Category Archives: Writing

“Heil” Rather than “Hail” to the Chief

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The United States finally has a Führer!

It’s been a long time coming.  At least since the administration of William Jefferson Clinton.  And at each stage it has become seemingly worse but the sad truth is that is has just become a more and more obvious reality.  Donald J. Trump is just a more blatant and more honest version of Joseph Robinette Biden. Then again, perhaps today’s United States Führer is really Benjamin Netanyahu (well, really Mileikowsky, but that’s another story), and he has probably been the Führer since before he even became prime minister of Israel.

The United States Constitution has been illusory since the Civil War, evolving from a confederate structure to today’s unitary state in all but name, and unitary in the dictatorial sense, where the semblance of separation of powers is only a sad delusion.  Today’s system of governance in the United States of North America (as we in South America prefer to call it), both domestically and internationally, has become one that emulates Mussolini’s Italy and Hitler’s Germany, a corporatist state in training with plenty of billionaires surfing happily in the current president’s wake.  I don’t state that as an insult but rather an acknowledgement that all power has become concentrated in the presidency, something that occurred historically in ancient Rome when the Republic morphed into the Empire.  The judiciary has become subsumed at the highest level and although numerous members of the federal judiciary at the District and Circuit levels remain loyal in their decisions to “they who appointed them” now, given the composition of the Supreme Court, that is at best a stalling tactic.

One of the most repulsive aspects of “fascism” (the sociopolitical and economic philosophy common to Nazis, Zionists and today’s United States rather than the meaningless pejorative aphorism used to describe political enemies), in addition to its proclivity for genocide, ethnic cleansing and the quest for lebensraum, is how it turns decent people, moral people, into willing accomplices.  Fascism is democratic, it wouldn’t work if it wasn’t.   Mussolini, Hitler, Netanyahu and Mr. Trump (as well as Messrs. Clinton, Bush, Obama and Biden) all enjoyed broad popular support from the electorates which, for whatever reasons (and the reasons were and are diverse), their members had been led to enthusiastically espouse.  Not that there wasn’t opposition to fascist governments then and now but thuggery by masked agents of the state, masked to assure the anonymity essential for impunity, took care of that in each case, and violently so.  Interestingly, fascism (as well as other related systems) relies heavily on a sense of outraged victimhood and purported moral and xenophobic ethnic superiority as essential unifying elements.  And the foregoing describes todays United States and its idol Israel, to a tee.

Ironically, most of the United States electorate is aware of the internal fascist problem (though they have no idea what fascism is) but they have been successfully polarized so that the principle of “divide and conquer” is effectively used to completely blunt such realization.  At the federal level, the United States political system is not democratic in any sense, it was designed to create the illusion of democracy but without democracy’s impediments to control by political and economic elites.  Moreover, a two party dictatorship was imposed through legislative favoritism so that at the federal level, it is virtually impossible to attain public office unless one is sponsored by either the ill-named Democratic Party or the equally ill-named Republican Party.  In reality, they are two sides of the same coin and the coin is owned by the American Israel Public Affairs Committee which not only funds approximately 90% of all federal elective officials but destroys any candidate who rejects its dominance, in each case, through massive expenditures that in an ethical system would be identified as “bribes”.  Those voters whose allegiance is pledged to the Democratic and Republican parties clearly see the fascist tendencies in the other party but are certain that their own party is pristinely patriotic and dedicated to the ideals pursuant to which the United States was purportedly founded, i.e., democracy, liberty, justice under law, etc., although few have any idea what such ideals mean.  Thus, the fascist cancer has successfully invaded and conquered the United States body politic, … now apparently terminally.

That fascist leaders (e.g., a Führer) behave in a manner that any normally aware person would recognize as insane apparently poses no problem.  Indeed, the insanity of the Führer’s conduct is an asset, at least in the beginning, as opponents, having no idea how to deal with it, initially acquiesce to numerous ludicrous demands, demands that all too often have horrific consequences.  Demands that become incrementally more ludicrous until all aspects of organized civil conduct are replaced by the Führer’s personal morality of the moment, something that Mr. Trump personally clearly and unequivocally specified when faced with challenges based on international, constitutional and ordinary legal impediments.  Had he a bit more historical acuity he probably would have quoted French King Luis XIV by adding “L’État, c’est moi”!

It is amazing to me, and very disturbing, that so many career military officers in the United States who I have known for most of my life and who I respect and admire, men who have taken an oath to “uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States”, now take umbrage at the observation by a retired senior military officer and current member of Congress that members of the United States armed forces “must not obey illegal orders”.  That was the crux of the law imposed by the United States and its allies on the entire world immediately following World War Two through the decisions of the Nuremburg tribunals, decisions against the leaders, civil as well as military, of the defeated Nazi regime.  Hypocritical decisions, that’s true.  The United States and its allies had engaged in conduct at least as evil as had the losers in that conflict and the decisions were based on purportedly prohibited ex post facto “legislation”.  But at any rate, those decisions have proven farcical, especially with respect to the Zionists who were so active as judges and prosecutors in such tribunals but whose descendants today claim that “international law does not apply to them”.   And by extension, it cannot apply to their chief enablers, primarily the United States, but also the United Kingdom, the Federal Republic of Germany, the Fifth French Republic.  Indeed, to any of the member states of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.

So we now live in the Hobbesian “State of Nature”, one essential for functional Führers where, as enunciated recently by a senior United States official, this time against Denmark, one of the United States own allies, that “only might makes right”.  And the chickens have come home to roost, as they tend to do.  The bullying of other countries is now not only all inclusive but it is now being applied to citizens and nationals of the United States by heavily armed, anonymous, poorly trained uniformed thugs, members of an evolving constitutionally proscribed virtual federal police force, and the states be damned.  After all, states rely on the Constitution first put into effect in 1791 for their authority, and that Constitution is now a zombie….

At best.
_____

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2026; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet and aspiring empirical philosopher) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. Previously, he chaired the social studies and foreign language departments at the Eastern Military Academy in Huntington, New York. He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review available at Substack.com; an intermittent commentator on radio and television; and, an occasional contributor to diverse periodicals and publications. He has academic degrees in political science (BA, The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina), law (JD, St. John’s University, School of Law), international legal studies (LL.M, the Graduate Division of the New York University School of Law) and translation and linguistic studies (GCTS, the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta, cosmology and cosmogony. He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.

Introspective Ramblings

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I started this piece in late November of 2025.  It is now mid-January of 2026.  The Ides of January in fact.  I started with a specific focus but all too quickly what I was writing mutated into a ramble.  Ramblings seem incoherent and they frequently are, but not always.  Sometimes, as in the case of poetry, there are verities to be gleaned in their tangled depths.  At the very least, within a rambling’s shadows, within its hues and tints, there may be clues as to the nature of the person rambling.  Clues that may or may not be meaningful to others but may well be introspectively important to the one who’s opened up his or her streams of consciousness which, for some reason, he or she felt compelled to share,

The following certainly shares the odor of a rambling.  Hopefully though, a benign rambling albeit perhaps a bit too long, for which I apologize.

