Category Archives: symbols

you’re not supposed to, but you do it anyway: a study

you want to save the world and make use of the complicated. let’s bemoan and let’s be pathetic. let’s depress the objectively deflated and inflate the pathologically insane. figure eight shows you the picture of a duck with training wheels, carefully imagining itself in a world of mass hunger and rabid determination. we’re starving our flocks to write this story and so you should keep being inept and press the ‘donate now’ button. it makes me feel good when i tell you this; it makes you feel even better when you jump aboard this ideological 747 with me. i, you, them, we, deity. all fabrications, with green smokestacks, emitting a purple wave of eccentricity with a positive charge and forty-four days left to procreate. subliminal delineations, danger. squeeze, tighten, fortify, splendor. adapt.

what is the generation thunder that roars beneath your feat, you incredulous tiger of misaligned ubiquity. ask. question. depress. you test your capacity to enlarge by postulating the maturity levels of iron at seven, 4 and thirty-3 years. impossible is possible, just think about it… just make it possible. it’s insanity (all over) when i hear you yelp from across the road, asking for help, disguised in a matter-of-fact gluten-free substance, poised to penetrate. you wish to change, to manage, to massage, to exacerbate, to complicate, to memorize, to show frigid temperatures how to fake the orgasm of amorous professions. or maybe you want none of these things and all of them at once, a paradox among the living, a choice dilemma that confounds the unannounced forces of faux-finished material textures.

go, for yourself, for others, for the benefit of the corrupted few who hold power, devour powder, speak louder, excrete madness and impose the word “rather.” how do you echolocate the entire sound alphabet, as it is spoken by a demented goat, born out of wedlock, its original creator a combination of an acidic substance and an opulent fissure of the most pernicious (but promiscuous) existence. light is a ray and if photos are edible, your subconscious and maniacal tendencies and contrived proclivities can all continue taxing the willing, at the expense of increasing your exposure to risk-free ultraviolet machinations. print, copy, x.

ambivalence is an investment, a radical departure from the convenient features of yesterday, a realization that tomorrow will undertake to completely water-down your nightmares while accentuating your dreams to the point of an introverted culmination of fat-free lipids and kleptomaniac-like reward schemes. but you continue, you continue along the predetermined path of your ethically challenged 99-meter sprint towards dystopia. or perhaps i have become more adept at storytelling than you used to be. possibilities are exponentially raised to import suspicion, but in your case, you infer speculation, add hyperbolic sensationalism and remind your opponent that within the farce that exists the orifice of comedic brilliance, there exists something that is not only available and you can call your own, an offspring, a progeny of mild-mannered motivators, but something that none of us can ever internalize, even if by means of employing harsh light and enlightened inconspicuousness.

my solutions are equally blunt. i can repackage hysteria and resend it. i can .pdf your mannerism and send it back to you, equally possible, especially when reply-all stares the effects of destiny directly in its jealous (and esthetically morbid) face. you have chosen out of a lack of choices. you have created your demise by failing to foresee possible (and expected) alternatives. and now i wish to implode and sideline my own detrimental (to your health) -isms for the sake of procuring a toothless lion, enclosed in a hamster cage, with the same help mode as a surrogate 19th century barn fly.

car keys. please.



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the star without any end points, a circle in disguise

ready, set, go. attack, pant, begin to flaunt, oh my – is that kant? seriously. go fetch, go play, go emotionally decay. this blister is a complete disaster and someone just called me over to start the other side of their intricate project called casper. what a scene, full of fluffy fluffs fluffing about, can you believe such ignorance, i can’t tell you how happy i am to have experienced another way to lament. oh, continue, don’t abrogate, dictate, dictate…

[scene one]

[a small-ish rat occupies a space. a grandiose entrance, provided by some ill-advised sponsor, is entertained by a piece of cheese…]

[l… c… a…]

[“hello,” yelps the larger of the two. “perhaps you can guide me to your destination,” continued the belligerent, but this time with more gusto and perhaps even more empathy. i left the two alone to mingle and directed my attention to more pressing trifles, like the platter of duck confit that had arrived, just in time for the wetting of my palate. before i could ingest the floral display of apathetic violence, reconstructed for me by a magician of gastronomic “ooomph,” tragedy had struck. the legal person they called cheese, a blotched, half-empty placeholder, had already, rather desperately, forced its way into a container. it was hiding from the disaster. to spill more acid onto the intimately cancerous scene, monosyllabic doctors, competing for their own cubed foot of oxygenated diarrhea, all kept pushing alongside my leg without excusing themselves, perhaps on purpose. this entanglement further contributed to the pandemonium. the cheese was nowhere to be found by the true authorities and the obvious was lying naked on the floor, suffocated by the pungent smell of an unclassified piece of cheese…]

[this became, of course, a case no longer worth trying, never mind in front of a hot fudge, otherwise known as a fissure between an already widening gap; it is because of such influences that innocuous proper, playing with fire, will often burn at the same temperature as ulterior motives begin to congregate at.]

