More hope for this New Year

One could argue that hope is part of all New Year’s resolutions, because they all entail wanting a better future for ourselves, for our families, for our communities, and for the world. Really, the essence of any New Year’s resolution is to experience hope for something better.” Jamil Zaki

“Their values and principles – don’t rely on anyone but yourself – gave hope to no one but them, while we dreamed of ‘another world” Annie Ernaux (The Years)

“Hold on to possibilities for life in circumstances that discourage hope” David Denborough  (Retelling the Stories of Our Lives)

Hope through different lens

Over the holidays I read a book review by Jill Sutie of Jamil Zaki’s book Hope for Cynics, which analyzes how hope is a better response to life’s challenges than cynicism. Zaki is a professor of psychology and the director of the Social Neuroscience Lab at Stanford University. His research supports that hope is “a more activating, muscular emotion than cynicism or despair, and that hope is necessary for focusing our efforts and creating positive change.” It is also argued that hope can be deliberately cultivated through our overcoming biases and

Zaki distinguishes hope from optimism, whcih is the belief that things will turn out well, which can often be a mismatch with reality. Hope he argues is the belief that things could improve and that we don’t know what the future holds, and therefore, our responses and actions matter. Hope is not about ignoring problems, but a way of facing and tackling problems. Hope also allows for envisioning a better future and is a good frame of mind for facing adversity.

As for the benefits of being hopeful, according to research findings, people who are hopeful versus cynical do better in many ways. Their mental health is better, their relationships tend to be stronger, and they tend to strive  and achieve more. They’re also more likely to engage in civic action and social movements. In the article there’s also reference to “hopeful skepticism”. Zaki argues that we often think that the opposite of being cynical is being gullible and naïve, believing that everybody is good until we get taken advantage of, but he clarifies that that’s not the opposite of cynicism because in reality cynics and gullible people  have more in common than we think.They both start with a conclusion, either that people are terrible or that everyone is good and decent, and then try to support this conclusion by only paying attention to whatever evidence confirms their belief or bias. Skeptics, on the other hand, avoid generalizations and think more like scientists. They don’t make quick assumptions about others and events, but try to find evidence about when, with whom, and in what situations they can trust and feel hopeful. This attitude seems to be far more adaptive.

In relation to the News, Zaki believes we would all be better off seeking websites that include positive news with news about real events and social problems, but also about people in communities striving to address those problems in creative ways. We can stay informed without  consuming sensationalistic, negative depictions of what’s happening in the world, not just because that’s not good for our health, but also because it’s half the story. Fear has replaced rational debate or empirical evidence and is used by those who seek to persuade or exploit or the insecurities and fears of people.

Finally, Zaki suggests that the best way to maintain hope. is to think globally, but hope locally, in other words, to focus on the parts of our lives and the world where we feel we have some agency and where our actions could make a difference.

However, important as hope may be for our individual lives and our communities,  it doesn’t come easy for many people. Poverty, oppression, trauma, and other factors, can affect one’s beliefs about the future through loss of hope and limited expectations about life, anticipation that normal life events won’t occur or even fear that life will end abruptly or early.  In Janna Fischer’s book, Healing the Fragmented Selves of Trauma Survivors, which I’m currently reading, there are several references to how hope has been undermined for many people, often early on in life and how it can be difficult to reclaim or sustain hope: “… he’s afraid it’s not safe to have hope” or “let’s be curious about how she lost her hope,” and elsewhere, she writes that a frequent deterrent to restoring a sense of hope and safety comes from parts of our self that are  skeptical, hypervigilant, scared or unable to trust. Therefore, it may be necessary to learn to cultivate hope or reclaim one’s capacity to hope because often early trauma, life struggles and events, result in our associating hope with fear or despair.

Ross Ellenhorn believes that a big aspect that gets missed is the interplay between hope and disappointment, and how repeated disappointments or losses create associations between hope and fear or what he calls “fear of hope.” He argues that often in therapeutic contexts the concept of hope is neglected, and this gap is substituted with a lot of diagnoses and focus on a person’s traits, and what’s wrong with them, rather than exploring their life circumstances, what’s happening around them, how they’re experiencing the world, their aspirations and resources, and so on. Fear comes from the experience of disappointment and helplessness, and if this happens often enough, over time, people develop a deep sense of hopelessness, and link hope with fear. Subsequnetly, suppressing hope or disconnecting from feelings of hope, in some sense shutting down their existence, provides temporary protection from disappointment and grief.