I’m an expatriate, an expatriate squared or perhaps an expatriate unraveled.  I was born in the Republic of Colombia but soon after I turned six I “was emigrated” with my sister to join my mother and new step father in Miami Beach.  I use the phrase “was emigrated” because leaving Colombia was not my idea, I loved Manizales, the city where I was born and today recognized as one of the best places to live in the world, but I admitted that the idea of moving to the United States was exciting.

I’ve lived in diverse parts of the United States during most of my life; however, since the Ides of October in 2007 I’ve again become a resident of north central Colombia.  Now, as it was before I was six, I live closer to the Pacific than to the Caribbean.  I now, once again, live in the summit of the central range of the Colombian Andes, again in Manizales, a city blessed by perpetual spring and surrounded by snow clad peaks whilst overlooking valleys where summer always dwells, all within a ninety minute radius. 

So, … since I was six I was a Colombian expatriate in the United States, a Colombian expatriate for over half a century and, as tends to occur, in the process I acquired important links to the United States but I never lost my spiritual links to Colombia.  Now that I’m back though, and I’ve been back for almost two decades, I’m a sort of United States expatriate in Colombia. 

That’s not all that unusual.  As is the case with the Irish as well, many who leave their homes for perceived opportunities in foreign shores long to return and the lucky ones eventually do, but changed.  We tend to be twice torn, happy to have returned but longing for the many places we’ve lived while abroad.  In my case, pining for Miami Beach and Charlotte and New York and the Carolina mountains and Central Florida, but especially for Manhattan, and for Charleston.

My apartment in Manizales, one I bought within a month of my return in order to make it difficult for me to change my mind (I knew I’d miss my family and friends a great deal), occupies the entire tenth floor in a condominium set where one starts to enter the city center.  It sits across the street from a beautiful little park centered on a fountain gifted to the city by the Fourth French Republic about a century ago.  On the other side of the park is the city’s large cultural complex which features a large theater and auditorium.  There, the departmental (a mix between a state and a county) symphony frequently performs as do theater groups from diverse parts of the world.  It also features a number of event rooms and an art museum.  My apartment is a block away from the principal hub of a recently installed cable car complex that drops down to the regional bus terminal and then to a nearby city.  From the regional bus terminal, one can take bus transport to all parts of the country and, in a different direction, by cable car again, to an uptown commercial, civic and educational hub.  Because the condominium is designed with a single large apartment per floor and because I’m on the tenth floor, I enjoy unobstructed three hundred and sixty degree views of the entire city and of the surrounding mountains and of the valleys far below. 

To the west, just before twilight, I can see sunsets in brilliant scarlet fading to purple, with gold and green highlights reflected off of clouds over the distant Pacific Ocean and sometimes, during the evenings, lightning flashes over the Pacific covering that part of the sky.  Also to the west, the spires of one of the world’s tallest cathedrals, one with a very long name: “La Catedral Basílica de Nuestra Señora Del Rosario”, climb towards heaven.  On top of the tallest spire a gentle crucified Nazarene seems to be casting himself to those below, apparently having finally accepted the challenge mistakenly attributed to Lucifer (the tempter’s real name was Hêlêl).  Rippling beyond the cathedral flow what the Chilean Nobel Laureate, Pablo Neruda (my favorite poet), once described as “a sea of mountains”.

To the south, very far to the south, many departments distant, lies the planetary equator which crosses the southern regions of Colombia.  Picture windows in my den and bedroom overlook that southern view which also involves a sea of mountains but, in that direction, dormant volcanoes lie resting as well (well, sort of dormant).  Ironically, the tallest four peaks are crested in white reflecting snow covered glaciers (rather than sea foam); a “sea” like the one to the west, both mountainous seas dressed in myriad shades of green morphing to blues and purples in the distance.  Similar sights, but for the volcanoes and the crested white peaks, also dress the north and west.

All the windows in my apartment are wide, tall picture windows which capture entrancing scenery and a great deal of light as well.  One would have thought that having returned from the United States to the north, the north would have been the direction on which I focused and, initially, I did, always with melancholy and nostalgia.  But it was the windows that faced south, those in my bedroom and in my den, which for some reason, enchanted me.  “Enchanted” in the mystical sense as well as the aesthetic.

From the southern windows, when I first returned to Colombia I almost immediately began to engage in a ritual of sorts.  During the evenings, as the sun set just before twilight, I would “call” one of the four cardinal quarters, the one meant to open the spiritual gates to the south.  That was sort of strange as, in my case, while I’ve always been fascinated by the concepts of divinity and deities, I’ve rejected organized religion and find organized mass prayer, prayer where ritual words are repeated without reflection and introspection as to their meaning and their context, troublesome rather than inspiring, and hypocritical as well[1].  I was thus engaging in actions that seemed indistinguishable from those I found objectionable and drawing comfort therefrom, apparently drawn to a primordial need for solace when faced with profound changes for which I was not totally prepared but couldn’t avoid.  I didn’t actually believe that the ritual really had any real validity but it brought me solace nonetheless.

Anyway, … when I left what had been my life for well over half a century behind, which I did in the fall of 2007, I for, some reason, adapted as my own, aspects of rituals employed by non-traditionalist, non-Abrahamic, purportedly primordial religions; rituals used when seeking to both open and close hallowed spaces, usually in the form of sacred circles, spaces in which to commune with that which, to some, seemed hallowed.  I did so as an individual rather than as part of a group and I limited the ritual, which is normally quadridirectional, north-east-south and west, solely to the south.  The ritual I designed for myself involved opening a gate to the southern quadrant, engaging in nostalgic and melancholic reflection and introspection, and then closing it.

After I would metaphorically “open” the gate I’d reflect on my life and on what I’d left behind, most importantly, on my three sons, Billy, Alex and Edward.  And I’d think about many of the acquaintances and friends with whom I could no longer interact, at least not physically.  I’d reminisce concerning my former students, classmates, mentors and colleagues at the old Eastern Military Academy in New York and about my classmates and the stream of special people that somehow consistently flow from the Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina, my alma mater (my son Billy’s alma mater as well).  And I’d grieve for those graduates from both institutions whose lives had been so cavalierly wasted in useless wars where all the victims on both sides were mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and sons and daughters of others, but rarely the relatives of those politicians and entrepreneurs who had insisted on the conflict and were made wealthy thereby.  My return to Colombia coincided with a large popular movement to end armed conflicts which had plagued the country and its people for centuries and, in part, my return was motivated by a compulsion to participate in a positive manner in efforts to see such efforts succeed.

