来源 :云网支付网 2019-12-13 09:07:06|刘伯温马报资料



  Many writers have earned prison time as well as prizes; the Nobel laureates Liu Xiaobo and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn come immediately to mind. But there seems to be no precedent for what happened in Australia last week, when an author named Behrouz Boochani won the country’s most valuable literary prize, the Victorian Prize for Literature, but was unable to collect his stipend in person. The same nation praising him is also keeping him in indefinite detention on a small island in the Pacific.

  Mr. Boochani is a journalist of Kurdish heritage from Iran who fled the country in 2012 when the pro-Kurdish newspaper he worked for was raided by the Iranian government. He escaped to Indonesia and then, in 2013, attempted to seek asylum in Australia via boat. For the past five years, along with 700 or so other inmates, he has lived on Manus Island in Papua New Guinea. His is a prison sentence without an end date: Australia refuses to accept asylees attempting arrival via boat, even if they attain refugee status, and Iran rejects forcible repatriation of these individuals.

  Mr. Boochani has continued his journalism in the Australian immigration detention system, detailing the circumstances of its inmates in publications like The Guardian and The Saturday Paper. He also shot an award-winning documentary, “Chauka, Please Tell Us the Time,” using a smuggled mobile phone.

  But he has found that the malicious vagaries of the offshore prisons, like the one that has become his home, have defeated standard reporting. “The language of journalism has never been strong enough or critical enough to describe the suffering on Manus island and Nauru,” he told me this week via WhatsApp from Manus. “The language used by journalists cannot expose this complicated system. I have always tried to create a new language by using different forms of critical literary language.”

  That new language is on full display in his prizewinning book, “No Friend but the Mountains” — a work that encompasses, among other things, a novel, a poem, a testimony, a psychoanalytic tract and a political pamphlet. He wrote the book entirely via WhatsApp in messages sent to his translator and friend based in Sydney and Cairo, Omid Tofighian.

  The book is so unusual that Mr. Tofighian says it is a “non-genre,” and the author and translator have agreed on the umbrella term “horrific surrealism” to cover it. The award, which Mr. Tofighian accepted on Mr. Boochani’s behalf, is a piece of that horrific surrealism. “The Victorian state government is giving him this award, and the prize money,” Mr. Tofighian told me, “and at the same time, the federal government won’t allow him into the country and is basically torturing him. Keeping him in prison indefinitely. The paradoxes are almost incomprehensible.”

  Mr. Boochani says he has a “paradoxical feeling” about the prize. “I really don’t know what to say,” he texted me. “I certainly did not write this book just to win an award. My main aim has always been for the people in Australia and around the world to understand deeply how this system has tortured innocent people on Manus and Nauru in a systematic way for almost six years. I hope this award will bring more attention to our situation and create change and end this barbaric policy.”

  Mr. Tofighian believes the implications are deeper than policy. “What Behrouz wants to challenge with his book — and I think he’s achieving that — is the ideology that drives all perceptions of refugees on all sides of politics, that these people are needy, passive and only looking for a helping hand,” he said. “He thinks ‘the problem I have faced in all of my work and all of my resistance is people only see me as a refugee. Not as a thinker, not as a knowledge producer, not as a creative.’ And I think the book and the reward have really disrupted that.”

  The policies they are challenging are not easily shifted. Among the Australian political class, there is a bipartisan, almost talismanic belief that governmental authority comes from a “strong” maritime border. The prime minister, Scott Morrison, invokes his time as minister for immigration as his chief qualification for office. This display is quite literal: On his desk is a model of a refugee boat with the legend “I Stopped These” written across it. Because members of the center-left Australian Labor Party support these measures as well — their moral qualms may keep them up at night, but in the morning they do the same thing — Australian writers, artists and intellectuals have formed some of the most vociferous opposition to the nation’s architecture of offshore immigration detention.

  They have variously invoked compassion, shame, exposure and a liberal humanist tradition centered on the concept of storytelling. Storytelling promotes empathy, our country’s most celebrated artists insist. It shines a light. It transmits truth.

  Except after more than 20 years of mandatory detention, on- and offshore, and the speeches, plays, books, performances, artworks and protests arrayed against it, the situation has not budged. Art and artists can hardly be blamed for this state of affairs, but it is difficult to square crowd-pleasing writers’ festival speeches about how much writing matters with how little it has achieved so far.

  “Over the almost six years we have been exiled here, I have seen many artists, writers and journalists make work based around attempts to grow empathy among non-refugees in Australia,” Mr. Boochani said. “Nothing changes because in the end the complexities of the structures of domination and oppression remain unchallenged.” Empathy trips over an “unacknowledged layer of power.”

