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Chéjov adelantó lo que sería la devastación del mundo: De Tavira

La CNT presenta en Bellas Artes dos funciones de El jardín de los cerezos, obra del autor ruso

La puesta en escena refleja un cambio que preconiza la elevación del dinero a un valor
absoluto, dice el director de la compañía. Plantea reconstruir un nuevo idealismo o
precipitarnos al nihilismo

CARLOS PAUL http://www.jornada.unam.mx/2011/01/27/index.php?section=cultura&article=a03n1cul

Periódico La Jornada Jueves 27 de enero de 2011, p. 3

Símbolo del derrumbe de un modo de vida que no se adapta a las nuevas circunstancias, la obra
El jardín de los cerezos, escrita en 1903 por Anton Chéjov, cobra actual relevancia al reflejar
también un cambio que preconiza la elevación del dinero a un valor absoluto, considera Luis de
Tavira.

En charla con La Jornada, el director de la Compañía Nacional de Teatro (CNT), agrupación


que presenta la obra de Chéjov hoy y el sábado 29 en el Palacio de Bellas Artes, explica que
ante el vacío y el fracaso de los idealismos anteriores lo que (hoy día) se impone es el mercado,
la voracidad de los especuladores, donde lo que importa es ver cómo toda aspiración humana se
ve subordinada al interés económico, convertido en el valor absoluto, así destruyamos al
mundo.

En El jardín de los cerezos, obra con la que Chéjov concluyó su producción teatral, pues murió
pocos meses después del estreno, la historia se centra en una familia de terratenientes,
representantes de la antigua aristocracia rusa, que se ve en problemas económicos y sin
embargo no se preocupa por mejorar o recuperar lo que está a punto de perder: el huerto de los
cerezos.

La familia pierde sus propiedades a manos de la nueva burguesía, la cual a pesar de sí misma,
llega a desplazarlos dentro de la estructura social, aunque la antigua aristocracia se niegue a
aceptar esa circunstancia.

Se trata de una obra que refleja el fin de una época y el comienzo de otra. El mundo
reaccionario de la clase aristocrática, estudiantes incapaces de llevar a la acción sus palabras y
ex esclavos que rechazan ser liberados, son avasallados por los tiempos que cambian sin que
ellos lo perciban, entre la indolencia y el vacío, entre la ilusoria felicidad de los deseos y la
contundencia de los hechos.

Según Luis de Tavira, la pieza de Chéjov es una obra que se adelanta a la conciencia de la
devastación ecológica, a la irrupción del mundo industrial al servicio del mercado y éste al
servicio de la voracidad del dinero, lo que ha llevado a devastar el mundo, porque hemos
olvidado ese amor mutuo, esa relación del ser humano con la naturaleza, y que es simbolizado
por el jardín.
Señores y siervos

La obra de Anton Chéjov requiere del espectador contemporáneo, una cierta disposición,
manifiesta Luis de Tavira.

El reto aspira a alcanzar la intimidad de los personajes, pues la acción transcurre a lo largo de
cuatro actos que van del inicio de la primavera al comienzo del invierno, en el bosque de una
finca inmerso en el paisaje de la vasta Rusia. El espectador debe ir dispuesto a morar y
demorarse para alcanzar la dimensión de la vida que ofrece el teatro.

Anton Chéjov nos invita a demorarnos en el devenir de la vida cotidiana, aunque en medio de
esa trama realista, el simbolismo irrumpe de diversas maneras, en forma de sonido (del que
nadie puede explicar su procedencia) de una cuerda que se rompe o cuando se discute sobre la
inutilidad del jardín, porque nadie utiliza las cerezas para ganar dinero, así que la cosecha se
pudre.

Ahí el viejo mayordomo es símbolo del agotamiento y fin de un mundo, pues recuerda que las
cerezas eran objeto de cultivo para aprovechar sus frutos deliciosos. Lo que también simboliza
que ya no hay armonía con la naturaleza.

Por otra parte, el comerciante, abunda Luis de Tavira, “es el hombre capaz de aprovechar las
transformaciones económicas y sociales, en un mundo en el que sólo hay señores y siervos,
pero al mismo tiempo es un hombre incapaz de entregarse al amor, porque está entregado al
negocio.

Ello es parte de esa situación en la que el utilitarismo se encuentra al servicio de las cosas que
antes no tenían más valor que ser ellas mismas, para convertirlas en mercancía y ponerles
entonces un precio de intercambio, lo que al final de cuentas ha perturbado las relaciones del
hombre con el mundo.

El jardín de los cerezos no es un melodrama, sino una obra realista que se articula más por
metonimias que por metáforas, es decir, por elementos mínimos capaces de contener el todo.
Aquí, el realismo se lleva a una encrucijada donde hay un dilema: o seremos capaces de
reconstruir un nuevo idealismo o nos precipitamos en el abismo del nihilismo.