During the ritual, I would also recall my classmates and teachers at the St. John’s University School of Law and at the graduate division of the New York University School of Law, my alma maters as well.  And I’d recall my classmates and teachers at the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies where I’d attended classes in the graduate program in linguistics and translation studies in 2005 and 2006.  I also frequently recalled Debra Allen Vazquez, a wonderful professor I’d had at a creative writing course I’d taken at a community college in Ocala in the late 1990’s, a wonderful woman who was murdered in front of the Ocala police station with her infant granddaughter in her arms by an estranged, xenophobic husband.  Xenophobia, racism and misogyny, the triple pillars that have always haunted the so called “American Dream”.

I initially focused my reflections on academic acquaintances and experiences because I’d returned to Colombia to work as a member of the faculty of the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales, first, briefly in the Language Institute but then in the Department of Juridical and Political Studies which I briefly chaired, and then in the university’s political science government and international relations programs which I chaired for a significant period.  That, of course, does not mean that I didn’t reminisce and reflect on many other people: on acquaintances, friends, colleagues and lovers.  Too many of the latter, unfortunately; I’ve emotionally hurt too many women who’ve loved me, although I never meant to.  I’ve seemingly been engaged in a quest for a perfect soulmate and perfection is not only hard to find but leaves behind too much disenchantment in its wake, on both sides.

I’d also reflect on the many places where I’d lived and worked while in the United States.  I’d reflect on Miami Beach where I’d first lived with my new family, and on Fort Lauderdale where I’d had two of my three sons much later on, and on Charleston in South Carolina and on Charlotte in the north, and of course, on New York.  And with respect to New York City, I’d recall my life in Ozone Park and Hollis and Jamaica and Queens Village and in Manhattan which I loved, and in Whitestone and, in Long Island.  And with respect to Long Island, the part of it which lies outside of New York City, I’d reminisce about Glen Cove but most of all, on the castle where I lived for so long, the castle that topped the highest point of Long Island in Cold Spring Hills in Huntington. Today the castle is called OHEKA but back then it was the Eastern Military Academy.  I loved those places and left pieces of my soul in each.

At any rate, after I was through with my reflections, reflections which too often involved a dash of self-pity (of which I’d quickly repent, or at least attempt to repent), I’d usually find the motivation I needed to restructure my life, hopefully in a better manner than I had in the past.  And then it would be time to close the gate to the southern quadrant.

I’d open and close the gate with the following ritual phrases uttered while facing the south and looking out through the large picture window in my den.  Opening the figurative gate to that quarter, I’d softly declaim (after all, I was alone):  “Spirits of the South, of fire, of heat and passion, of energy and creativity, I invite you to join with me in this space and ask that you grant me your peace, your wisdom and your protection.  Be with me now. Blessed Be.”

And later, when I was done, I’d close the gate to the southern quarter by softly declaiming:  “Spirits of the South, of fire, of heat and passion, of energy and creativity, I thank you for attending my rites and guarding this space, and now, I invite you to stay if you please or depart if you must, in either case, with my peace and blessings.  Blessed Be.”

I didn’t do anything similar with respect to the other cardinal points, the East, the West and the North, I’m not sure why.  Perhaps because the South represented the present and the future and that’s where I most needed help.

Despite my lack of belief in an anthropomorphic divinity, I’m not an atheist.  I am perhaps more of a curious agnostic but I do seem to sometimes need a bit of magic in my life, a bit of something still unexplained albeit not inexplicable, a bit of something supernatural, of forces beyond my ken.  In fact, I believe that questing to understand “whatever gods may be” (a quote I love from the poem “Invictus” by William Ernest Henley) is a duty and not just a curiosity.  One I’ve always taken seriously based on a pact I made with “whatever gods may be” when I was seven.  Apparently I was somewhat bold as a child, … and perhaps irreverent.  I was bathing, looking at the ceiling and trying unsuccessfully to reconcile what I was being taught in catechism classes when it occurred to me to strike a deal with the god I was being taught to worship but in whom, even then, I couldn’t quite believe but feared to disbelieve.  I couldn’t accept that an omnipotent, omnibenevolent, omniscient entity would be so insecure as to insist that he, she or it be worshipped based on fear and faith rather than on real love, real love earned, and on real knowledge, gnosis some had called it but I hadn’t yet heard of Gnostics.  And so I promised to explore and research until I attained sufficient knowledge to worship the deity based on evident realities but to behave morally and ethically as if it existed, even if that existence seemed improbable.

At any rate, the foregoing is now relatively long ago. 

We tend to change and I am not the inchoate man I was as a child, or the one I was before … et seriatum, etc.  It’s been a full life so far hopefully with a good deal more yet to live although, with the world in the horrible state in which it finds itself, the future is no certain thing and the longer I live the more I learn that most of what we’ve been taught, most of what I once believed, has been false; most of what I myself taught was false, especially the history I taught when I was in my twenties.  I really believed what I’d been taught and what I in turn taught as so many still do; however, I eventually woke to the reality that most history is only propaganda and that discerning truth involves not only hard work and objectivity but also a great deal of luck.  Since my late twenties, now many decades ago, I’ve done my best to find truth, and to share it.  To share it all too often with people for whom I care but who have no interest in having their illusions shattered.  And the truth is that objective certainty concerning history is never certain.  It’s something that we can perhaps approach but never attain.  There are too many variables and too many contexts and too little time.  We can’t even successfully discern the accuracy of the news concerning current events that we’re fed daily; something many of us have come to realize as we lose faith in the media and even in the entertainment industry, both institutions used successfully to control us. 

Notwithstanding the foregoing, despair concerning the absence of verity does nothing positive.  We need to keep plugging along doing the best we can, especially those of us in academia, whether as instructors or researchers.  But we need to inform those to whom we seek to impart knowledge that we can be as wrong as those who sought to do the same with us.  That means we have a great deal of constant research in which to engage if truth matters.  And it does to me.  And a great deal of listening to do as well as pontificating.[2]

It’s long since I’ve engaged in the rituals I’ve described but such rituals seem to have worked.  I arrived in Colombia knowing virtually no one and today, almost two decades later, I have many local acquaintances, some among them friends and most of them special people.  And I’ve been very active, active in academic circles as well as in cultural, civic and political circles.  The current president of Colombia, Gustavo Francisco Petro Urrego, visited me in my apartment on several occasions, albeit prior to his ascension.  In fact, seven years ago he sat granting televised interviews from the desk where I now sit and write these introspections.  Yes; I’ve been very fortunate.  Surprisingly so.  Inexplicably so.  Probably undeservedly so, especially with respect to the wonderful women with whom I’ve been involved, especially with respect to the one who’s become my wife.

For some reason I recently recalled the rituals I’ve described and after a search through my computer archives I found the specific phrases I used to evoke and invoke them, the ones I shared above.  And I decided that they deserved to be honored and that they deserved to be thanked.  The rituals were not entirely unfocused, they were directed at the evolving monist, panentheistic divinity I think may exist, one about which I frequently write and on which I frequently speculate, not always in a manner which it would find pleasing were it both sentient (possible) and anthropomorphic (unlikely).  But what I write reflects my honest opinions, always represented as such, and are never, or perhaps better said, rarely, undertaken in a quest for favor but rather, frequently, perhaps usually, to either give thanks or to attempt to attain introspective understanding.  After all, it’s what I promised a certain purported divinity many decades ago.