Ellenhorn conducted research and found that fear of hope is not just fear of success or failure, nor only anxiety or depression. Fear of hope may be related to the above, but it’s something more. He mentions that we might be missing something if we only see this issue as a trait, and not also as the state of someone dealing with profound experiences of disappointment. It’s not just “depression”; it’s situationally based. They also found that what often seems like hopelessness is actually fear of hope, and that fear of hope and hopelessness are not the same. In therapy or other similar contexts reclaiming hope is about helping someone rebuild a sense that they can make things happen in the world. They have to have some sense that they can actually master their lives.

This approach also focuses on the relationship between hope, disappointment, and what goes on in our early years. Ellenhorn believes that fear of hope might be linked to early attachment. People who fear hope seem to be more anxiously or / and more avoidantly attached; however, intensive longitudinal research studies would be required to show a later link to fear of hope.

As I end this piece today, my wish for this New Year is that more hope be available to people, and may there be more circumstances and contexts that will allow for the cultivation of hope.

Places

Images and narratives of places

“As my body continues its journey. My thoughts return to days gone by.” Gustave Flaubert (cited in My Indies by Katia Antonopoulou)

The suspended time of the journey, which I like so much, because detached as it is, it seems to me as if it does not belong to the general sum, as if it were a bonus let’s say, like the thirteenth salary, will soon end.” Katia Antonopoulou

Language is a system of signs that expresses ideas, and is therefore comparable to pictures, which are also a system of signs expressing ideas. From the Bald Soprano / 1954 by Eugene Ionesco

“[The] temporal lobe [is] one of the four major divisions of each of the two brain  hemispheres (left and right), located to the side of each hemisphere. The  temporal lobe is involved in, among other things, recognizing and remembering objects, places, and people, and in language processing.Kathleen Taylor, Brainwashing (Oxford Landmark Science) (p. 463)

Today’s post contains five drawings of Athens, Ioannina, Alonissos and Astypalaia, two islands that I visited in the 80s. A memory from those summers concerns the widely-travelled writer Katia Antonopoulou in the shop that she kept with her husband at the time, on a coastal road, if my memory serves me correctly, in Astypalaia. During those years, I read her book My Indies. The book resembles “a breathless conversation……. a journey through a thousand paths and a painting of the myriad faces of India…. a journey through place, time and the psyches of people…” (Kostas Stamatiou, 17/07/1988). The author herself writes in the book’s preface “…we will be together for 308 pages from Kalamata and Metaxochori to my Indies and back from where I began…”.

Her narrative begins:

“When I was a little girl, I would go to the train station in Kalamata to watch the trains leave for the unknown and magical Athens and dream of leaving, I never imagined that many years later I would take the train from Metaxochori in Larissa to end up in the Indies. But also that evening when I walked along the Kalamata pier holding my mother’s hand and asking her, “Mom, where are these people going?”, showing her a boat full of people poorly dressed with little luggage, her telling me, immigrants, my child, going to Australia. Nor did I imagine that one day I would go to Australia, married to Jim, who is an Australian and whom I met on Hydra. But did we both imagine that we would one day live in a small village in Thessaly, Metaxochori, he from Melbourne, Australia, and I from Kalamata, in the Peloponnese?”

Actor Michalis Syriopoulos reads an excerpt titled Alonissos, the Other Island from Jacques Lacarrière’s “Greek Summer”: https://www.lifo.gr/podcasts/anagnoseis/alonnisos-allo-nisi

Lacarrière made his first trip to Greece in 1947, and his last in the autumn of 1966.

Widely read poems about Greece with references to different time periods of the past.

Extract from the poem, A Word for Summer, by George Seferis (Autumn, 1936):

….. And yet I once loved Syngrou Avenue
the double rocking of the wide road
that would leave us miraculously by the sea,
the everlasting sea, to be cleansed of our sins;
I have loved a few unknown people
suddenly met at the day’s end
talking to themselves like captains of sunken armadas,
a sign that the world is wide.
And yet I have loved these very roads, these columns;
no matter if I was born on the other shore near
rushes and reeds, islands  // that had water wells in the sand that a rower
might quench his thirst, no matter if I was born
by the sea, which I wind and unwind in my fingers
when I am weary– I no longer know where I was born……

The poem, In the manner of G. S, by George Seferis resembles a tour of places in interwar Greece, which refers to history, and feelings of alienation, stagnation, inaction.

