The others are somehow us too. Talking to others means, either way, talking to ourselves. So very different, so very complicated and dissimilar, we often turn out to be quite alike when we feel scared or have to protect the most valuable things in our lives. It is of a great danger to imagine ourselves unique among other nations, to see ourselves as bearers of a ‘particular fate’ or ‘mysterious soul’. We are just normal people who often tell quite the same stories, though we may live in different parts of the world and speak different languages.
This, however, is not the whole truth as well. We are truly different, especially when we feel scared or have to protect the most valuable things in our lives. Somebody chooses to fight to the bitter end while someone else is ready to compromise in all the ways possible.
Moreover, what do we, being so different, consider the most valuable things? Once, for example, we thought that the Freedom was the key value by which the idea of Europe was borne out, whereas the thesis is distributing with increasing frequency that today the Western societies name welfare, not Freedom, their key value. Somebody states that it’s only possible to survive a war when you kill a human in yourself, while someone survives only with plenty of humanity, like we do. Somebody strives to ‘exit the comfort zone’ while someone has simply never been there. Somebody laments adversities while someone sees these ‘adversities’ as privileges. Somebody cherishes their heroes while someone is afraid of the very word ‘hero’. Somebody insists on letting the dead go and forgetting all the traumatic experiences while someone literally lives with their dead and passes on the memory of their pain through generations. After all, everyone has their own history and shape of memory itself.
We have to search for common features in a kaleidoscope of ideas and ways of being. We have to customize our voice so that our story would be heard in its truth in different registers for different audiences from different countries of the world. How should we put our story in the focus, giving, at the same time, each story the right to stay in the focus and quitting to think in terms of peripheries?
The awakening of the voice is a cautious work. After being pinched for so long, the voice may sound harsh and blaming at first. It may shatter and vibrate hesitantly, break and wheeze. An experienced phoniatrician knows how easily a gaunt voice can fall into the abyss of silence again. An experienced narrator always asks their listener: what is your own story? Which note does your voice break on?
…Who is speaking today? Who is silent today? Who will benefit from this speaking? Who is speaking out of force? Why do them who keep silence are silent? How can they protect themselves from losing when keeping silent? Why is someone the one who blames while somebody else is the one who makes excuses? We have dozens of complicated questions to keep in focus when talking to different communities of the world, and dozens answers which we, however, cannot always apply properly.
Meanwhile, these questions are seemingly familiar to us from our usual experience of speaking to other people. In fact, we do already know that speaking always means listening, and the others whom we are talking to are somehow us as well.