Anyway, … having written this ramble in the form of an elegy of sorts to rituals in which I may not really believe, an elegy written in a spirit of thanksgiving, a real spirit of thanksgiving unrelated to the celebration on the last Thursday in November involving a celebration of genocide and ethnic “cleansing”, one undertaken in the country I love but left, I’ll close, by first, acknowledging that the rituals seem to have been at least helpful in assisting me to better know the person who stares back at me from my mirrors and, secondly, as I did when I closed the gate to the southern quarter, by sincerely saying to one and all, friend or foe:

“Blessed be!”

This ramble, or perhaps rant, is too long, I know, but that is often the nature of rambles and rants.
_____

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2025; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet and aspiring empirical philosopher) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. Previously, he chaired the social studies and foreign language departments at the Eastern Military Academy in Huntington, New York. He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review available at Substack.com; an intermittent commentator on radio and television; and, an occasional contributor to diverse periodicals and publications. He has academic degrees in political science (BA, The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina), law (JD, St. John’s University, School of Law), international legal studies (LL.M, the Graduate Division of the New York University School of Law) and translation and linguistic studies (GCTS, the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta, cosmology and cosmogony. He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.

[1] However, there is no denying that others find such rituals not only meaningful but essential and I strongly believe that that whatever the objective validity of our respective positions, attacking the “faith” that makes another’s life tolerable is unjustifiable.

[2] On the other hand, an ex-wife of mine used to insist that she’d rather be happy than right and that truth was relative anyway.  Most people today, it would seems agree with her.

Paradoxical Reflections as 2025 Morphs into 2026

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Dateline, January 4, 2026

For many historians the assassinations of Roman reformers Tiberius Gracchus in 133 BCE and of his brother, Gaius Gracchus, in 121 BCE, both tribunes of the plebs who pushed for agrarian and social reforms against powerful Senate opposition, marked the end of the Roman Republic, at least in constitutional terms.  The rational system of governance represented by the Republic broke down after that with the dictatorships of Marius and Sulla, and then the triumvirates of Julius Caesar, Gnaeus Pompeius (self-denominated Magnus), and Marcus Licinius Crassus until Octavian Caesar initiated the Imperium a century later. 

In the case of the United States of North America (a more accurate name than the United States or the United States of America), constitutional order, at least involving the constitution usurpatively adopted in 1789, first broke down in 1861 with the war between the states (now usually referred to as the Civil War except among conservative Caucasians in the South where it is known as the War of Northern Aggression), being thereafter replaced by a militarily imposed new constitutional order which was, in turn, more legally replaced during the presidency of Woodrow Wilson by a new antifederalist centrist variant through adoption of the 16th, 17th, 18th and 19th amendments, amendments which, because they virtually destroyed the Constitution’s federalist premises, could well be considered unconstitutional constitutional amendments as described by Professor Richard Albert of the University of Texas’ School of Law.  But the end of any semblance of constitutionalism in the United States entered its death throes, as did the concept of international law, during the presidency of William Jefferson Clinton in 1992, culminating in their absolute demise during the second term of the presidency of Donald John Trump.  By that time, most of those who, upon assuming office in the United States, whether civil or military, took an oath to “defend and protect the Constitution of the United States” in truth were dedicated to serving the dictates of the de facto Führer, a more accurate term for the dictatorial presidents of the United States that started with Mr. Clinton and reached a high point (so far) with the presidency of Donald Trump.  They (the de facto führers), in turn, along with most of the bureaucracy and the members of the United States Congress, owed their loyalty to the unelected, secretive, American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) which bought most of them with monetary contributions and “favors” and which in turn owed its fealty to the Hobbesian Zionist Israeli government.

The result, both domestically and internationally, was a return to what philosopher Thomas Hobbes had once described as “the State of Nature”, not a benevolent environmentally friendly status but one where brute power was the only reality that mattered.  In both cases, the Roman and that of the United States, indeed, in that of the entire global state system, the demise of constitutional government, in each case based on superficial principles of liberty and democracy, experienced a gradual, unperceived death which, by the time it had become permanent, was virtually ignored, unmourned by the vast majority of the populations they were meant to serve. 

Unbidden, the ancient Trojan prophetess Cassandra comes to mind as I write this, and the political prophets Aldous Huxley and his former student, Eric Arthur Blair (writing as George Orwell) as well, as do the warnings in the farewell addresses of presidents George Washington and Dwight David Eisenhower.  But all to no avail. 

In this world, evil, greed, impunity and hypocrisy seemingly always triumph.  At least where collectives are involved.  It turns out that collectives, meant to foster collaboration in the quest for mutual benefit instead serve as means for the most ruthless and selfish among us to concentrate power, facilitated by our fatal individual naiveté and immense capacity for self-deception.

As I all too frequently end my reflections nowadays, I again see Elphaba Thropp (albeit in her earlier 1930s incarnation in the film, “The Wizard of Oz”) slowly melting after having been inadvertently doused with water by the ingénue, Dorothy, with Elphaba desperately declaiming: “what a world, what a world”!

Welcome to 2026!

_____

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2026; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet and aspiring empirical philosopher) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. Previously, he chaired the social studies and foreign language departments at the Eastern Military Academy in Huntington, New York. He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review available at Substack.com; an intermittent commentator on radio and television; and, an occasional contributor to diverse periodicals and publications. He has academic degrees in political science (BA, The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina), law (JD, St. John’s University, School of Law), international legal studies (LL.M, the Graduate Division of the New York University School of Law) and translation and linguistic studies (GCTS, the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta, cosmology and cosmogony. He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.

Solstice Day, 2025

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Today, December 21st, 2025 we experience a solstice, really two: the Winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, the shortest day and longest night of the year, and the Southern Solstice in the South with the longest day and shortest night.  In Colombia, which straddles the equator, in its southern regions it experiences the Summer Solstice, at the equator, well, perhaps nothing at all, all days being equal, and to the North, the Winter Solstice.  As in so many other things, Colombia has it all.

Like the equinoxes, to me the solstices are days for introspection and reflection and more, so than New Year’s Day, days for refocusing and resolutions.  Our world is in terrible shape, chaos and injustice reign in a replica of what philosopher Thomas Hobbes described many centuries ago as the “State of Nature”, a phrase having nothing to do with sound ecological practices but rather, with chaos, injustice, lawlessness and impunity.  The reality is that our world has seemingly always functioned (dysfunctioned would be more accurate) this way but, we have always been successfully deluded through false and fanciful narratives into believing that there are good guys on one side who believe in truth, justice and equity, and bad guys on the other who believe in nothing at all but power and pleasure for themselves.