Excerpts:

Wherever I travel Greece wounds me.
On Pelion among the chestnut trees the Centaur’s shirt
slipped through the leaves to fold around my body
as I climbed the slope and the sea followed me
climbing  too like mercury in a thermometer  //  till we found the mountain waters.
On Santorini touching islands that were sinking
hearing a pipe play somewhere on the pumice stone
my hand was nailed to the gunwale by an arrow shot suddenly
from the confines of a vanished youth.
At Mycenae I raised the great stones and the treasures of the house of Atreus
and slept with them at the hotel “Beautiful Helen of Menelaus”……………
On Spetses, Poros, and Mykonos the barcaroles sickened me………………

Meanwhile Greece goes on travelling, always travelling………………..
and if we see “the Aegean flower with corpses”
it will be with those who tried to catch the big ship by swimming after it
those who got bored waiting for the ships that cannot move
the ELSI, the SAMOTHRAKI, the AMVRAKIKOS.

The ships hoot now that dusk falls on Piraeus, hoot and hoot, but no capstan moves, no chain gleams wet in the vanishing light,
the captain stands like a stone in white and gold.

Wherever I travel Greece wounds me,
curtains of mountains, archipelagos, naked granite.
They call the one ship that sails AGONY 937.

In his poem Greece you know… Michalis Ganas subtly refers to a line from one of George Seferis’ better known poems, posted above, Wherever I travel Greece wounds me…, and the years of the junta

You can listen to the poem read in Greek and English by Joshua Barley at: https://www.bsa.ac.uk/videos/michalis-ganas-greece-you-know-read-by-joshua-barley/

Finally, a few words about a tiny book by journalist Xenia Kounalaki, Antisemitism in Greece, which contains the speech she delivered at an event of the Jewish community of Ioannina in collaboration with the Region of Epirus and the Municipality of Ioannina on the occasion of the Day of Remembrance of the Greek Jewish Martyrs and Heroes of the Holocaust. Kounalaki tries to briefly record how political parties, the Church, Justice, school and the history lesson that tends to bypass “the unpleasant episodes and shameful footnotes” in the path of the Greek nation, the media, pop culture and Greek public opinion, perceive and negotiate these traumatic events and how they ultimately contribute to the dissemination or strengthening of antisemitism. As causes of this phenomenon, Kounalakis also mentions the circulation of conspiracy stories.

She begins her speech by telling us how her interest in the Holocaust was born, without her having any Jewish relatives or friends. Two defining experiences that helped her cultivate such reflexes were watching a documentary at school and reading Anne Frank’s Diary. She writes: “…what shocked me was my identification with the heroes, the thought that some children my age, just forty years earlier, were not playing carefree in their schoolyards, but were hiding in warehouses so that the Nazis would not arrest them and send them to camps…”.

The book points out that “In Greece, comparisons are constantly multiplying, the use of symbols is increasing, and sketches that relativize the Holocaust are increasing. In other words, we are doing the exact opposite of what, for example, Jorge Sembrun does, who, many years after the event, in 1963, writes “The Great Journey” trying to understand what has happened, or Claude Lanzmann, in the emblematic documentary “Shoah”, who talks about the Holocaust through silent single shots with natural sound: we chatter about the Holocaust, we compare the debt crisis with the Holocaust, us with the Jews………….. We constantly refer to the Holocaust, without really talking about it.”

Places

Places and literature

“Memory has its own geography.” Akakia Kordosi

A world which sees art and intellect as suspect cannot hope to carry civilization very far or for very long.  Anita Brookner

“We now receive most information like clouts, like slaps, disconnected, fragments, fragments of information that we are unable after a certain point to connect, and this of course always brings us unpleasant surprises because if you do not connect the information, you do not build that tissue of memory that protects you from unpleasant surprises. Books play this role of the tissue of memory….”. Petros Tatsopoulos

Each new drawing of one more place opens a window into memory, at times evoking nostalgia or the recollection of a literary text. Even the media, pen / ink that I have chosen, tells its own stories and takes me back in time, to adolescence and even further back to childhood, for example, to the transition from pencil to  pen and the first fountain pen…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I first heard about Messolonghi through my mother’s stories in childhood. One of her brothers had been transferred and  married there and she would visit them in the summers. A vague image of a lagoon existed in my imagination long before I actually saw it decades later.

