A Tribute to Edgar Morin: The Light of Philosophy
Nothing can dissipate the clouds of my sorrow, allowing me to rejoice in the light of this dawn, which is nearing its end, except the cherished memories of the extraordinary moments spent in your company. From the very day I awaited your arrival at the Fes airport, accompanied by the cultural advisor from the French embassy, I felt that the spring of philosophy in Fes was more delightful than the actual spring season. I meticulously gathered each moment as if I were panning for gold, for one can only truly appreciate the magnitude of meeting you if they are a philosopher. The singular delight that brings us together is none other than philosophy itself, which makes life joyful and pleasurable by dispelling false opinions and purifying the soul from malice, hatred, and envy, thus allowing absolute joy and happiness to reign.
Our dialogue was profound and delightful; I preferred to remain silent and listen to your wisdom, gazing at your face as my spirits were lifted. In you, I recognized my mentor, the one whose home nurtured me since my youth, echoing Socrates' belief that "the unexamined life is not worth living." Upon our arrival at the conference center, lovers of wisdom awaited you, and we could not hide ourselves from the eager crowd. Everyone wished to capture a moment with you, and amidst the flurry of photographs, we implored them to postpone the photo session until the tea gathering and book signing.
The lecture commenced with an existential question: Can we live without philosophy? Can we exist without reason? Your wisdom resonated as you articulated, "It is reason that makes life happy and enjoyable, particularly in the Mediterranean basin. I analyzed the concept of 'Méditerranée' and suggested that as peoples of this basin, since we share a common mother, what defines our civilization is reason and philosophy. A philosopher's existence is but a moment in time, shrouded in uncertainty and obscurity, yet I perceived how students, professors, and philosophy enthusiasts surrounded you, fearful that you might slip away and leave them to confront their sorrowful fate. The philosophical inquiries and your responses continued for hours, and sensing your fatigue, we proposed to reconvene the next day, reminiscent of Socrates, who believed that philosophical dialogue should never end. After consuming the poison, he told his companions, "We'll meet again tomorrow." Did you extend the same promise to us? Is another meeting still possible?
The Eternal Quest for Wisdom
In our quest for the illuminating light of wisdom and the dawn of truth, we called upon you once more to Fes, the city of Ibn Bajjah and the capital of Mediterranean philosophy. You answered the call, and upon your arrival at the Fes airport, you were greeted, this time accompanied by the essence of your existence. As we embraced, you thanked me for the Ibn Rushd statue that had become a companion to you in Paris and inquired about your readers. We proceeded to the hotel for you to rest, and on our way, you shared tales of your encounter with the existential philosopher Martin Heidegger in the Black Forest, a fortuitous meeting that brought you solace, as you had served in the French army. The wisdom you imparted was invaluable, as you remarked, "Philosophers shape themselves through dialogue," before leaving me to await your return. My loyalty to that wait still endures.
I ponder in astonishment whether your departure, alongside Gianni Vattimo, a devotee of the spring of philosophy in Fes, is a loss for the Philosophy Friends Association and Ibn Rushd University, or perhaps a loss for the Mediterranean Morocco itself. In other words, will this philosophical gathering be repeated, or has it faded into nihilistic glory? It is cowardly not to acknowledge the crisis of the spirit we are enduring, as we have fallen victim to a commodification of culture that seeks to suppress and extinguish the spring of philosophy. I urge them to muster the courage to depart and allow philosophy to flourish each spring, for indulging in ignorance and wealth will only lead to a false history. The call of truth will not cease, no matter how long your tyranny endures. We will return, accompanied by those spirits that laid the foundations of rational renaissance in Morocco before the advent of nihilistic revival. If happiness is the practice of wisdom and virtue, then it must be the practice of the highest virtue, which is philosophy. It is noble to celebrate the great philosophers who have shaped our souls until we reach this level of critical thought: "Critical thought protects us from the evils of boredom, vice, and sacred ignorance; it transforms life into a paradise, and without it, this life becomes a hell," as we have often said in the presence of the philosopher of resistance, struggle, and eternal love; Edgar Morin, who carries his bag and visits his beloved in Fes, a city he cherished, preferring to reside in its ancient quarters over the luxury of the Garden Palace Hotel.
Those who do not recognize the name of truth are blinded by their distorted reasoning. Thus, spring has arrived, and the waves of philosophers congregate around it. Edgar once told me in a blossoming spring that I represent the beacon of Mediterranean philosophy. I host them every year, never complaining of a lack of resources, but rather struggling to secure hotels, restaurants, transport, and travel tickets. When faced with difficulties, I turn to the wise of Fes, seeking their assistance, and my requests are fulfilled. Not a year passes without Fes experiencing hunger, except after this tyrant and deceiver deprived us of continuity. It is a shame not to acknowledge this crisis; we wished to commemorate Edgar Morin, but the door of support has been closed to us. To his spirit, we owe the utmost recognition as the philosopher who ignited the spark of philosophical thought in the spring of philosophy in Fes. Peace be upon this spirit, which Socrates will greet with a smile, astonished by the news it brings to the islands of the blessed.
Because you are among the blessed, and your place is among the learned, "I guide you and guide those who receive this message from our brethren of this time and those who will come from the ages past." The essence of the farewell message is moving, drawing from the language of tragedy, which aims to purify the soul from sorrow and extinguish the longing for loved ones we leave behind, despite the shock of separation. "Perhaps I will not be able to meet you; as long as this body remains with me, I depend on it for our meeting because it carries the tools with which I move. If it departs from me, there will be no movement." This is the tragedy I fear in dreams and in wakefulness.
In this case, happiness is interpreted as the extinguishing of longing for those we love, even as it may bring joy to a political prisoner after embracing freedom and loved ones. Nevertheless, the transition from the tangible remains essential and is not easily discernible to those who have lost their inherent nature and belong to the ranks of the public, or the observers, that is, the scholars of this time. Deprived of their status as the blessed, they fail to benefit from wisdom, understanding, and reason. The reality is that there is no distinction between the wretched and the enslaved except in sleep; it is said that a truly happy person is the wise individual.
Thus, travel to the realm of the blessed has become nearly impossible in this age of triviality, from which existence has fled, wisdom has abandoned, and the decline of reason awaits the evening when the earth will crumble after being deprived of beauty, goodness, and love, leaving humanity devoid of its human essence. When we state that a person exists in the world, it means they exist in a place just as a chair exists in an office. As long as they no longer care about their existence, they bear the burden of existence within the depths of the mutual concern between humanity and existence, shaping the essence of happiness that one must live within intimacy. Happiness, in this sense, is not found in play and sensory pleasure, as mortal beings believe, but in the essence of existential anxiety that yearns to penetrate the fragility of truth, even by writing a farewell letter, like Ibn Bajjah, who rests in his grave in the city of Fes, gazing at the world from the window.
As reported by alquds.co.uk.