[r.i.p. rat, 547 grams, four inches tall, 11:43AM to 13:00PM]

there is an exclamation mark that gains perspective whenever you approach it with such sense of appreciation that your decoy is deconstructed the moment it senses and if containment is not preferred, it will also eat significantly more.




and again,

speech broke the silence, all too soon.

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I definitely need to get myself a bigger jar in which to urinate. [A SECOND ATTEMPT]


Surprisingly, or rather incredibly, I did not have to blame myself this morning for wetting my bed – it just happened. Naturally, the consequences were always relevant. However, incoherent ignorance kept itself in-play for long enough to allow my conscious to regain temporary control and, once all of this sustenance shenanigan took flight – into God knows what dimension – I got my slippers and went to the washroom.

On my way to the release, I noticed something uncomfortable about my left arm. It wasn’t that I have never seen this appendage before, but just that it stuck out like a monster peeking from under my bed. On purpose, I forgot all about this nonsense and continued my journey. I had to get a smaller apartment, I reminded myself, while shuffling my feet without realizing it. Soon, I got tired and did not feel like visiting that repository of sad memories. I turned around. Was it really already noon? It really is incredible how life ticks and tacks and all I have to show for it is a careless shuffle that, if you were to ask me yesterday, is really nothing but an attempt at recuperating what has already been done. And now, I remembered the soiled sheets and the impossibly far walk back to my room.

Thirty minutes later, I find myself standing in front of my dilapidated single mattress, absorbing the ammonia that had begun to befriend the friendlier of the more contemporary air molecules. It was uncomfortable, a decision to continue felt like a move towards embarking on a belligerent journey without any remorse or mercy. Adding to the list of faux-pas ingredients, the cancerous and blatant reality that stood erect before me, had already acquired a sort of look on its face that only sterile commercialists would have been able to understand. I took the entire transaction as a patronizing exercise in playing dumb… the imminence of a future purchase being, for the most part, a determinist component of my free-agent existence, all bundled up in gift-wrapping and ready for shipment. It is not that I was shy or that I had retraced my steps so as to reconsider. That I certainly did not.

I jumped, eyes closed, straight into the deep end. Warmth was to be expected. The whole experience, from tail to head, was nothing but uncompromising. My tired set of deprived follicles, fortified by the loosely hung smug-like smile on my face, provided the entertainment the entire time – depression was circumvented and the closing ceremony promised salutations of a high enough degree to justify torture. I also have to add that it did, however, feel surreal… like I had just gained forty-three pounds in one sitting and didn’t even bother to make a genuine note of what had transpired in my telephone book. Either way, while suspended in mud, crawling uphill, screaming, kicking, discouraging profanity but really failing heroically, it all ended. It all ended. I wiped the sweat off my forehead with my suspicious right forearm and made myself proud by piling the remains in the corner for ‘another time’ – same genome, different species – to concern itself with what would happen next.

And then the phone rang. It did sound like the voice of a man who was liked, but certainly not by many. Maybe. This incredible tempest of pent-up-ness, came through with so much assertion and certainty, that I felt comfortable enough with my own demeanor to continue the conversation. He asked why I was naked. It all felt strange. In anger, I addressed my trespasser with an even more unlikely answer. “My washer is broken and I have nothing to wear.” This apparently concerned me more than the man on the other side of the temporary but dyslexic chaos. After silence was interrupted by a slight inconvenienced sigh, I became so disengaged with what this creature of promises had to say that I simply lowered the item into which I was previously speaking onto the table on which it was geographically located and walked out of the room in which my person was previously compelled to enter into.

