Livingstone realized that the slave trade could not continue apart from Africans’ own participation in it. When slave raiding was the way to wealth, the temptation was always present to raid weaker neighboring tribes, which made life perilous for all but the most powerful. Only if the Africans could be persuaded to support themselves in other ways, to engage in legitimate commerce, exchanging the products of their own fields and forests for those desirable things the whites could supply, would the evil and destructive commerce of slavery be brought to an end. That, at any rate, was Livingstone’s conviction, a central part of his dream for Africa.
The road almost always does lead somewhere, and that the destination it leads to is less important than the process of making it.
Reklam
Farkettiğim ilginç bir şey var. Biz şehitlerimizin arkasından ne deriz? Veya şehitliklere ne yazarız? “Sizi Asla Unutmayacağız!”. Batıda “We'll always remember you.” “Sizi Daima Hatırlayacağız!” diyorlar, 'Daima hatırlamak' 'Asla unutmamak'tan daha iyi değil mi?
But hold up for a minute: who is this “we” that’s always turning up in
critical writing? We is an escape hatch. We is cheap. We is a way of simultaneously sloughing off personal responsibility and taking on the mantle of easy authority. It’s the voice of the middlebrow male critic, the one who truly believes he knows how everyone else should think. We is corrupt. We is make-believe. The real question is this: can I love the art but hate the artist? Can you?
When I say “we,” I mean I. I mean you.
Well, we don’t always look for comfort when we read. Sometimes we have to read uncomfortable, difficult books. Sometimes those books are the very ones that inform our intellectual and emotional growth.
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