Adonis Diaries

Why blogs appoint “moderators” for censuring comments? Censuring of free expressions is applied in social platforms?

I am plagued by this problem: blogs subscribe to mine and urgently ask me to publish in their blogs and then I have to face “moderators” to allow my posts and even comments to be published.  And I wondered: “What’s the point of appointing moderators unless your intention is to screen out expressions and opinions not framing well within “political” views and purposes?”  Mind you, a blog will be restricted to poems and yet moderators will banish your poems on political grounds! I had to suffer this ridiculous anomaly and indignity and had to published my experience.

Before posting my recent experience with social platform censorship, let me repost my prior experience with “Poetic”  censorship

I published a liberal translation of an epic poem by late Syrian poet Mohammad al Maghout.

I gave it the title “Face-off:  Gilgamesh and the Storm”.  It was written over 30 years ago; way before Desert Storm on Iraq in 1991 or the recent 2003 invasion.

I was invited by a new site, with only four members, to contribute poems.

After “approving” a dozen poems and commenting laudatory on them, the “administrator” or “moderator”  in other sites amazed me by demanding clarification on this particular poem:  He wanted to know if this poem refers to American soldiers! First, it might relevant to read the poem to comprehend my dismay.

“Waiting for the storm to hit

How could anyone cope with a storm?

What could you do in a desert storm?

Where is the storm?

It is on the horizon, hesitating;

A tramp at the hotel entrance.

Old eagle Gilgamesh, maybe the last of his species,

Lonely, quiet, waiting for the desert storm;

A chauffeur waiting for his master.

Old eagle is tired of tasting occasional serene clouds;

An old chef tasting the remains of a banquet.

Queen storm is taking her time in front of the mirror.

Old eagle is ready to chase out the storm up front;

What could he do with a worn out beak?

Decrepit and turned straight from frequent shattering to pieces on rocks.

How could old eagle hurry to meet the storm?

A tottering bicycle crossing river bed?

For years, old eagle’s white feathers have been dirty;

Dirtier than an old waiter’s apron.

A gentle breeze nudging old eagle from rock to rock,

From plain to plain;

A bored old soldier in a camp

Anxious for his last battle, confronting a fly.

A soothing breeze floated over old eagle;

He fluttered, a youth touched by the first girl.

Old eagle heaves a sigh; he is reminiscing youth

Strong wings spanning the valley, glittering with sweat.

Tiny birds, out of breath, trailing valiantly behind,

Mobs running after the King’s horse,

Chants hoarse, hallelujah feeble.

Old eagle is back dozing, in the scorching sun;

Epoch stretching out.

Suddenly, the universe blackened;

The world is still;

So still that the silence created religions out of fear;

Old eagle’s tail is waving.

Old eagle is hopping in circle;

A baby lamb welcoming its mother.

The storm thundered and hastened;

An ice skater showing off.

Old eagle is whispering an old victory song;

An eagle fallen off mountain tops,

A bride with no pendants and no cries.

Old eagle opened his old beak and retreated

In respect of his old master and teacher.

Old eagle is spinning amid his broken plumes,

His shouts clacking like rifle bullets

A mass of blood proudly lecturing

On the art of thirsting and ripping apart enemies.

The storm danced around old eagle and sneaked away.

Old eagle is mad; he is jumping cat-like;

A frightened baby stumbling for the door knob;

A drunkard coming back in the bar

Kicked out a hundred times and coming back.

Old eagle is wailing like a baby.

The storm lost steam on the sea-shore,

Medals and crowns scattered.

The bludgeoned face of a boxer;

A drunk washing his face.

Mighty storm is aching:

It recollects that a tiny creature fought to death.

Mighty storm is sprawled on the beach:

A monstrous tent shrinking to a headgear;

Tears dropping in eagle’s shape.” End of poem

I replied that this story is about the epic struggle of mankind against calamities; natural and man-made.  I insisted that the eagle does not represent a symbol to any State or tribe, religion, or any culture.

I had a mind to ask this tight administrator what, in the animal kingdom, is convenient for his imagination to confront a storm. I received no reply and the poem was not posted on the site.

Excellent poets perceive invariants in human history and rephrase them in indelible images.  Consequently, I changed the title according to the perception of this infamous site.

After approving another half a dozen of my poems, this non-poetic administrator felt beyond himself reading this poem: https://adonis49.wordpress.com/2010/09/12/puny-avatar-why-in-the-name-of-god/

This poem was approved, and then immediately, the site “suspended” me without providing reasons.

It is to be noted that the site never presented any constraints beforehand for joining or the kind of poems “satisfactory” to their “ideology”.

Now to the next moderator.  A blog subscribed to my blog.  I checked it out and left a comment on one of its pieces, and added a thank you note for patronizing my blog.

I went on with another developed comment on another piece that lambasted Friedman for his position on current undemocratic Israel political climate.

My comment was: “How many Mosques have to be burned down before Your blog consent that this is a trend in Israel political climate?  How many new colonies and settlements have to be built before your blog admit that it is becoming a cause to resistance and not just a consequence as you claim?”

I faced this statement: “Waiting for moderator approval before posting…”.  I immediately replied: “Why do you need a moderator to censure free expressions”?

Again, the same waiting for moderator green light that never materialized…