Clothes. Where was I going to find clothes for today’s adventure? The floor provided a wide array of options, choices and half-stale alternatives that really didn’t hydrate my palate to such an extent so as to convince me to make exceptions. I was adamant by now that the only possible items of clothing that I felt even slightly ambivalent about wearing today were going to be the ones that I was going to purchase in the immediate future (perhaps a future more immediate than distant), right after I showered and ate a small but no less nutritious breakfast. The thought of where I was keeping the fridge aside, what made this decision even more salient and perhaps solidified my desire to distance myself from this excruciatingly warm establishment I called ‘my home,’ was the obvious reality that I now had to enrich others for my own mistakes. On the one hand, the necessity for new sheets made sense, they were not going to be reused, especially not while my washer was hopelessly out of order for a time undefined. But the clothes? Why the clothes? They were an unnecessary added extra, an unfortunate and spontaneous irrelevancy that left the conundrum unresolved, for I had yet to shower, breakfast-up, find a solution to my mad intransigency and also take my life off hold. Or, possibly and with little shame, confront the famous philanthropist that just rang, with the sort of unfettered desire that even married nuns have difficulties with.


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hra – better than nothing? and has the EU really made a difference?

the herd, lining up

hra – better than nothing? and has the EU really made a difference?

– what does that tell you about how much the HOME OFFICE (a creation of some prime minister or another – i think in this case it was his royal tony-ness that transgressed) really cares about the HRA

– in my personal and humble opinion (yeah right ;)), the answer will tend to be “not really that much”

– they are constantly entertaining a state of complete apprehension, a state of being that paralyzes their foresight and continues to entertain the grossly inappropriate blinders-on effect that has been the status-quo for way too long in this nanny-state of a country

– i guess the thought of queens, kings and KINGDOMS conjures up warm and fuzzy feelings of slavery and repression with its gardens of evil and sand castles of hardship for the promotion of the social collective, the nation and the prosperity of the PUBLIC (and the PUBLIC’S GOOD)…another deep-throat anachronism that even my grandmother has stopped paying attention to…

– everyone is hiding behind the ‘public good,’ while we, the voters, the deciders, want accountability

– but really, when the closet monster makes a boo-boo, s/he blames it on the need to promote the public good, or some other utilitarian smith-slash-mill-like hit-and-run argument.

[note: the above happened ‘on the fly’ or ‘in the moment’ and its contents are unaltered so as to not entertain an adherence to certain unfounded and unjustified standards of expression or formalities that only restrict the audience slash reader to a given matrix of possible interpretations. art, a creation, a process.]

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sixteen hours of my life: walk, bus, train, tube, plane, car

british airways
(c) – jonezi06

The 7:16 AM to 12:05 AM ‘walk-bus-train-tube-plane-road-trip…’

7:16 AM

Fuck. Already? Shut up!! ZzZZz… Snooze button one more… Time. Ugh, here we go…

My email to Rob at 9:12

“So I woke up this morning to some whistling, banging and even more frightening (correction made here…), the sound of labour being put to good use. In other words, someone came and washed our staircase, including a complete garbage run.

Initially I thought that some bum was bathing in the riches of others, but to be honest, once I saw (correction – saw not was) Aunt Jemima busting out the Mr. Clean and the super sized bucket, I was sold.

On the train to Marylbone now, catching the rush hour buzz with Dr. Prakash and his many minions slash clones.”

9:30 AM

Chiltern Railways has just introduced a new ticketing system that allows customers to exploit the infrastructure we all refer to by its first name: technology. About time, (insert rolling hills comment here – but after the next station). I purchase my e-ticket online and Chiltern sends me an SMS with a link to a website. The matrix barcode that is found on that website then gets scanned by a man wearing a highly fluorescent suit, who says he works for ‘them.’ Notwithstanding morals, the effect of having your blackberry scanned by ‘Mr. InSharge’ is rather impressive. Did everyone just get off? Or did they just moved away from my spatial presence?

12:05 PM

London Underground. British entertainment is awful in general, but the exception to this rule is their love-affair with this midget-sized-human-carrying-loaf-like buggy, that they baptized the ‘tube.’ Common courtesy needs not be adhered to when riding the rails. Shove, contain, pick, tickle, stare, yawn, poke, cajole and if you can’t muster enough courage to contain your mischievous side, entertain a local favourite and discard a-la-open-air, a fart.

And now I must continue to nurse the gratest-good-for-the-greatest-nunber-myopian-horseraddish-served-chilled-and-on-a-vidictive-broodje bullshit, inter alia, otherwise to be referred to, from now on, as the bump on my head that I got while peace-keeping a wild game of undress the genetically modified pony in South Kensington.

