I was having a real hard time listening to all these analyses stating that the Nice attacker was not a jihadist; they sounded as fake as the discovery that were fake the guns and grenades found in his truck — “Mohamed’s ‘ice cream’ truck,” already the stuff of legends: Eighty-four people dead, mowed down by a heartless wreck.

What difference does it make? With this indisputably criminal performance, the jihad has grown stronger anyway, and it goes on successfully “inspiring” the mentally deranged like never before. Everywhere. Does anybody, anywhere, have any doubt that the increasingly violent state of affairs we have been faced with for the last two years, since the establishment of the so-called caliphate in the Middle East, is the primary motivation behind all these horrific acts?

Worse still: I believe the violence in the world, jihadist or not, is about to reach critical mass, in which case a solution will become much harder to obtain. Not to mention the equally horrific assassinations of police officers in the U.S. these last two weeks, our very own most recent “trend.”

I started this chronicle with the firm intention of making Precocious-Peace-Nobelist Barack Obama responsible for all the (new and not so new) evil in this world, including the increasingly divisive racial situation in the United States. But something in his statement about the killings in Baton Rouge made me change my course of reasoning, I admit. Paraphrasing the great Portuguese poet, Luis de Camoes, “a greater value hath risen.”

Therefore, quoting President Obama (who, let’s face it, if he was to be taken at the face value of his frequently beautiful words, would be indeed one of the greatest politicians in this world, man or woman, ever): “We don’t need inflammatory rhetoric. We don’t need careless accusations thrown around to score political points or advance an agenda. We need to temper our words and open our hearts. All of us.”

Great. Indeed. That’s all we need.

But it’s not what I see. We are now in the midst of the 2016 Republican National Convention, and the inflammatory rhetoric directed at destroying Donald Trump is so violent, that I felt compelled to leave Twitter temporarily. Not that Twitter cares, not that there’s any real care on Twitter: “White gay supremacist activist” Milo Yiannopoulos (there are so many senseless qualifiers out there that I had to put these in quotations to at least save myself from their hidden content) was just permanently barred from Twitter. You heard it: permanently. This, despite so much violence and bigotry and racism and anti-Semitism and anti-police activism and what have you, tweeted and retweeted freely every single day. Not to mention, of course, the ubiquitous anti- and never-Trumpism. I wonder if next week, when the much-awaited Democratic National Convention takes place, we will see these same radical anti-Trumpist great wits reveal themselves as the wonderful, fair, balanced, unbiased pro-Clintonians that they are. At any rate, I probably won’t be there to watch.

The “campaign” has been so successful that, although in the U.S., as a Democracy, there’s still a place for people who endorse the Republican candidate, the same is not true for the rest of world, where the majority rejects Trump as blatantly as they endorsed Barack Obama back in 2008. And on practically the same basis: none. It must all come down to different hairstyles, as the saying goes.

I find it curious that this overwhelming anti-Trump fury (people are calling it “character assassination”) — which, by the way, now includes the Trump children, and grandchildren, and future great-grandchildren, and so on and so forth, forever after — not only occupies itself with mostly petty issues, like the “Trump family inclination to plagiarism,” but also makes a point of simply denying reality.

I saw it. Nobody told me.

One could go at will to the RNC live broadcast and watch the enthusiasm, the manifest oratory capacity exhibited even by the previously-seen-as-weird Tiffany Trump, or the attractive previously-seen-as-stupid Melania Trump (this damn xenophobic Word corrector had just replaced Melania with Melanie without my realizing it), or the quite brilliant, previously-seen-as-spoiled Donny Jr. (who, now we know, can drive a tractor as easily as he drives his expensive cars) — okay, I apologize for sounding like an enthusiastic Trump Clan Fan, which I’m not. Not to mention a few other smart contenders in the political arena, like Governor Christie performing a live trial of Hillary Clinton’s “misdemeanors” before throwing her to the hungry-for-words lions, oops, angry Republicans. And then, by a single touch of the active remote, one could get a simultaneous reality check from the “opposition” channels, where, to the Dems’ exhilarating content, the RNC was widely described as a complete disaster, fraught with errors, uneventful and stricken by sheer incompetence provoking dismay on their own constituents, now irreparably ashamed of their own stupidity and intellectual limitations.

Come on. These are, on average, 50% of all Americans.

As a previously-childless-now-proud-mother-of-two old hag, I confess I was moved by the open-hearted, loving energy in Don Jr.’s voice, when, as a New York delegate, he gave his father the necessary votes to reach the “magic number” that so many pundits predicted for so long was “unreachable,” at least for the despicable Donald Trump: “Congratulations, Dad!” Believe me. He meant it.

All and all, what I’ve seen so far is a family celebration, or a celebration of the family as the highest American value there is. But, of course, some “agendas” don’t wish to score points in such a controversial and prejudiced contemporary field. They’ve spent so much time and energy advocating just the opposite, that is, the disputable validity and veracity of such outdated institutions as the traditional family, previously known as an oversimplified mother-and-father-and-children-cell. I understand. They are really afraid of losing their social conquests, which made our world so much better and safer for everyone — a threat they now qualify as the risk of “social regression.”

Now, seriously, I have a confession to make. I’m so frightened by the present state of our society, by the loss of our personal safety and this regrettable, but consistent, sensation of generalized lack of hope concerning our future as a species, that this constitutes the real reason behind my decision to root for Trump, as I don’t vote. We need change.

I’m well aware these retrograde remarks will come as a total surprise. I honestly believe very few people associate the state of violence and divisiveness with the crazy incentives in the direction of eliminating anything that remotely sounds like “tradition.” And this would include, of course, the present popular trend in the direction of recovering national values, secure borders, “separation” from others. In other (their) words: “isolationism.”

Let me be clear, here. Regarding some other person as different, and envision this difference as enriching, not limiting — notwithstanding the fact that I might not want a specific person inside my private space at a given time — does not make me a bigot or a terrible person. What I see as a true nightmare is a pasteurized world, in which, despite the rhetoric in favor of the different, what has actually been sought is the homogeneity of humans: Everybody must embrace the same values and obey some theoretical “global leadership.”

The issue is quite confusing, I admit. I could never declare that I admire extremist Sharia Law or, to be quite crude, the habit of “circumcising” women by the extirpation of their clitoris, which may satisfy some cultural habits around the world. This must stop. Period. But there is something flagrantly wrong in the way we are trying to accomplish it, and it’s simply not working.

Of course, to believe that electing Donald Trump will solve all of these problems is an obviously absurd leap of faith, and I don’t expect any of that. But somehow, somewhere, no matter how subtly it is, something must be done to stop these world trends in the direction of “contemporaneity,” which are clearly causing a lot of harm.

And this is my point today. In the next couple of weeks, while American politics is preparing to reach “the next level,” I’m going to give myself a break. I have a highly personal, much-anticipated work of art to take care of, and I surely hope the world will allow me some tranquility to focus on it. At the end of the day, it makes no difference anyway, and a little bit of distance from the all-engulfing, 24-hour news cycle is highly advisable to any potential thinker.

After all, love and beauty must begin in the quiet of our homes. And hearts.

About the Author
Noga Sklar was born in Tiberias, Israel, in 1952. She grew up in Belo Horizonte and lived for 30 years in Rio de Janeiro, a city she left behind to take refuge in a paradise among the mountains of Petropolis. Noga met her American husband Alan Sklar in 2004, through the American Jewish dating site JDate. This meeting gave new impetus to her life and literary career, inspiring her first novel, “No degrees of separation” (to be published in English in 2016. She now lives in Greenville, SC, US, where she moved with her husband in October 2014.
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