Historians should know differently, as should journalists, but they don’t, or they don’t care because they’re an integral part of the problem.  Reflecting on how genocide and ethnic cleansing and the quest for lebensraum have become fashionable in Western and Central Europe and in the Anglo-Saxon world, rather than anathema (as we were told following the Second World War), I’ve come to doubt everything I was taught concerning World War Two and World War One, indeed, about the American Revolution and the American Civil War, and which I then, in turn taught others.  There were no “good guys” in any of those “conflicts”, only evil politicians and sacrificial victims on all sides, sacrificial victims who along with their families provided the fuel to make the rich richer and the poor poorer. 

In what we refer to as the Western World, the purportedly Democratic World, being seen as the good guys seems existentially important despite the hundreds of millions of people who have been slaughtered through our elective wars and through our colonialism, purportedly a “burden” imposed on us in order to raise our cultural inferiors to our intellectual and moral heights.  The Romans of two millennia ago, prior to their conquest by Christianity, were just as selfishly aggressive as are we in the Western World, the purportedly Democratic World, but they were much more honest.  They had no problem at all in being seen as the bad guys but, truth be told, we have easily surpassed them in savagery and in a lack of respect for legal institutions, all the while insisting that we do what we do in the name of justice, liberty, decency and democracy.  In the name of our Abrahamic god. 

We are masters of hypocrisy.  For example, followers of the Christian branch of the Abrahamic triad abhor the economic theses on which their religion is purportedly based, which ironically coincide with the premises underlying communism, i.e., not only political, social and economic equality and equity, but a dedication to lift up the poorest and most humble among us while preventing the accumulation of massive wealth by the few (remember the camel and the eye of the needle).  Among the followers of the Judaic branch of that triad, people who for millennia were victims of intense social and legal injustice, post-eighth-century Eurasian converts today purportedly acting in the name of all Jews have become oppressors and mass murderers in an apparent quest for political and economic hegemony.  The Islamic branch meanwhile looks on: Palestinians (descendants of real Jews) are sacrificed while wealthy Arab leaders pretend to care but at best, do nothing and at worst, secretly collude with Christian and Zionist Islamophobes.  Ironically, the atheists among us are those most inclined to avoidance of state sponsored murder and most supportive of equity, equality and social justice.

Reflecting on the foregoing on this day of solstices, a movie from the late nineteen thirties, the old movie version of the Wizard of Oz, one of the first to use color, comes to mind, specifically with reference to one of its final scenes.  The scene in which its purported villain, Elphaba, the fictional Wicked Witch of the East, exclaims (after she was accidentally soaked with water by the heroine, and began to melt), “what a world, what a world”!  That metaphor was certainly prescient, not only with respect to today’s world, but to our world since significantly before history was first recorded, perhaps since we first evolved as purported Homo Sapiens.

Anyway, … enough reflection and introspection.  What about resolutions?  Is there anything we can do to change the inequity that surrounds us? 

Well, maybe not.  But we can at least try.  The strange thing about we humans is that in large collectives we tend to be horrible while individually, although some of us are indeed horrible, the majority are decent albeit incredibly gullible and all too ignorant.  Thus, perhaps the first thing we need to do is to help each other shed our blinders by realizing that virtually everything we’re taught is false and then, by following our more humane instincts, for example, the so called Golden Rule, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”, rather than its perverted analog, “do unto others whatever you can get away with before they do it unto you”.  Perhaps then, hopefully blinder free and well intentioned, we can reject leadership by all those who seek dominion through violence and deception, and who follow the creed of perpetual greed and perpetual war, albeit in disguise.

Anyway (again), … these are my reflections after a good deal of introspection on a shortest day and a longest night high in the central range of the Colombian Andes.
_____

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2025; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet and aspiring empirical philosopher) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. Previously, he chaired the social studies and foreign language departments at the Eastern Military Academy in Huntington, New York. He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review available at Substack.com; an intermittent commentator on radio and television; and, an occasional contributor to diverse periodicals and publications. He has academic degrees in political science (BA, The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina), law (JD, St. John’s University, School of Law), international legal studies (LL.M, the Graduate Division of the New York University School of Law) and translation and linguistic studies (GCTS, the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta, cosmology and cosmogony. He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.

Reflections on a Chilly Morning in Late November

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It’s cold in Manizales, a city in the sky set high in the central range of the Colombian Andes, although it dawned hot and sunny.  Well, relatively hot.  It’s about nine o’clock in the morning on the last day of November in a year that has seen the very worst of humanity triumph all over a sad and abused planet.

In Manizales it never really gets too hot or, truth be told, too cold.  Just different ranges of spring although the humidity varies, frequently by the hour.  Still, it’s chilly right now.  Today I’ve layered up: tee shirt under shirt under sweater.  That’s all I need here to escape the chill.  The morning has turned foggy, visibility outside is nil, but it involves low lying clouds more than fog, as occurs when you’re in a city higher than the seven thousand foot mark, an interesting albeit common phenomenon in this city in the sky set amidst mountains usually dressed in myriad shades of green.  The sight is eerily beautiful.  It’s as though the city repented of having woken early and pulled its ethereally fluffy white blankets back up over its head. 

It’s a good day for a fireplace.  For several fireplaces.  We have a small one set high on a wall in the living room but it’s not wood burning, it’s powered by a relatively small propane gas cylinder, not a fireplace Santa would appreciate but very pretty when it’s lit.  Something we seldom do.  If I were to build the perfect house it would be set amidst waterfalls and deep caverns and lakes but near the ocean, and would have fireplaces all over the place, and large rooms with balconies, and the roof would be a park-like terrace full of plants but with a Jacuzzi and would feature wrought iron outdoor living room furniture of sorts, and a wrought iron desk with a glass top so I could work outside, and an outdoor fire pit nearby. 

But, for now, no such luck. 

Still, I can’t complain, I have a large tenth floor apartment that occupies the entire floor giving us a three hundred and sixty degree view of the city and of the surrounding mountains, many clad in snow, and of the neighboring city set below, far below with a tall cathedral set not very far away, and a small park set outside of the front door.  And with a used-book store set aside our lobby.  The city’s cultural center with its large performing arts center is across the street and a block away we have the city’s initial aerial cable transport station, gondolas taking us to the nearby bus terminal and then to the neighboring municipality.  And, two blocks from our front door, a small modern shopping mall.

What I don’t have is my three sons, now all grown; two with children of their own.  They live a continent away in the Global North and I never see them now; well, except every once in a while in a video call.  We’ve lived apart for a very long time now, decades.  I’ve remarried to a wonderful woman, not just attractive but spiritual and intelligent and eclectic, and she fills a lot of the void I’ve created for myself after leaving most of my past behind, as do the wonderfully kind, talented and artistic people of Manizales, and as do my few expatriate friends, traces of my old life, but nothing can replace my sons.  I think of them daily.  And I think of the many, many people I’ve known, some of whom I’ve loved.  Most of them have long vanished from my life but not from my memory.

It’s been a full life, one full of blessing and of challenges, most of which (the challenges) have been overcome.  It frequently feels as though it’s been too full but today, for some reason, it seems hollow.  Perhaps it’s the weather but, although the low lying clouds still have everything covered so that it seems as though the world outside my windows has been erased, a bright spot in the white, a brighter white, seems to be trying to break through.  Of course, eventually it will.  It always does.