2:04 PM

The exhaustion is obviously starting to set in. I asked a man if (and if, where) a Pret-a-Manger exists at Heathrow T4 and he surprisingly managed to process my nonplussed babble and output a reply. “Yes, just make your way down that hall and turn left at WHSmith.” I followed his directions religiously, but my atheist nature still circumvented my one and only chance at lunch. I got lost, in an acorn shell, only to find myself face to face with a Pret employee, condescendingly and contemptuously staring him down. I am adamant about my gastro-intestinal preference for Posh Cheddar and there was no way on planet Francaise that I was to forego such digestive pleasures.

Initially, I went in search for food due to hunger. That however, and much to my surprise, did not last long. After I had to tisk-tisk this woman at the self-check-in counter, who was waiting for Summer to come around before selecting a seat she would be comfortable in (note to woman: economy class discriminates equally), I lost it. Anger does wonderful things to human beings – including accentuating my pre-hunger to the extent that it became starvation.

I almost forgot about security. What motherless inferior thought that neurons are best fired in the wrong direction(s), and invented a ‘body scanning device?’ The hell is a ‘body scanning DEVICE’ (Insert a further analogy here, an additional digression, on human relationships, sex and body scanners)? What really worries me is that the now archaic ‘scanning’ devices, left to rot in the underbelly of the Tate Modern, were also intended to explicitly ‘scan,’ implicitly ‘a body.’ I don’t want to talk about anachronisms, but such is technology; giddy to go to the park, but when it gets there, none of the kids want to play with it, or even worse, call it ugly. But enough about the Western imperative.

(Allow for the ingestion of a Venti Latte with an extra shot, here).

4:31 PM

A stuffy bus. British Airways, I hereby declare war. Let me start with the unacceptable first. You simply do not smile and say ‘Right this way,’ before you ask two hundred of your most loyal (and paying) customers to board a bus that will (naturally) take us to a plane that still requires fuel, a crew and a final baggage check. I understand your impatience, but please accept the reality that my patience lacks discipline and that the next time you keep me locked up in a bus, like a gladiator before a scrap, I will unleash my pugilistic proclivities…period.

Secondly, the clapping of my hands right now is an act of acknowledgment. By upgrading the Iranian family that was sitting next to me, to business class, I managed to escape being subjected to the limited English lexicon, of the patriarch sitting to my right. ‘My bag,’ repeated every other four seconds, does not only compel a mind numbing stupor, but it also allows for the summoning of gentle but insidious voices, in my head, telling me to create a positive space around my intentions or else unleash the seventeen legged virus and be done with it. Ah, life [with(out] for now…) geriatrics!

8:27 PM

I absolutely hate being stuck in a sardine can for this long. There are benefits, however. Firstly, the sunset I just experienced is angelic (and I don’t even subscribe to The Religious Times). Secondly, you can watch people sleep, which, I won’t lie, is quite scary. Seat 35D had some slobbering, while 37A, a neighbour, looked more like a pretentious warrior princes from the 16th century than the 33-ish year old man that he was (or still is rather). It is comforting to realize that the lower-back pain, that is imposed on you when you are cleared to fly, can be temporarily relieved with a little wishful thinking (see chapter one, page three of book seven, entitled ‘on my way to the washroom, at 30,000 feet) and some red vino (which the two girls who are sitting 20 degrees and 41 degrees east of me respectively, seem to have fallen in love with). Actually, on that last thought, I’m going to ask one of them what else she has fallen in love with over the duration of this flight; I might even get an opportunity to finish ‘on my way to the washroom’). We’ll see…

8:40 PM

Blah, blah, blargh. I feel like an enslaved camel awaiting emancipation via an Ottoman Letter of Intent. Ewan McKendick’s ‘Contract Law’ is positioned right in front of me, ripe for picking, but it looks like the only person who didn’t eat enough is my neighbour. She’s from Mauritius.

10:51 PM

We’re landing in 30 minutes. I have managed to keep myself on the road for almost 16 hours, covering terra firma by foot, surface rails, underground rails, bus, plane and…that’s it actually.

The descent has now begun and everyone is overcoming their anxiousness with the reality that in a few more minutes, Toronto will be scraping the bottom of their feet. As for myself, I’m exhausted. The amount of work that I have to keep myself preoccupied with over the break, seems rather overwhelming but not impossible. Focus, keep focused.