Chéjov, con su dramaturgia, concluye De Tavira, propone un teatro de lo no dicho en lo dicho,


por lo que actoralmente el reto es que los actores tienen que interpretar o componer lo no dicho.

Con duración de cuatro horas y tres intermedios, El jardín de los cerezos se presenta hoy y el
sábado 29, a las 19 y 18 horas, respectivamente, en el Palacio de Bellas Artes (avenida Juárez,
esquina Eje Central, Centro).

Después tendrá temporada del 10 de febrero al 6 de marzo en el Teatro de las Artes del Centro
Nacional de las Artes (avenida Río Churubusco, esquina Tlalpan), de miércoles a domingo.
Robert Fisk: A new truth dawns on the Arab world

Leaked Palestinian files have put a region in revolutionary mood

Wednesday, 26 January 2011

The Palestine Papers are as damning as the Balfour Declaration. The Palestinian "Authority" –
one has to put this word in quotation marks – was prepared, and is prepared to give up the
"right of return" of perhaps seven million refugees to what is now Israel for a "state" that may
be only 10 per cent (at most) of British mandate Palestine.

And as these dreadful papers are revealed, the Egyptian people are calling for the downfall of
President Mubarak, and the Lebanese are appointing a prime minister who will supply the
Hezbollah. Rarely has the Arab world seen anything like this.

To start with the Palestine Papers, it is clear that the representatives of the Palestinian people
were ready to destroy any hope of the refugees going home.

It will be – and is – an outrage for the Palestinians to learn how their representatives have
turned their backs on them. There is no way in which, in the light of the Palestine Papers, these
people can believe in their own rights.

They have seen on film and on paper that they will not go back. But across the Arab world –
and this does not mean the Muslim world – there is now an understanding of truth that there has
not been before.

It is not possible any more, for the people of the Arab world to lie to each other. The lies are
finished. The words of their leaders – which are, unfortunately, our own words – have finished.
It is we who have led them into this demise. It is we who have told them these lies. And we
cannot recreate them any more.

In Egypt, we British loved democracy. We encouraged democracy in Egypt – until the


Egyptians decided that they wanted an end to the monarchy. Then we put them in prison. Then
we wanted more democracy. It was the same old story. Just as we wanted Palestinians to enjoy
democracy, providing they voted for the right people, we wanted the Egyptians to love our
democratic life. Now, in Lebanon, it appears that Lebanese "democracy" must take its place.
And we don't like it.

We want the Lebanese, of course, to support the people who we love, the Sunni Muslim
supporters of Rafiq Hariri, whose assassination – we rightly believe – was orchestrated by the
Syrians. And now we have, on the streets of Beirut, the burning of cars and the violence against
government.
And so where are we going? Could it be, perhaps, that the Arab world is going to choose its
own leaders? Could it be that we are going to see a new Arab world which is not controlled by
the West? When Tunisia announced that it was free, Mrs Hillary Clinton was silent. It was the
crackpot President of Iran who said that he was happy to see a free country. Why was this?

In Egypt, the future of Hosni Mubarak looks ever more distressing. His son, may well be his
chosen successor. But there is only one Caliphate in the Muslim world, and that is Syria.
Hosni's son is not the man who Egyptians want. He is a lightweight businessman who may – or
may not – be able to rescue Egypt from its own corruption.

Hosni Mubarak's security commander, a certain Mr Suleiman who is very ill, may not be the
man. And all the while, across the Middle East, we are waiting to see the downfall of America's
friends. In Egypt, Mr Mubarak must be wondering where he flies to. In Lebanon, America's
friends are collapsing. This is the end of the Democrats' world in the Arab Middle East. We do
not know what comes next. Perhaps only history can answer this question.

Like Robert Fisk on The Independent on Facebook for updates

___________________

Robert Fisk: Some people will do anything to avoid blame

Saturday, 15 January 2011

I am no happy reader of Canada's National Post, but am driven to report to you that a recent
graph in the paper suggests that "the term 'Palestinian' became popularised as a marker of
identity after the Six Day War of 1967".

Since Jordan had long ago annexed the Arab West Bank and since Israeli prime minister Golda
Meir once claimed that Palestinians did not exist, I guess that makes sense. But it does seem a
bit much that we get to recognise a Middle Eastern people only when the victims have been
occupied by someone else's army. After all, we recognised the French for centuries before the
1870 Franco-Prussian war. And while it might be said that the Goths, Ostrogoths and Visigoths
didn't get much of a look-in until the Romans invaded Germania, no one in Italy doubted that
Gauls existed before Vercingetorix.

But wait. The National Post, another journalistic flagship for the Israeli state in a foreign land,
doesn't quite say what it appears to say.