So, why does today still feel so gloomy?

It must be missing my sons and the grandchildren I’ve never really gotten to know which sculpts the day in hollow tones.  And the echoes of old relationships turned acrid which, at least from time to time, still cast long and somber shadows.

_____

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2025; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet and aspiring empirical philosopher) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. Previously, he chaired the social studies and foreign language departments at the Eastern Military Academy in Huntington, New York. He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review available at Substack.com; an intermittent commentator on radio and television; and, an occasional contributor to diverse periodicals and publications. He has academic degrees in political science (BA, The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina), law (JD, St. John’s University, School of Law), international legal studies (LL.M, the Graduate Division of the New York University School of Law) and translation and linguistic studies (GCTS, the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta, cosmology and cosmogony. He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.

Divine Quandaries

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Divinity, at least according to followers of Abrahamic religions, involves five essential attributes: eternal existence, the divinity must have always existed and will always exist; omnipresence, i.e., the divinity must be ubiquitous, concurrently everywhere; omniscience, the divinity must have permanent and eternal knowledge concerning absolutely everything not only with respect to the past and the present, but also the future; omnipotence, the divinity must necessarily be all powerful, capable of anything and everything without reservation; and, the divinity must be omnibenevolent, all good without a trace of evil or negativity.

Other religions, more ancient religions as well as contemporary religions have been more realistic.  Deities, where they existed, were just more powerful than humans albeit not omnipotent, especially when they were plural.  If not ubiquitously omnipresent, they were perhaps not bound by the rules concerning time and space that apply to us and could show up when least expected.  Omniscient?  Not at all, although perhaps they, or some of them, were more cognitively gifted, at least sometimes.  Eternal?  Nope, they somehow came into being, usually sequentially, and in most cases, eventually expired, although the expiration was sometimes temporary.  And omnibenevolent?  Hell no!  They were willful and selfish and prone to emotional outburst.  Hmmm, that all sounds a great deal like the Abrahamic YHWH.

Still, to be fair, omniscience and ubiquitous omnipresence would seem possible if one eliminates time and space, treating them as illusions.  If time did not exist, then eternity would be either irrelevant or merely a natural state.  Perhaps in that context, since nothing would really exist, omnipotence might also be possible although not all that potent. But omnibenevolence is subjective although, in the absence of time and space and anything at all (other than perhaps, a sentient singularity), it might well be either irrelevant or natural, there being no choices to make.  In the foregoing context, an idealized divinity such as that imagined in Abrahamic religions might be possible, but only until time and space arrived, only until decisions became, not only possible, but necessary, even if any such decisions were merely illusions.

So, where does that leave us? 

Perhaps pondering on the nature of quantic phenomena and how they might impact the foregoing.  As I understand it, everything and anything is possible at a quantic level, sort of like the concept of chaos where, rather than consider it a negative, chaos is merely the confluence of every possibility; however, quantic activation would require an observer which would create a sort of bootstrap cosmogony.  Kind of like the ones were it is the worshippers who create the worshipped.

Or would that involve cosmology?

_____

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2025; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet and aspiring empirical philosopher) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. Previously, he chaired the social studies and foreign language departments at the Eastern Military Academy in Huntington, New York. He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review available at Substack.com; an intermittent commentator on radio and television; and, an occasional contributor to diverse periodicals and publications. He has academic degrees in political science (BA, The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina), law (JD, St. John’s University, School of Law), international legal studies (LL.M, the Graduate Division of the New York University School of Law) and translation and linguistic studies (GCTS, the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta, cosmology and cosmogony. He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.

Reflections on Thanksgiving Day 2025

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I am drawn to the concept of giving thanks rather than asking for boons from the divine.  It was something I felt strongly at times of spiritual longing while I was still more of a traditional believer, times long gone.  I am still drawn to the concept, albeit in a more generic form while concurrently more specifically.  While reflecting on towards what and towards whom my thanks should be directed.

A deity is evoked by most for purposes of giving thanks on this holiday, at least in the parts of the world where I’ve lived, in Europe and in the Americas.  It is an Abrahamic deity worshipped by three antagonistic branches, Judaism, Christianity and Islam, and that deity is purported to possess five principle unique attributes.  He (the deity is identified as masculine for the most part) is eternal, he has always existed and will always exist; he is omnipresent, i.e., he is ubiquitous, concurrently everywhere; he is omniscient, knows absolutely everything not only with respect to the past and the present, but also the future; he is omnipotent, all powerful, capable of anything and everything without reservation; and, he is omnibenevolent, all good without a trace of evil or negativity. 

I guess, if we humans did not exist, if our world did not exist, the concurrence of such attributes might conceivably be possible.  But we do exist, our world exists, and evil certainly exists and, on this Thanksgiving Day, evil seems to predominate, especially in the so called Western World.  And that evil seems to emanate directly from the purported Abrahamic Holy Land in the Middle East.

Today and for many years, decades really, It has been difficult, actually, impossible for me to be thankful to that incoherent complex of attributes that purportedly constitute “our” deity.  Or to believe that such an entity exists.  The three attributes most impossible for me to reconcile are the “omnis”: omnipotence, omniscience and omnibenevolence.  When effective, logic, a premise based form of analysis that purports to lead to accurate conclusions, could accept an evil or amoral omniscient, omnipresent omnipotence; or, it could accept an omnibenevolent, omnipresent and omniscient but impotent reality.  But not the confluence of all three attributes.  In general, the logical exercise in which we claim to believe and which we use, or more accurately, misuse and abuse, rarely works because, when its conclusions are put to the test and fail, rather that reexamine the premises and the analysis which led to the deficient conclusions (as tested against reality), we rationalize and make excuses.  We do so with respect to our Abrahamic concept of divinity by introducing the concept of purported “free will”, an oxymoronic absurdity when its exercise is subject to horrific and perpetual punishment.

The Abrahamic faiths are, not surprisingly given the forgoing, fratricidal, albeit usually sequentially so.  And hypocrisy reigns among at least two of them, Christianity and Judaism, the polar aspects of Abrahamic religion with Islam, strangely, being the bridge between them but, frequently, the most despised, belittled and calumnied by the other two. 

