth and multiple layers of meaning, but also because of its literary elegance and imaginative structure. Bottum offers a wholly new way of understanding religion in public life today. The magical trick Bottum works when he asks 'Where did the Protestant ethic go?' is nearly breathtaking." --Michael Novak

"A poet and critic and essayist with a sideline in history and philosophy," Joseph Bottum is attempting "to wrench the true complexity of faith back from the complexity-destroying context of contemporary political debates." --New York Times

 

 

Q&A with Joseph Bottum

Q. How did you come up with the idea for An Anxious Age?

In some ways, An Anxious Age really began when I was sent out to report on the protestors at Occupy Wall Street—and couldn’t finish the assignment. I could feel a spiritual anxiety about modern civilization radiating from nearly all of them, but I could find no easy way to explain it.

Now, two years later, this book is my answer: Not just those protestors, but nearly everyone today is driven by supernatural concerns, however much or little they realize it. Radicals and traditionalists, liberals and conservatives—together with politicians, artists, environmentalists, followers of food fads, and the chattering classes of television commentators: America is filled with people frantically seeking confirmation of their own essential goodness. We are a nation of individuals desperate to stand on the side of morality—anxious to know that we are righteous and dwell in the light.

The trouble, of course, is that we’ve lost any shared cultural notion of what exactly that goodness might entail.

 

Q. The crux of the book is your claim that the most significant and underappreciated fact about all of contemporary America is the collapse of the Mainline Protestant churches over the last fifty years. How did you come to view the decline of Mainline Protestantism as such an influential factor in the shaping of America’s cultural landscape?

The reasons for the Mainline churches’ decline are interesting in themselves. Science, capitalism, liberal Protestant religion, the bureaucratic needs of rising nation states—all those changes that Max Weber called the “elective affinities” that created the modern world—resulted in a pretty thin metaphysical order. By the late 1800s, most educated Americans probably had no strong belief in any supernatural entities beyond the bare Christian minimum of the individual soul, below, and God, above.

Maybe as a result, a hunger for a thicker world, for a supernatural infusion, is written across America in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries—from the table-rapping ghosts heard by spiritualists in the 1840s to the popularizing of the Ouija board in the 1910s, and on to our own time. Denied much sustenance in the central rooms of American religion, this spiritual hunger would eventually drain the Mainline churches down to their present cultural weakness.

And here’s where it really starts to get interesting. Because American history has led us to expect our national spirituality to be explicitly religious, tied to the nation’s churches, we often fail to recognize other effects as spiritual. But strange beings were set free to enter the social and political realms by the decay of the churches that were once a primary source of the cultural unity and social manners that we now lack in the United States.

I’ve gone back more than a century to Max Weber’s classic sociological study The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism to resurrect the notion of “spiritual anxiety”—in an effort to explain what escaped into the public life with the collapse of Mainline Protestantism. What once were religious concerns have fled the churches to become political and social agitations. And across the nation, in liberals and conservatives alike, there lurks a disturbing sense that how we vote is how our souls are saved.

Our dangerous spiritual anxieties, in other words, have broken loose from the churches that used to contain them, and they now madden everything in American life. These new supernatural entities—or, at least, these new social and political manifestations of the enduring human desire to perceive something supernatural in the world—seem to me omnipresent. Think of our willingness to believe that our political opponents are not just wrong but actually evil. Think of the ways we talk about food, weight, and cigarettes, the way we use such concepts as gender, race, and the environment.

In politics, culture, art—in everything, spirits and demons, angels and demigods, flitter through American public life, ferrying back and forth across our social and political interactions the burdens of our spiritual anxieties.

 

Q. What do you hope to accomplish with the book? What do you hope readers will glean from it?

I hope that An Anxious Age will remind the social groups I called the post-Protestant Poster Children and the Catholic Swallows of Capistrano—will remind, in fact, all Americans—that we are not as far from the traditional forms of American history as we sometimes imagine ourselves. Spiritual concerns still motivate us, and our historical situation is still set by the condition of American Protestantism at any given moment.

More, I would like readers to see that Max Weber’s kind of sociological awareness of spiritual causes gives a fuller account of human culture than Karl Marx’s hard materialism. Purely material causes (economics, geography, even genetics, as some argue) undoubtedly have strong effects, but the spiritual anxieties of an age, together with the available spiritual rewards, have at least as much influence—and probably more—on the political, moral, and intellectual culture of a society.

[Dr Arslanagić]

http://youtu.be/UqKsFHMcpk8

[Кристофер Лумумбо]

jel bilo ovo?