As the world is compelled to slow down for a few weeks or a couple of months, as the current pandemic makes hay, and as the days of the lockdown evolve into nights, the older folks might dust off the beloved turntable and unpack their hibernating long play vinyl records (LPs). They might select one of Miles Davis’ classic albums, perhaps, the Sketches of Spain, pour some wine, and lounge in an easy chair. While the liquor soothes their souls and Miles’ trumpet captivates their minds, memories of times past, when life was rather simple and less complicated, will soon sublimate their thoughts. It was a different time. So much more time for everything, and everyone were so different.
Yes, so different that the times appeared to emulate the beginning of Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities:
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”
As the lateness of the night, the numbing effect of the wine and the free flow of the jazz intertwine with the listener’s wondering mind, the contrasting images of yore and present collide in a spectacular frenzy. Images of moving traffic flicker between the past and the present. A traffic policeman from back-in-the-day is perched on a box in the middle of a busy intersection directing the action, with the law abiding citizens following his swiftly executed hand signals, as everything flows smoothly. The scenario from the present is in sharp contrast. There is total disregard for the technology of traffic lights or traffic etiquette, pedestrians cross willy-nilly, pedal cyclists and motorcyclists weave in and out of the haphazard lines of vehicles, narrowly avoiding collisions. Drivers of cars impatiently honk on their horns whilst those in trucks stew their teeth at the chaotic standstill. Nothing appears to be moving.
The listener’s mind is suddenly jolted as Davis blasts an uncanny solo – the subtle use of a small number of notes – from the track “Saeta.” It is intense and concentrated. He is suddenly catapulted into the Sanfermin Festival in Pamplona, Basque territory, courtesy of Hemingway’s The Son Also Rises. It is the Running of the Bulls. The runners, adorned in white shirts and trousers, complimented by red panuelos (bandanas) and fajas (sashs) and armed only with a rolled up newspaper are sprinting for their lives, chased by the bulls, who are actually being guided to the bullring for the days’ fights and their eventual demise. A runner stumbles. A bull stops, then menacingly charges upon the fallen runner who is frantically waving his newspaper, his only line of defence, his ultimate hope.
The track ends. The kaleidoscope of images begin to sort themselves in the listener’s mind. The people are still the same. Their value systems are no longer the same, now compromised for the worse. The quest for truth and right are no longer sought by the fabric of the society. Lies and half-truths, coupled with wanton lawlessness, are the preferred options of the day. Integrity has departed for safer shores, replaced by innuendo and falsehoods.
“Firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values,” is the dictionary’s definition of integrity. Seth Meyers, in a column in Psychology Today, opts for simpler language, “Put another way, the root of integrity is doing the right thing even when it’s not acknowledged by others, or convenient for you. An individual with integrity is the antidote to self-interest.”
The upper echelons of the military, those who have had the honour and privilege of participating in advanced leadership training courses at the leading military colleges in the world are no doubt familiar with the host of quotations attributed to famous military leaders.
“The supreme quality for leadership is unquestionably integrity. Without it, no real success is possible, no matter whether it is on a section gang, a football field, in an army, or in an office,” opined Dwight D. Eisenhower, 34th President of the United States, and former General of the Army.
As the lockdown continues, and people become more glued to their television sets (reading is now a lost art), perhaps, during the inevitable rerun of old western movies, they might witness a man nailing “Wanted” notices on to trees and posts which will read,
“Wanted; Leaders, Ability to Make Tough Decisions, Integrity A Must.”
