Tintin in Basque Country
- Summer turns the tortoise into a mountain, which would not be news otherwise: The British Equality Commission has asked Tintin not to sell in the Congo because it “exposes gross racial stereotypes.” The reasons are the weight of the stone: “The book contains images of racial prejudice and inhuman words, its saviours look like apes and speak like idiots.” For the book, the committee sees only one option, which is to show it in a museum, with a large poster next to it that says “racist barbarity and demos.”
Iñigo Aranbarri
2013ko maiatzaren 03a
Dani Blanco
The mountain evidently has the tortoise uncovered; it is remarkably high. In search of our own Tintin, I've knocked down the net. When it comes to racism, we're not on the liver. To the readers of Nuestra Pueblo, Jean Elizalde, Servari, with the presence in Mexico: “What a look! Nihun will surely not win the first Garhait prize for their beauty! There is no greater drunkard than the Indians. No, I don't want Indianoe at all.
It is true that I would not kiss the first person on the lips...” That's Mexicans. The Cubans who are trying to manumize themselves from the weakened Spanish empire are no more beautiful, however. Case Emeterio Arrese, to our secular Republican poet: “You don’t know what I’m born with, you know what I’m born with, you know what I’m born with, you know what I’m born with.” In verse, and without resorting to the caricature of Pello Urkiola, more genuine, we have heard a greater one.
From race to field, we want the screams of oppression. Yomingo Soubelet has a very beautiful hagiography of the Marexal Petain. Speaking of philofascists, Jon Mirand makes an unashamed exaltation of pedophilia, which he does wonderfully. While we are dealing with the use of girls, where are women in general, like the Congolese of Tintin, freeing themselves from the “subordination of crude stereotypes”...?
Without a doubt, it is often better not to know the author of the work that has been beautifully done. Those of us who have taken delight in the wonderful tales of Borges, do we have to have in every line the support he gave to the military dictatorship in the aftermath? In a similar situation I have met eleven tinkers. The elaborate biography of its author, Pierre Assoulin, is worthy of frustrating even the most amateur. According to Assoulin, Herge was a philofascist, a Pre-Conciilian Catholic – but not of the Vatican but of Trent – an authoritarian, egomaniac and narrow. And what about her?
At the time, Herg himself apologized for the painful contents of many of his books. “I drank in the prejudices of the bourgeois society around me,” he said. To have the chance, I wouldn't have done it again. This is the minimum, and this is also the key.
The very question of the withdrawal of a work of fiction published 77 years ago gives the measure of society. Since fiction is fiction, it is something to be considered as such, there is nothing else. In a normal society, the work will have an ideological analysis of it, which will make it ethical. Or the editor will fix it, and not decide to publish it –Koldo Mitxelena’s Miranderi Eganen “the magazine is over”– and that’s it. Ibinagabeitia and Zaire, both more Catholic than most of us, should we not resent and ask ourselves to retire the Child's Arms? A
work in effigy burned, only calcined is caressed by the purifying flame. In other words: When Tintin retired from the Congo, it became clear that Herge was the colonialist, but neither Belgium, its kings, nor anything else from the time when the state was an empire was questioned. Nothing is a consequence or consequence of anything. If so, I'd rather be dirty.
It is true that I would not kiss the first person on the lips...” That's Mexicans. The Cubans who are trying to manumize themselves from the weakened Spanish empire are no more beautiful, however. Case Emeterio Arrese, to our secular Republican poet: “You don’t know what I’m born with, you know what I’m born with, you know what I’m born with, you know what I’m born with.” In verse, and without resorting to the caricature of Pello Urkiola, more genuine, we have heard a greater one.
From race to field, we want the screams of oppression. Yomingo Soubelet has a very beautiful hagiography of the Marexal Petain. Speaking of philofascists, Jon Mirand makes an unashamed exaltation of pedophilia, which he does wonderfully. While we are dealing with the use of girls, where are women in general, like the Congolese of Tintin, freeing themselves from the “subordination of crude stereotypes”...?
Without a doubt, it is often better not to know the author of the work that has been beautifully done. Those of us who have taken delight in the wonderful tales of Borges, do we have to have in every line the support he gave to the military dictatorship in the aftermath? In a similar situation I have met eleven tinkers. The elaborate biography of its author, Pierre Assoulin, is worthy of frustrating even the most amateur. According to Assoulin, Herge was a philofascist, a Pre-Conciilian Catholic – but not of the Vatican but of Trent – an authoritarian, egomaniac and narrow. And what about her?
At the time, Herg himself apologized for the painful contents of many of his books. “I drank in the prejudices of the bourgeois society around me,” he said. To have the chance, I wouldn't have done it again. This is the minimum, and this is also the key.
The very question of the withdrawal of a work of fiction published 77 years ago gives the measure of society. Since fiction is fiction, it is something to be considered as such, there is nothing else. In a normal society, the work will have an ideological analysis of it, which will make it ethical. Or the editor will fix it, and not decide to publish it –Koldo Mitxelena’s Miranderi Eganen “the magazine is over”– and that’s it. Ibinagabeitia and Zaire, both more Catholic than most of us, should we not resent and ask ourselves to retire the Child's Arms? A
work in effigy burned, only calcined is caressed by the purifying flame. In other words: When Tintin retired from the Congo, it became clear that Herge was the colonialist, but neither Belgium, its kings, nor anything else from the time when the state was an empire was questioned. Nothing is a consequence or consequence of anything. If so, I'd rather be dirty.