Take Christianity for example.  It was purportedly founded by followers of a gentle and loving Hebraic Palestinian from the small town of Nazareth during its Roman era but in reality, the religion as it has almost always existed was the creation of a misogynistic Hellenized Jew, Saul of Tarsus who eventually used a more politically convenient Roman name, Paulus.  The original Nazarene variant was centered in a small communist community in Jerusalem led by a certain James, cognamed “the Just” and comprised of the original disciples and apostles of his brother, a certain Yešu (today Latinized to its Hellenic variant, Jesus). The bastard Pauline variant quickly deformed into a traditionalist hierarchical control mechanism used to accumulate wealth and power, so much so that it eventually became the official religion of the Roman Empire.  Today, “evangelical and other so called Christians have completely rejected the communist economic premises of the original followers of Yešu, in part, because of the distortion of a statement by the founder of modern communism, an atheistic Jew, Karl Marx, to the effect that “religion was the opiate of the masses”, a statement contextually related to Marxian dialectic theory concerning economic evolution rather than to criticism of religion by which he meant that, at a certain point in economic history, religion was essential to survival making terrible conditions tolerable in the way that modern medications and medical treatments aid in our survival.  Through distortion and manipulation, modern Christianity, at least in the United States, has become the opposite of what Yešu espoused.  It has become a selfishly capitalistic, xenophobic philosophy apparently enamored of mass murder under the guise of capital punishment and perpetual war.  Judaism has also undergone drastic devolution with a significant component splitting off into an atheistic political Zionist variant espousing genocide, ethnic cleansing and even rape as a legitimate control mechanism for dealing with non-Zionist dissidence.  To those Abrahamic variants, Thanksgiving Day has become a de facto celebration of injustice, inequality and inequity, but that is something the original celebrants of the holiday in New England, the religiously intolerant Puritans would likely have ascribed.

That version of the Thanksgiving Day holiday, the one celebrated today, Thursday, November 27, 2025, is not one I can subscribe to, although I do enjoy some of its incidentals, like football games designed to draw our attention and energy away from our quotidian problems.  Thus, while in my moments of most intensely positive feelings towards divinity during a time long ago when I accepted the traditional Abrahamic version of divinity as possible, back when I gave thanks to “whatever gods may be” (a phrase from the poem “Invictus” by William Ernest Henley), today, my attitude is profoundly different.  Today, my thanks are limited to more tangible subjects.  To people I’ve known and to people I’ve never met but admire.  To those among the subjected and abused and downtrodden and tortured and maimed and killed who struggle to protect those they love and to stand for principles of equity and justice and compassion and generosity and peace, today something that applies most clearly to the Palestinian victims of Zionist genocide as it once stood for the Jewish victims of Nazi genocide, or to the Armenian victims of Turkish genocide, or to the indigenous victims everywhere of European genocide.  To all the economically deprived parents who work constantly to provide for their families as best they can.  To the Quixotic who struggle for “the right” against invincible odds, knowing that they themselves will never see the fruits of their labors.  But also to those who, for whatever reason, earned or not, I just love.  Those special people who were my classmates at the Citadel, and those fellow Citadel graduates who preceded and followed me, the same being true with respect to the now long departed Eastern Military Academy.  But also to my former students and colleagues everywhere. 

Today I give thanks to and for my family, especially my late mother Rosario and my late grandmother Juanita and my late aunt Carola.  To the many fellow travelers in the quest for a more equitable, more just, more peaceful, more compassionate, more peaceful and more loving world; those I know and who I can call friends as well as those with whom I am only acquainted and those who I’ve never met but who I know exist, have existed or will exist.

That seems a great deal for which to be thankful, even in these truly terrible times where orchestrated polarization for fun and profit regardless of the cost is the rule.  When the United States I love, indeed most of the Global North, is ruled from abroad by an ethics free elite.  Perhaps it always been this way.  But perhaps, the wonderful has always coexisted with the horrendous among the strange life forms who now refer to ourselves as humans.

So, … about the poem “Invictus”, one of my favorites.  It seems appropriate to close out these reflections by sharing it, albeit reformatted into a more narrative, rather than verse format:

Out of the night that covers me, black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul.   In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud.   Under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed.   Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the Horror of the shade, and yet, the menace of the years finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.

 
Thank you William Ernest Henley (1849 – 1903).

_____

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2025; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet and aspiring empirical philosopher) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. Previously, he chaired the social studies and foreign language departments at the Eastern Military Academy in Huntington, New York. He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review available at Substack.com; an intermittent commentator on radio and television; and, an occasional contributor to diverse periodicals and publications. He has academic degrees in political science (BA, The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina), law (JD, St. John’s University, School of Law), international legal studies (LL.M, the Graduate Division of the New York University School of Law) and translation and linguistic studies (GCTS, the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta, cosmology and cosmogony. He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.

Reflections on Poetry and on the Nature and Uses of Prayer

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Sam Hamill

It came to me as I read indigenous reflections written in 1976, almost half a century ago, by Arthur Amiotte, then an artist and teacher who lived among the Teton Sioux in South Dakota, that I have never understood the nature or functions of prayer.  Not strange given how few if any priests or pastors or rabbis have ever grasped them.  Prayer had always seemed superficial to me, ritual repetition of sounds directed at one or more beings to whom we seemed little more than insects, inferior objects to be scorned and disdained, albeit in a strange and twisted, masochistic way, loved as well. 

An observation attributed to a gentle Nazarene whom the Hebrews and perhaps the Romans may have tortured and perhaps hung or crucified has always made a great deal of sense to me: his suggestion that direct communion with the divine, without ritual or intervention, without prayer, was really the only legitimate and effective means of touching divinity but, reviewing Arthur Amiotte’s indigenous reflections, something I’ve been doing while concurrently reading the probably fictitious writing of Carlos Castaneda (fictitious not being synonymous with useless),  another alternative occurred to me.  Ironically occurred to me who, if not an atheist am at best a panentheist.  It came to me in the form of an epiphany: Prayer may well have a positive purpose but it is unrelated to the ritual repetition of sounds the meaning of which few really consider as they utter them, and fewer still understand. 

In that instant of epiphany, it came to me that ritual prayer does have a role and a meaning and a use and a purpose but that it is very different from the meaningless collective rote exercise that takes place on designated days at designated hours in designated places under the leadership of designated men and sometimes, although rarely, designated women.  It is, or perhaps, better stated, it should be, an isolated, personal reflective instrument that properly tuned and used can lead to introspection, contemplation, meditation and self-examination, all in a quest for insight, perhaps totally novel insight, and through such insight, to both elucidation and pragmatic solutions. 

That makes sense, or made sense to me; finally.  Prayers, correctly used, can be catalysts for internal communication in which, perhaps, a spark of the divine (if a spark of the divine exists within each of us, as some among the Gnostics tend to believe), may, at times, be present.

“Poetry” Sam Hammill (a great friend, a great poet and a great translator) once told me “is meant to be spoken and heard”.  As much as I admired him and still do (though he is long gone), I did not agree.  For me, reading poetry rather than listening to it permitted me to transcend the music of the words in order to wrestle with the layers of meaning involved, not all of them layers the author intended.  In that sense, it seems that poems are “written on mirrors”, i.e., they have different meanings for everyone who really delves into their depths based on the reader’s personal experiences, context and perceptions.  I’ve shared my observation with another poet I admire but who is as different from Sam, in many but not all ways, as two poets can be.  Sam was a big man, a former United States marine, with a booming voice, an adventurer in every sense, while the second poet, Carlos Mario Uribe Alvarez, is a fairly diminutive and soft spoken Colombian, but one who annually gathers poets from all over the world to declaim and share perspectives in the sky-high Andean city where I’ve now lived for almost two decades.  Despite their differences, as is the case with many poets, they both share a taste for variety in women, each of whom they love in their own way, and for strong intoxicants, whether drunk or inhaled. 