  His book is a kind of counterproposal to this method, a form that is liberated in itself. What he calls “curiosity for a new life” — building relationships with the local Manusian people; cultivating his freedom of mind even as his body is captive — has helped him survive. Something similar has happened to the other refugees. “They have changed so much — they have transfigured into different beings,“ he said in an interview included in the book. “This has occurred for everyone. The process has been unsettling and vexed, and some have become totally cynical and pessimistic of the world and life. But in any case, all of them are unique in their own special way; they have become distinctly creative, they have unprecedented creative capacities. And in my view, this is incredible, it is phenomenal to witness.”

  “On its own, the award will do nothing, absolutely nothing,” Mr. Tofighian said. “But it has opened a crack. There is a collective movement, and we can use that crack to tear things apart. I think something can happen. Hope remains with this kind of event.” Perhaps. So far the Australian government has acknowledged Mr. Boochani’s win with only an embarrassed silence.

  Richard Cooke (@rgcooke) is the author of a forthcoming book about America, “Tired of Winning.”



  刘伯温马报资料【乌】【龙】【江】【宛】【如】【一】【条】【银】【带】,【是】【新】【泽】【州】【和】【毛】【秋】【市】【两】【个】【区】【域】【的】【天】【然】【分】【界】【线】,【其】【两】【旁】【栽】【植】【着】【各】【种】【郁】【郁】【葱】【葱】【的】【堤】【防】【树】【木】,【也】【形】【成】【了】【一】【些】【景】【色】【优】【美】【的】【风】【景】【区】,【经】【常】【会】【有】【两】【地】【居】【民】【前】【来】【这】【些】【风】【景】【区】【游】【玩】【踏】【青】。【在】【乌】【龙】【江】【南】【新】【泽】【州】【区】【域】【有】【一】【处】【风】【景】【区】,【更】【被】【开】【发】【成】【了】【水】【上】【乐】【园】,【到】【了】【节】【假】【日】,【这】【里】【便】【成】【了】【孩】【子】【们】【欢】【乐】【的】【海】【洋】。 【乐】【晨】【现】【在】,

  “【找】【青】【栀】?” 【在】【场】【的】【人】【都】【微】【微】【一】【呆】,【脸】【色】【古】【怪】【地】【看】【着】【李】【天】,【眼】【睛】【微】【眯】【了】【下】【来】。 “【呵】【呵】,【这】【可】【是】【我】【见】【过】【最】【狂】【妄】【的】【新】【生】【了】,【刚】【来】【竟】【然】【就】【说】【陈】【秋】【娜】【不】【行】,【还】【要】【直】【接】【挑】【战】【青】【栀】,【不】【说】【我】【还】【不】【知】【道】【这】【是】【一】【个】【化】【神】【境】【的】【家】【伙】,【还】【以】【为】【是】【血】【皇】【太】【子】【明】【月】【独】【辰】【来】【了】【呢】。” 【有】【人】【不】【禁】【笑】【道】,【连】【连】【摇】【头】,【一】【脸】【可】【笑】【地】【看】【着】【李】【天】。


  【没】【有】【想】【到】【他】【刚】【向】【范】【冰】【晶】【汇】【报】【完】,【阿】【九】【和】【伍】【天】【就】【来】【了】。 【见】【到】【阿】【九】,【伍】【天】【和】【黄】【柱】【子】【似】【乎】【有】【话】【要】【说】,【范】【冰】【晶】【就】【没】【有】【留】【在】【原】【地】,【只】【是】【淡】【淡】【的】【吩】【咐】【了】【一】【句】,“【你】【们】【的】【事】【情】【弄】【清】【楚】【了】【之】【后】,【就】【回】【酒】【店】【找】【我】。” 【说】【完】,【她】【就】【和】【亚】【森】【离】【开】【了】。 【范】【冰】【晶】【一】【走】,【黄】【柱】【子】【就】【开】【始】【质】【问】【阿】【九】,“【喂】,【阿】【九】,【伍】【天】,【你】【们】【的】【手】【机】【是】【坏】【了】【还】

  【见】【紫】【风】【魔】【退】【避】,【墨】【天】【微】【这】【才】【松】【了】【口】【气】。 【在】【经】【历】【过】【暗】【夜】【魔】【的】【那】【一】【战】【之】【后】,【她】【知】【道】【自】【己】【现】【在】【的】【实】【力】【还】【是】【太】【弱】,【遇】【到】【的】【敌】【人】【修】【为】【大】【多】【都】【会】【比】【她】【高】,【在】【正】【面】【对】【决】【中】【她】【很】【难】【取】【胜】,【此】【时】【就】【不】【得】【不】【用】【些】【旁】【门】【左】【道】【了】。 【在】【昆】【邪】【碎】【片】【时】,【墨】【天】【微】【除】【了】【寻】【找】【战】【队】【加】【入】,【还】【买】【了】【不】【少】【东】【西】——【这】【里】【特】【别】【鸣】【谢】【暗】【夜】【魔】【提】【供】【的】【经】【济】【支】【持】——刘伯温马报资料(【实】【在】【对】【不】【起】【各】【位】【读】【者】,【手】【骨】【折】【了】【打】【字】【缓】【慢】,【我】【十】【点】【多】【下】【课】【洗】【漱】【就】【到】【现】【在】【了】,【已】【经】【月】【底】【断】【更】【一】【次】【少】【了】【一】【次】【全】【勤】,【这】【次】【实】【在】【不】【想】【了】。 【我】【可】【能】【未】【来】【还】【会】【做】【几】【次】【发】【别】【的】【文】【先】【发】【够】【四】【千】【字】【保】【住】【全】【勤】【的】【事】,【放】【心】【我】【会】【立】【刻】【补】【上】【的】。 【实】【在】【非】【常】【抱】【歉】,【手】【骨】【折】【码】【字】【太】【慢】,【只】【能】【出】【此】【下】【策】【了】,【最】【迟】【第】【二】【天】【也】【会】【补】【上】【的】,【刷】【新】【一】【下】【就】