Customs and baggage: I don’t want to talk about it. Fucking moppets. Anyway, I’m tired, irritated and out of energy. We’ll confabulate later and further discuss the intricacies of public transport in a market economy.

Ah, it’s good to be back, but I’m not sure that this place can still be called home…

Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange.

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foreign panic attack / asymmetry // (!) invading space

can the sound of space create a rich ultimatum of flowerless super-impositions? i spoke too loudly. and unfortunately woke up the person next to me. showering. deep space offers rehabilitation but somehow inconveniences. i feel incomplete and sadly depressed. and then.

the magic number appears again. as if to silence my immediate discomfort, these two digits delicately and with carnal superiority, force their way into my abstract form. i am forced to give up the battle. the fight however, continues.

the critters have surrounded me. i am fickle and can’t remember pain. the coarse chains tied around my neck have rusted from the overabundance of blood that supplies their chaos. define powerlessness. rephrase the moment of freedom and retrain my extroverted nervous system. endocentric phases of liminality approach but disappear sooner than later. it is impossible to explain. fantastica.

“today,” she regurgitates, “we were offered an ultimatum.” the sound of desperation begins to tighten the skin surrounding my vertebrate body. as it self implodes, the complete collapse of my depleted blood vessels excise my body of consciousness. rinse. repeat.

“the conditions of that ultimatum require us, the captors, to return to planet earth what we have stolen from them: this mortal criminal before us. they want the fiend alive and in seven days.”

uproar. insurgency. mass hysteria. an apocalyptic frenzy. and then the verdict.

“to this provocation we answer,” and with a final grunt, the empress yelled “let there be war.” i collapsed. death was imminent. traumatized from the drug-induced convulsions, i slipped into an eternal trance, the voice within me whispering nothing but useless encouragements.

property rights. //conjugating tragedy// copyrighted (c) life-forms. biological digressions (^). capitalism reasserted. acephalous +$ beheadings. the space, the first frontier, imperialism ##.

the end —

*whether this does or does not make sense, it was not my intention. what i had in mind was something different. wait. what did i have in mind? you read it. you make up your mind…

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eu series: hegemonism – an eu love affair

Enlarging the European Union to include “new” member states is an ambitious and fascinating political project. Controversy however, does exist. Expanding the EU is an ideological exercise that strives to provide the impetus for the spread of neo-liberal market policies as well as other fundamental “democratic” concepts that may include a commitment to human rights, rule of law, transparency and elements of consociationalism. It is a function of reality and pragmatic constraints, that not everyone and not every political agenda can be accommodated.

Our Choice Is Peace?

The difficulty with failing to provide political outlets for those parties that may find themselves on the extremities or fringes of the political decision making process may find other means by which to manifest their grievances, often times using methods that have been captured by those terms such as “corruption,” “illicit” and “shadow” or “under- ground.”

As the EU looks to the East and the Balkan states to provide future economic markets, cheap labour, intellectual and natural resources, geopolitical advantages, as well as other strategic dimensions that make up the EU’s own “manifest destiny,” it is imperative if not counterintuitive and potentially catastrophic politically, if no measures are taken to accommodate the uniqueness of local and regional problems as well as solutions. The EU has systematically confused accommodation for supremacy and top-down “dictatorship” in key areas such as energy security, foreign policy and corruption. A failure to rethink accommodation in the EU may have history repeat itself with “second revolution” being a potential consequence.

The harmonization of local “laws” with the EU’s body of laws, otherwise known by the catch-all phrase, acquis communitaire, is bound to introduce a remapping or shifting of both political and economic actors. New winners become losers while old losers may find themselves on the other side of the spectrum. To reiterate the above is not to introduce something new, quite the contrary. Political and economic actors are constantly in flux. Traditionally, power sharing is explicitly desirable and opposition healthy; competition, or the antagonistic interplay between two parties competing for a limited-supply resource produces beneficial economic and “political” byproducts.

With the end of the Cold War and the disintegration of the Soviet regime, East Europe had been left without a governing hegemon. Criticisms aimed at undermining Soviet rule can also be applied to East Europe’s new hegemon, the European Union. East Europe and those living in East Europe have probably turned to the West in search for a panacea solution to their internal political and economic chaos. If freedom from Soviet-rule was, in retrospect, presupposing a departure from “colonialism” and “quasi-sovereignty,” looking forward, EU-rule will be a restoration of the very same things Eastern Europe was expecting to free itself from.