An excerpt from a book by Akakia Kordosi, who was born in Messolonghi or Avroupoli as she prefers to call her town:

«Ο παράδεισος εκείνος των έξι χρόνων της, πιο σπουδαίος από κάθε ιδεατό παράδεισο  – όπως του Ροβινσώνα ή του Παύλου και της Βιργινίας – γιατί ήταν ένας παράδεισος της μνήμης κι όχι της φαντασίας, βρισκόμουν πάνω σ’ ένα πολύ μικρό νησί, στ’ ανοιχτά της θάλασσας της Αβρούπολης, εκεί που τελείωνε η λιμνοθάλασσα κι άρχιζε το πέλαγο…..

Το μικροσκοπικό και χαμηλό εκείνο νησί ενωνόταν με την πόλη μ’ έναν πολύ μακρύ δρόμο, που έκοβε στα δύο τη ρηχή λιμνοθάλασσα………..

Στο νησί εκείνο όλα ήταν μαγικά. Η χαμηλή από ξεραμένο γεμάτο αλάτι και φρυγμένο από τον ήλιο χώμα παραλία, άδεια, γλυκιά και ήσυχη, σε καλούσε να τρέξεις κατά μήκος της πολύ μακριά (ένα παιδικό «μακριά» βέβαια που μπορεί να ερμηνεύεται στην πραγματικότητα σε κάποιες εκατοντάδες μέτρα). Τα ξεβρασμένα τον χειμώνα απ’ τη θάλασσα στεγνά φύκια που τη γαρνίριζαν, σαν παχύ χαλί από σερπαντίνες, σε φώναζε να ξαπλώσεις πάνω του, να κυλιστείς, να στεγνώσεις και να ξαναστεγνώσεις. Γιατί το μπάνιο εκεί ήταν ολοήμερο, αφού η λιμνοθάλασσα ήταν μπροστά σου «ρηχή» – όπως την έλεγε ο ποιητής της – και «ήρεμη», κι έτσι μπορούσες  να περπατάς και να παίζεις χωρίς να σου λέει κανένας μεγάλος «μη», μια και το νερό σου έφτανε το πολύ ως το στήθος – το στήθος το παιδικό – για δεκάδες μέτρα από την παραλία, δηλαδή ως εκεί που άρχιζαν τα βαθιά – που ξεχώριζαν καθαρά όχι μόνο απ’ το χρώμα τους αλλά κι απ’ τις σημαδούρες που ήταν στη γραμμή και τον μεγάλο φάρο. Κι όταν βαριόσουν να τσαλαβουτάς, είχες τη διασκέδαση του βαγονέτου. Το βαγονέτο- «πλατφόρμα» όπως το έλεγαν οι εργάτες της αλυκής και πολύ σωστά γιατί πλατφόρμα ήτανε – χρησίμευε να μεταφέρουν το αλάτι απ’ τις αλυκές, όπου το είχαν στοιβαγμένο σε μεγάλες πυραμίδες, ως την άλλη άκρη της παραλίας. Όπου το ζύγιζαν και το φόρτωναν στα καΐκια».

“So Sappho fell and drowned / I tell the man with the green eye, / for someone like you.”  Ersi Sotiropoulou

An excerpt from Traveling in the Cool Night (1991) by Nikos – Alexis Aslanoglou:

«Αργά το απόγευμα, πλησιάζοντας το νοτιότερο άκρο της Λευκάδας, όλα λάμπουν στο φως. Σαν ένα ηλιοβασίλεμα στο Θερμαϊκό. Δεκάδες χρωματιστά γουιντσέρφινγκ, μεγάλα ιστιοφόρα και βάρκες στην οργιαστική βλάστηση των νερών. Οι ακτές είναι μέσα στο πράσινο.

Ένα χωριό ψαράδων, η Βασιλική, που έχει όμως περισσότερο αγροτικό χαρακτήρα. Στα δεξιά, λίγα παραθαλάσσια εστιατόρια και ξενοδοχεία. Αριστερά, η πλαζ, τα θαλάσσια σπορ, μοντέρνα καταστήματα παγωτών και φρούτων. Στο τέρμα του ανηφορικού δρόμου που διασχίζει το χωριό, δεκάδες ξενώνες με χαρακτηριστική αρχιτεκτονική μορφή μέσα στα σπάρτα, σε εκτάσεις έρημες. Μια δισκοθήκη μέσα στο λιβάδι, σ’ έναν αχανή κήπο. Τα κάμπινγκ αρχίζουν μετά, δίπλα στη θάλασσα. Τα βράδια φυσάει πάντα ένας άνεμος θερμός, θαλασσινός. Όλα τα μέσα μεταφοράς επιστρατεύονται από κει προς όλα τα σημεία του νησιού. Οι αποστάσεις εκμηδενίζονται. Ποιος βιάζεται να φτάσει στην πόλη της Λευκάδας με 42 βαθμούς;

