The Rights of Squatters
The Rights of Squatters
By Punkerslut
"The finder of something which the owner was probably sorry to
lose, cannot take it up with the intention of withholding it
from the owner when he comes to inquire. But when the owner does
not appear, the finder has a right to retain it for himself."
-- Samuel Von Pufendorf, "The Rights and Duties of Man and
Citizen," Book 1, Chapter 13
I had always believed, before I was adoringly aquianted with
the philosophy of Humanitarianism, Rationalism, and justice,
that squatting ought to be a right, and not a privilege. To see
so many vacant houses, standing side by side like disease, and
to hear of so many unemployed and so many houseless as though
they were the worst lot of humanity -- to see the present state
of conditions as they exist, I had always believed that
squatting is a right. On the one hand, there is an army of
unemployed, houseless, starving, cold, freezing, without even
the least sympathetic touch of humanity, not reaching out
because of their pride, and they exist in the multitudes. And
nobody can be blamed other than megacorporations, whose assets
exist in the trillions. Trillions of dollars, I say! As a close
friend of mine tells me, in New York City, they can invest to
have enormous television sets sitting on the sidewalk, yet every
apartment is infested with vermin and cockroaches. We have
delapidated buildings, beggars on the street, homeless children
without even enough clothing to pass the decency laws. All this
misery, this poverty, and this crime! Oh, and of crime! What
shall I say of it! When men are grown up in an environment where
everyone around gathers their paycheck in the form of a
possessed wallet or a confiscated purse, where their fathers are
robbers and members of thieves guilds. Should we expect the
children to grow up any differently? Should you take a child
from the ghetto, and honestly ask him that he will grow up to be
the CEO of a megacorporation, only that the megacorpration will
be one that exploits and does nothing but destroy the
environment and violate the rights of indigenous peoples!?
Oh, what destructive, foul, cruel world has been wrought by
that thing which we have called greed, that interest of a few to
generate wealth!
Our children are raised in this environment, our adolescents
grow up in these schools, drugs become a commen part of life.
Crime, drugs, poverty, misery, these are not things that are
common parts of just life. These are common parts of OUR LIFE.
It is something that we must deal with EVERYDAY. It is not
something that we can escape.
Let us speak of crime. No man, who has held virtue as a great
thing, who has described justice as the most blessed of all
things, no man will ever condone theft. I agree. There is
nothing more unjust theft. That is to say, there is nothing more
cruel, thoughtless, and heartless than to take from one man what
he has earned through his hard, sweating labors. I admit all of
this. We are all in agreement here. But, there is something that
must be considered beyond this.
Then, consider a child who is born in the ghetto. Imagine that
he has no father, imagine that his mother is a crack-cocaine
addict. Imagine that his only education is avoiding truancy
officers and breaking into cars to steal CDs and coins. Imagine
that he turns fourteen years old. At this age, he starts selling
crack-cocaine. He starts selling reefer in the halls of a school
that he never attended for education. Imagine that he falls in
love with a beautiful girl, but she's of a different color. He
takes her dinner, and his enemies decide to deliver a surprise.
He is left there crying, holding her bleeding body, thinking of
what it was like for his mother to read his stories in bed
before she became addicted, thinking of the beautiful color of
her eyes before she was lying lifeless in his arms. At the same
time that he feels the death of her body, he feels the life of
her memory, and he refuses to let go. The drivebay was enough to
break everything he thought he knew about life.
Now let's consider another child. Consider someone who is born
in the wealthiest of familiest. He goes to school. He meets
friends. And among the students, he takes a particular liking to
a beautiful girl. He believes, in the sincerity of his heart,
that the mascara, the jewelry, the genetics that placed certain
features at certain places, was enough to make her beautiful in
his light. He decides "to go steady" with her. He falls in love
with her, and decides one day, in his college years, that he
will marry her. She throws her arms around him, and tells him in
all sincerity, that this is one of the most beautiful moments of
her. They spend hours together, spending time and going through
catalogues of marriage ceromonies. At the same time, the earlier
pair is preparing their funeral. The ghetto boy never had a
chance to propose to the one that he loved. All that he was
allowed was to look at a face that an undertaker did his best to
ressurect.
The ghetto child will continue his life, selling dope, and
trying to get on welfare. All his life, he will be wearing a
ring he obtained from a claw machine, and telling everyone that
he got it from his lover. Disagree with him, and he will be
incited to violence. He's walking down the street, selling crack
and marijuana to everyone who has the green for it. The sidewalk
is his turf. He feels the concrete underneath his feet as he
goes further in his life, and almost for a moment, he feels that
this will lead to the end of his life. A driveby comes by and he
ducks. His crew his hit. Big G, Master Tar, Mister Kill, all of
them go down. But with a keen eye, this one student of life
ducks. All of his best friends are hit in the most fatal wounds,
while he suffers a mere shot in the arm. Ambulence arrives. Not
something that is at all odd in this neighborhood. He is patched
up, while one of his friends is pronounced dead on the scene. By
the time they all arrive at the hosptial, he is the only one
alive. On one sad rooftop watching some story, still scarred
with a hosptial patch, and drowned in tears, he puts a gun to
the side of his head and pulls the trigger. He felt that,
without friends who have helped him in every way, there is no
point in life. With no family, there can be no life. This was
his creed. He lived by it. He died by it.
Take the child whose home was a towering skyscraper. Imagine
what he had to do. Imagine his life. He had to read the works
that his father put to him. He had to put to studies that his
tutor gave to him. He spent his time with useless physical
exercises. All day, he was trained. He was turned into
something. He was not an individual. He was turned into
something by his superiors. As much as it pains my heart, I must
say this: he was not much different than the ghetto child. No,
he did not search for dinner in garbage can. No, he did not hold
up liquor stores when he was drunk enough. No, he did none of
that. For all of his life, he was trained that everything he
does must have his father's consent. His life was very opposite
of the ghetto child. No, no, no.... While the ghetto child had
no father, the father of the corporate to-be CEO was
overimposive. He does not demand that his son does all that he
can, that he admire justice, that he gives some time to the
moment of tranquility. No, the CEO father demands more than
that. He demands that his son agrees to hate, that he looks the
other way at injustice, that he has no remand for the goodness
of mankind. Trying to console his position with friends, he
finds that they all must suffer the same distress, that every
parent who can will force his child to be the greatest that they
can be. A doctor, an accountant, a lawyer, a banker, all these
positions are forced on us, without our consent. All because
adults have this ideal that they can mold the world in their own
reflection.
So we find both of these children, the ghetto child and the CEO
child, homeless, on the streets of the United States of America.
It seems that the land of the free is also the land of the
poverty and the land of the cruelty. We, as free and independent
agents, have recognized our own rights, not by some old
document, not by some sacred scrolls, not by some absurd and
ridiculous religiion, but by the fact that WE ARE HUMAN, and as
such, we deserve the right to be in control of our own lives.
There are empty buildings occupied by no person.
There are people with no place to live.
This is not a liberal or conservative matter. It is matter of
justice.
Legalize squatting. And legalize it now.
THIS MATTERS TO US ALL
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