As it was for Sam, poetry for Carlos, at the numerous events he organizes, is an oral exercise.  I dutifully attend the readings performed by earnest and talented artists who have profound truths to share but I get little out of the readings.  Indeed, I’ve urged that each reading be preceded by contextualization and a sharing of the motives and reflections and introspection that gave birth to each poem presented.  Sam would have argued with me.  Carlos agrees, but seemingly superficially.

I now feel the same way about prayer after my epiphany.  But perhaps that’s just me.  Writing and reading call to me much more than does listening to prayers or poetic expositions.  Reading permits me to dive and delve and reflect while writing seems a means of communicating with my inner self, with the me who’s been and the me that may someday be, and perhaps, at times, with echoes and shadows of divinity that have made their way, if not to me, at least towards me.

Interesting.  But perhaps not novel except for those of us who have been long misled by Abrahamic delusions.  Perhaps my epiphany is an echo of something lost by those of us who have misplaced things that our ancestors understood well and perhaps used and perhaps some among us may still understand and practice it, albeit alone and in personal places in a manner such as that of which that gentle Nazarene once spoke.

Thoughts on a pleasant autumn day high in the central range of the Colombian Andes.
_____

© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2025; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet and aspiring empirical philosopher) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. Previously, he chaired the social studies and foreign language departments at the Eastern Military Academy in Huntington, New York. He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review available at Substack.com; an intermittent commentator on radio and television; and, an occasional contributor to diverse periodicals and publications. He has academic degrees in political science (BA, The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina), law (JD, St. John’s University, School of Law), international legal studies (LL.M, the Graduate Division of the New York University School of Law) and translation and linguistic studies (GCTS, the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta, cosmology and cosmogony. He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.

Of Butterflies and Bibles

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I’ve frequently wondered as to what motivated the inept linguist or translator who turned the word “flutterby” into “butterfly”.  That usually brings to mind (at least to my mind) the inept Catholic “saint”, Jerome of Stridon, who made a mess of his Latin translation of the Greek version of the Hebrew Tanakh.  Poor Lucifer, demoted by the purported saint from the Roman god of truth and light into a rebellious archangel and the patron of evil (a role that belonged to a Hebrew “entity” whose name was Hel-El).

Flutterby is obviously the correct term to describe the fluttering, flying insect, often beautiful, that has nothing to do with butter but is stuck with that appellation. I don’t suppose Jerome was responsible, he knew nothing of English, but who knows.  The absence of knowledge never stopped him.

And as to the “Latin” version of the Bible on which the St. James and other mistranslations are based, what can one say other than perhaps, …

… “Oy Vei”!

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© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2025; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet and aspiring empirical philosopher) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. Previously, he chaired the social studies and foreign language departments at the Eastern Military Academy in Huntington, New York. He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review available at Substack.com; an intermittent commentator on radio and television; and, an occasional contributor to diverse periodicals and publications. He has academic degrees in political science (BA, The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina), law (JD, St. John’s University, School of Law), international legal studies (LL.M, the Graduate Division of the New York University School of Law) and translation and linguistic studies (GCTS, the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta, cosmology and cosmogony. He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.

Reflections on a Conceivably Inept Creator

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Reflecting on religion this morning, specifically on the Abrahamic variants to which most of my religious friends adhere, friends I profoundly respect and generally find to be genuinely good people, it came to me that they appear to consider their creator inept. 

They obviously, albeit respectfully, consider the creator to have been incapable of creating a decent product.  Indeed, their worship is full of lamentations concerning how terrible they are and acknowledging that their deficiencies are inherent and unavoidable. Indeed, purportedly not a single one of the creator’s creations have been free from defects except, perhaps, for himself, as incarnated, but then again, can one really be one’s own creation?

Perhaps.

Don’t know why but Ford Edsels come to mind.

Anyway, “mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa” is an obligatory refrain by his creations when engaged in formal worship although, of course, logically, the “culpa” should really be ascribed to the entity, divine or otherwise, who designed such creations, especially if it was omniscient and omnipotent at the time.  Perhaps the refrain should more accurately be: “tua culpa, tua culpa, tua maxima culpa”.

Every time we criticize human fallibility, human frailty, the human proclivity to err against the divine will, we are criticizing, not only ourselves (the divine creation) but also the angelic supervision to which we are purportedly subject.  That concept of divinity posits not only an inept creator but one so full of hubris that it blames its errors on its creations, whether on us directly or on his angelic host, some of which also proved, let’s say … “deficient”.  Nephilim come to mind, as do their fathers.

Perhaps that explains the world in which we live, one where one branch of the Abrahamic faiths, the one involving the creator’s purportedly chosen people, engage, in the creator’s name, in genocide, massive and constant theft, justified rape, etc., (and not only recently, it’s a historical trend), and his more recent adherents in another branch, the Christians (originally Nazarenes and then Cristers) look the other way like the three famous simians who see no evil, hear no evil and certainly don’t expose any evil except with respect to whatever minor transgressions they themselves have engaged in, which they bemoan and chastise, … mainly on Sundays.

My reflections are, of course, blasphemous and heretical and somehow or other, probably evil.  Or, perhaps, the creator would agree that its followers are, perhaps inadvertently, being too critical of their creator.  Being very sensitive to any criticism (consider how it purportedly dealt with its archangel Hel-el, subsequently mistranslated by the abysmally ignorant St. Jerome as “Lucifer”; or how it dealt with almost all of its creations when, in a fit of temper, it drowned them all), … it may be worth reconsidering those aspects of its worship.  Just saying, …..

Still, as Elphaba Thropp, the purported wicked witch of the west, perhaps reflecting on YHWH or perhaps just on water, exclaimed with her dying breath in the 1930s version of the Wizard of Oz (the foregoing name is, however, as envisioned many decades later by author Gregory Maguire): …

“What a world, what a world!!!!”

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© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2025; all rights reserved.  Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution.

Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet and aspiring empirical philosopher) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. Previously, he chaired the social studies and foreign language departments at the Eastern Military Academy in Huntington, New York. He is currently the publisher of the Inannite Review available at Substack.com; an intermittent commentator on radio and television; and, an occasional contributor to diverse periodicals and publications. He has academic degrees in political science (BA, The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina), law (JD, St. John’s University, School of Law), international legal studies (LL.M, the Graduate Division of the New York University School of Law) and translation and linguistic studies (GCTS, the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies). However, he is also fascinated by mythology, religion, physics, astronomy and mathematics, especially with matters related to quanta, cosmology and cosmogony. He can be contacted at guillermo.calvo.mahe@gmail.com and much of his writing is available through his blog at https://guillermocalvo.com/.