Μερικές μέρες στο Νυδρί συμπληρώνουν την κοσμοπολίτικη όψη μιας μεταμορφωμένης Λευκάδας. Διεθνές παραθεριστικό κέντρο, μια προσπάθεια που πολύ γρήγορα καρποφόρησε. Σε τρεις λωρίδες: η παραθαλάσσια με δεκάδες κέντρα φαγητού και αναψυχής. Η άσφαλτος με πολυτελή καταστήματα και λιχουδιές. Μετά τα μεσάνυχτα μεταβάλλεται σε Ταγγέρη. Ορχήστρες, δισκοθήκες και καλλιτέχνες του τραγουδιού ακούγονται σε πολύ μεγάλο βάθος στην κωμόπολη. Η ίδια αυτή πόλη έχει πολυδαίδαλους δρόμους όπου επαύλεις συνορεύουν με φάρμες, κήπους με οπωροφόρα ή αγροικίες μοντέρνου ρυθμού. Οι υπηρεσίες προσφέρονται αφειδώς. Τα εκλεκτά πάντα φρούτα είναι ηπειρώτικα. Η τέχνη του νησιού, παραδοσιακή, όπως και οι άνθρωποι. Περιμένουν ασάλευτοι στα κατώφλια τους ξένους…………».

A favorite route of mine – Delphi, Itea, Galaxidi, Eratini, Nafpaktos, Galatas, Messolonghi – along the old national road.

An excerpt from Kosmas Politis’ complex and multi-layered novel, The Lemon Grove:

«Μείναμε σιωπηλοί μέσα στη φωτερή γαλήνη των βουνών. Πολύχρωμα ζουζούνια πάνε κι έρχουνται, ανεβοκατεβαίνουν δισταχτικά τις πέτρες, κρύβουνται μέσα στη μυστήρια λόχμη του καινούριου χορταριού. Ένας χρυσαετός ξέσκισε με το κρώξιμό του το γαλανό διάστημα και χάθηκε ψηλά, πίσω από τα βράχια.

Σηκώθηκα νευριασμένος.

— Ένα πράμα δεν μπορώ να καταλάβω. Δε σας εμπνέει αυτό το περιβάλλον; Δεν είπατε ούτε λέξη! Σκεφτήκατε ποτέ όλη αυτή την περασμένη δόξα; Το κατάλευκο τέμενος ανάμεσα στους θησαυρούς που στήσαν ξακουσμένες πολιτείες κι ανάμεσα στ’ αγάλματα και τους βωμούς. Όλος ο παλιός κόσμος είχε το βλέμμα του στραμμένο εδώ, περίμενε να του μιλήσει ο θεός. Το παγκόσμιο ιερό.

Η Βίργκω τινάχτηκε ορθή………

— Δεν πρόκειται για μένα, της αποκρίθηκα. Ούτε για μένα ούτε για σας. Μιλώ για την αναβίωση αρχαίων τελετών…

Μου έκοψε την ομιλία:

— Όσο δεν ξαναζωντανεύει κι ολόκληρη η αρχαία ζωή, να τη ζήσομε όλοι εμείς καθώς που ζούμε τώρα την καθημερινή ζωή μας, θα ’ναι μονάχα μια σκηνοθεσία.

— Μα επιτέλους ποια είναι τα ιδανικά σας;

Έμεινε σκεφτική. Τα μάτια της βυθίστηκαν μακριά, πιο πέρ’ απ’ τον ορίζοντα.

— Τα ιδανικά μου;… Ένα λευκό σπιτάκι με πράσινα παραθυρόφυλλα καταμεσής σ’ ένα λιβάδι».

Piraeus, for me, encompasses my university years, politicization and political youth groups, uninsured work, an unexpected road injury, countless journeys, Athens-Piraeus, by electric train (on the tube), trips to the islands, departures and arrivals by ship, parents and relatives’ stories of farewells and migration.