Commonplace energy rhetoric is often bundled with a normative pursuit of democracy. Rather alarmingly, EU’s energy commissioner, Andris Piebalgs, made explicit that “[t]he best way to create EU energy security is to export market economy values to suppliers such as Russia and the Middle East.” By throwing its political and economic weight around, the EU is trying to reconcile the uncertainty that is “foreign” or “alien” approaches to governance with their own version of market economics. If the EU’s is not prepared or willing to negotiate with players outside their geographical and ideological borders, what sort of example is that setting for the newly accessed East European countries, as well as those to be accessed, Romania and Bulgaria, in January 2007. To proceed with caution would be an understatement.

Furthermore, as an example, Germany and Poland have “failed to see eye-to-eye on the second major issue of energy, with the Polish leader sticking to his opposition against Germany’s plans to build a direct gas pipeline to Russia under the Baltic Sea, bypassing Poland.” This is, again, certainly nothing new. Anyone, with even the most limited background in history understands, not just as a result of World War II, but previous historical events as well, that Poland sovereignty is a sensitive issue for many Poles. To bypass such sovereignty, in this case the justification being that Germany must secure energy supplies and Russia is an appealing as well as suitable supplier, is to yet again, reinforce what has just been previously been said that the EU simply cannot dismiss the unique local socio-political make-up. To have German Chancellor Merkel offer to a “branch from the pipeline to Poland,” allowing for the possibility of a “valve-shut-off,” a-la Ukraine during early 2007, stands to prove the German approach as being unilateral and for the most part, politically ignominious.

Poland has voiced, through President Kaczynski, their sovereign desire to achieve energy security through “supply diversification,” a policy and initiative that includes a commitment by the “Western” countries through the “linking [of] energy grids” and the “enshrining of principles at the [EU] treaty level.” It is without doubt that given the latest rounds of accession, the EU has observed an increase in oil and gas imports and consumption. These rates stand to further rise, as the newly annexed countries have “weak internal hydrocarbon production.”

With the Baltic States looking to “reduce the number of Russian investors for historical and geopolitical reasons,” and the EU seeking to secure policy that is founded on treaty law (something that has yet to happen) with Russia, it will be interesting to observe the extent to which supra-national interests will trump national ones. Vladimir Putin has already expressed his concerns over allegations that Russia has continued to transgress human-rights law (for some a jus cogens principle), stating that Russia did not invent the word “mafia.” Whether or not that stands to be of any significance, it not only reminds the EU of its own past corruption scandals and political malfeasance, but rather antithetically speaks of the hypocrite nature of the disparity between EU practice and EU foreign policy. To provide examples, France’s experience with Jacques Chirac’s sloth during his tenancy as mayor of Paris, as well as the 1991 “Lafayette Deal” between France and Taiwan, both speak for the reality that is corruption and the exploitation of office for personal gain, with different repercussions and consequences for different countries.

In addition, British Euro-skeptics often find it extremely difficult to reconcile the benefits of the current status-quo that is EU’s civil-law legal system, with the UK’s traditional common-law system. EU Criminal Law overrides national provisions, regardless of opposition from local governments. All breaches of EU law are subject to sanctions that can be imposed by the EU Commission, an un-elected body in Brussels, which also has the right to propose and define what those criminal sanctions will be by definition (with a majority vote of Council of Members needed).

The above is an example of how as a supra-national institution, the EU is not always making unanimous decisions or implementing policy that is accommodating of all. It would be dangerous to make such an assumption by implying it. While current governments of the day can be said to be pro-EU, opposition and dissent do exist, even within veteran states, at both political and civil society levels.

Questioning EU’s future prospects is an exercise bound to introduce arguments from both Euro-skeptics as well as EU proponents. However, given current “policy” approaches that adopt measures more akin to imposed dictatorship, dissatisfaction either from old member states or newly accessed member states is bound to, in the future, undermine the traditional EU objective of uniting to reinforce national commitments that provide and oversee all “essential services” – as dictated by accompanying political mandates.

The EU constantly echoes those principles on paper. In reality, the truth points into other directions, directions that are not “consociational” or “accommodating” in nature, but rather disappointingly, the opposite.

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