The term Palestinian, you will notice, wasn't "recognised" after 1967. It was "popularised". And
it was "popularised" not as a "national identity" but as a "marker of identity". This may be due
to the ignorance of what is to be found on Google (whence the paper appears to have sucked
this tosh) or to its own gutlessness. But you get the point. After 1967, the Palestinians came to
be "popularised" as Palestinians in the same way, I suppose, as Walt Disney "popularised"
Mickey Mouse. Of course, being "popularised" didn't make him real. It's a new way of using
language – not to manipulate in order to lie, but to hide behind it in order to avoid personal
responsibility or say things which may provoke others to call you racist, anti-Semitic,
uncultured or, an old favourite of mine, "pre-judgemental".

Indeed, as your Middle East correspondent swoops around the world, trying to write reports in
decent English, I bring you other bad news from the snowy wastes of urban Canada. I have, for
example, just opened my copy of the Toronto Star to discover how a city police officer – a
certain Detective Paul Lentsch, whose name must surely now become indispensable to all
semanticists – wanted to express his feelings about a probable arson attack. A resident of the
burnt-out building, the paper suggested, may have been involved in contract killings in the US.
But here comes Detective Lentsch's arrival in linguistic history. "We've put a lot of time into
this house this month," he announced. "It's concerning." It's what? Let's have that again. IT'S
CONCERNING. Well, blow me down. I always thought to "concern" was a transitive verb that
took a plain old-fashioned object. But what is the object here? "It" – ie the burnt-out house – or
the reader who perhaps should be "concerned"? But certainly not Detective Lentsch. If he had
any feelings on the matter, he would surely have said "I am concerned", although even that
might be regarded as a somewhat mild reaction to an arson attack. But nope, our favourite
detective simply didn't want to express a personal opinion about crime.

Same goes, incredibly, for the Toronto Star's music critic when it comes to, well, music.
Murray Perahia's performance of Brahms's piano music on CD is greeted by critic John
Terauds with these words: "Veteran American pianist Murray Perahia compels with crisp,
purposeful playing." Yes, but what is he "compelling", for God's sake? Again, to "compel" is a
transitive verb. It needs an object. Is it us who are "compelled"? Or Mr Terauds? More likely,
Mr Terauds doesn't want to commit himself. No personal views please.

And since corrupted English travels west to east across the Atlantic, let's take a look at the
Quebec government's "family minister" Yolande James, who has just banned religious
instruction in child daycare centres. Christmas trees are OK, even nativity scenes – providing
the kids aren't told the identity of the baby in the manger. Bing Crosby is OK. "Silent Night" is
not. Canadian Jews and Muslims are equally offended.

But hark to Ms James's message. "All questions touching the transmission (sic) of faith – that
is, teaching religion itself – do not belong (sic) within the publicly funded daycare system."

Ho hum. Religion, it seems, is something that can be passed on, caught, a disease that might
infect others. The transmission of Aids, for example, certainly doesn't belong to daycare
centres. But religion? And note the "belong". This "transmission" cannot "belong" because it
might become a part of school. Culture's great. God's out. But I loved the fact that Ms James
was so conscious of her own gobbledegook that she had to explain that "transmission of faith"
actually meant "teaching religion". Call Detective Lentsch at once.

But there's no stopping this stuff. Prince Edward Island, hitherto a quiet Canadian Atlantic
province, was described in a 1999 government report as suffering from "a strong cultural norm
of 'sameness'". Down, readers, down, I know how you feel. Those Canadians in PEI were all
bloody whities, weren't they? Wretched descendants of Anglo-Scots-Irish ancestry. But relax,
all is OK. Because now, according to Kathy Hambly, director of a local chamber of commerce,
"every street you walk down offers a different ethnic experience". The key words, of course,
are "street" and "experience". Immigrants tend to settle in areas together – streets rather than
homes – while their presence gives us an "experience", something culturally good, no doubt.

I am a strong supporter of Canada's multi-ethnic society. What gets me is the happy-clappy way
in which these government apparatchiks force their multiculturalism on the world at the cost of
destroying the English language.

I shall end with the worst of all recent linguistic crimes. My old letter-writing chum Max Pieper
brings to my attention the outrageous attempt by a liberal Jewish writer, Ilan Gur-Ze'ev to
diminish the importance of the Jewish Holocaust in order to explain Palestinian suffering. I
give you this key paragraph – do not ask me to explain this, for I have no idea what it means –
as an example:

"The Holocaust is not merely a historical episode. It is first and foremost an expression of the
fundamental histories of experience taking place in the dialectic between Eros and Thanatos,
which we duplicate in an ecstasy that has been domesticated to a state of smug 'normality'."

O reader, this does not compel. But call Detective Lentsch. It's concerning.