  【只】【是】【铭】【这】【会】【的】【热】【情】【却】【是】【媚】【眼】【抛】【给】【瞎】【子】【看】,【包】【括】【坚】【在】【内】【的】【一】【众】【浦】【西】【部】【落】【的】【人】【这】【会】【都】【无】【心】【注】【意】【他】【的】【态】【度】,【而】【是】【将】【目】【光】【落】【到】【慧】【身】【上】。 【倒】【是】【烈】,【皱】【眉】【看】【了】【一】【眼】【那】【些】【残】【疾】【的】【族】【人】,【开】【口】【对】【慧】【问】【道】:“【一】【下】【子】【治】【疗】【这】【么】【多】【人】【会】【不】【会】【吃】【力】?【要】【不】【要】【分】【几】【次】【来】?” 【铭】【也】【回】【过】【神】【来】【了】,【连】【连】【点】【头】【道】:“【对】【对】【对】,【可】【不】【能】【勉】【强】。”

  【北】【境】【的】【初】【春】,【风】【刮】【在】【身】【上】【还】【是】【冷】【得】【要】【命】,【而】【她】【们】【两】【个】【小】【姑】【娘】【却】【只】【穿】【着】【破】【旧】【不】【堪】【的】【单】【薄】【衣】【服】,【光】【着】【脚】【丫】【低】【着】【头】【静】【静】【地】【等】【待】【着】【命】【运】【给】【她】【们】【最】【后】【的】【安】【排】。 【朱】【宥】【看】【不】【下】【去】,【走】【上】【前】【问】:“【你】【们】【的】【父】【母】【呢】?” 【两】【个】【小】【姑】【娘】【齐】【刷】【刷】【的】【抬】【起】【头】【来】,【朱】【宥】【这】【才】【发】【现】【二】【人】【像】【是】【用】【一】【个】【模】【子】【刻】【出】【的】,【竟】【生】【的】【一】【模】【一】【样】,【是】【孪】【生】【姐】【妹】。

  【一】【般】【而】【言】,【同】【系】【数】【的】【咒】【术】【互】【相】【碰】【撞】【时】,【结】【果】【往】【往】【不】【是】【互】【相】【抵】【消】,【而】【是】【威】【力】【大】【的】【一】【方】【吸】【收】【威】【力】【小】【的】【一】【方】,【既】【瓦】【解】【了】【对】【方】【的】【咒】【术】,【又】【增】【强】【了】【自】【身】【的】【咒】【术】,【导】【致】【绝】【对】【的】【优】【势】【出】【现】。 【比】【如】,【同】【为】【不】【动】【明】【王】【系】【的】【咒】【术】,【当】〈【火】【界】【咒】〉【与】〈【火】【界】【咒】〉【互】【相】【碰】【撞】【时】,【威】【力】【大】【的】【一】【方】【就】【会】【吸】【收】【掉】【威】【力】【小】【的】【一】【方】。 【就】【算】【不】【是】【相】【同】【的】【咒】

  “【别】【过】【来】!” 【一】【声】【呵】【斥】【在】【灰】【袍】【人】【的】【小】【世】【界】【中】【回】【荡】【开】【来】。 【苏】【雨】【猛】【地】【停】【下】【身】【形】,【抬】【眸】【看】【去】,【只】【见】【那】【个】【瘦】【小】【的】【老】【人】【踉】【跄】【站】【起】,【身】【躯】【摇】【晃】【了】【一】【下】,【而】**【住】【染】【上】【了】【血】【迹】【的】【永】【夜】【双】【月】。 【楚】【无】【梦】【回】【头】【看】【了】【苏】【雨】【一】【眼】,【半】【张】【脸】【血】【肉】【模】【糊】,【嗓】【音】【却】【很】【是】【平】【静】:“【胜】【负】【未】【分】,【你】【小】【子】【瞎】【掺】【和】【什】【么】?” 【苏】【雨】【抿】【着】【嘴】,【眼】【眶】【逐】【渐】

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