Stefanos Milesis writes “The Piraeus of work, of sailors, poets and intellectuals, of small boatmen and large shipowners, has stood through time as the port of the great migration.” His book, Piraeus: the port of farewell, concerns the history of the migration of Greeks to other places from the end of the 19th century to the mid-1960s and perhaps even the 1970s, without any beautification. The causes mentioned in the book of this great “hemorrhage” of population, in successive waves of migration of thousands of people, are the successive wars, the disaster of 1922, political and economic instability, and then the Second World War, the occupation and the civil war, the post-civil war period, hunger, poverty, lack of work and the absence of a working future, mainly in the provinces.

Στο πρώτο κεφάλαιο με τον τίτλο, Οι απόγονοι του Οδυσσέα, σημειώνει, κυρίως για τους μετανάστες του πρώτου μισού του 20ου αιώνα, «Αναχωρούσαν από το λιμάνι του Πειραιά χωρίς να ξέρουν τη γλώσσα της νέας χώρας που είχαν θέσει ως προορισμό, και δεν θα  ήταν υπερβολή να πούμε ότι πολλοί, οι περισσότεροι, δεν γνώριζαν να γράφουν ή να διαβάζουν καν τα ελληνικά….. ».  Το βιβλίο μας δίνει πληροφορίες για τις άθλιες συνθήκες των πολυήμερων ταξιδιών, κυρίως   στην αρχή, την αγορά και αργότερα την κατασκευή των πρώτων ελληνικών υπερωκεάνιων, τις σκληρές συνθήκες εργασίας κι εκμετάλλευσης των μεταναστών στις χώρες υποδοχής, τουλάχιστον μέχρι να σταθούν στα πόδια τους. Αφηγείται τις συνθήκες εργασίας των μικρών γαβριάδων των αμερικάνικών στιλβωτηρίων και των «υπηρετριών» της Αυστραλίας. Κάνει εκτενή αναφορά στα  Πειραιώτικα κυκλώματα, εκμετάλλευσης και εξαπάτησης των υποψηφίων μεταναστών, η οποία συνεχίστηκε ως τα μέσα του 1960, στους σαράφηδες ή  αργυραμοιβούς της Τρούμπας, και τον πλουτισμό πολλών και συγκεκριμένων ατόμων από την επιχείρηση της μετανάστευσης.

Το βιβλίο περιγράφει και την διαδικασία αναζήτησης Ελληνίδων συζύγων, τις λεγόμενες «υποψήφιες νύφες» και τα συνοικέσια της μιας φωτογραφίας.  Επίσης κάνει αναφορά στα άστεγα χαμίνια του Πειραιά, στρατιές από εκατοντάδες μικρά παιδιά, τα ονομαζόμενα «γαβριάδες» από τον μικρό ήρωα του Βίκτωρ Ουγκώ, τα οποία αποτελούσαν «ένα λαμπρό πεδίο παιδικής εργασίας και εκμετάλλευσης». Μάλλον αυτός ήταν και ο λόγος που τα πρώτα ιδρύματα του Πειραιά ήταν ορφανοτροφεία. Τα παιδιά δεν έμειναν στο περιθώριο στα χρόνια της μετανάστευσης καθώς τα πρακτορεία εργασίας «τα έθεσαν κι αυτά στο στόχαστρο του κέρδους» και έγινε εξαγωγή παιδιών εργατών.  Η εκμίσθωση ανήλικων λούστρων από Έλληνες στην Αμερική  σταμάτησε μόνο μετά από την επέμβαση της αμερικάνικης δικαιοσύνης.

Τέλος αναφέρεται στον κύκλο της «σιωπής», καθώς και στην ανάγκη δημιουργίας ενός μουσείου μετανάστευσης για τη αποφυγή της λήθης, Ο συγγραφέας θεωρεί αυτόν τον ιδιότυπο νόμο της σιωπής, ως τον δεύτερο πυλώνα συντήρησης της μετανάστευσης. Η σιωπή γύρω από τις πραγματικές αιτίες, συνθήκες και δυσκολίες, καθώς και τα εμβάσματα (αποτέλεσμα μεγάλων κόπων και θυσιών) που έστελναν οι μετανάστες στις οικογένειες τους, διατηρούσε τον μύθο του εύκολου πλουτισμού και την συνέχιση της μετανάστευσης. Η σιωπή συμβάλλει και στην λήθη της Ιστορίας. Τέλος, υποστηρίζει την ανάγκη δημιουργίας μουσείου μετανάστευσης στον Πειραιά και αναφέρει ότι  δεν έγινε ποτέ κανένα αφιέρωμα στα εκατομμύρια των Ελλήνων που αναγκάστηκαν να αναχωρήσουν ίσως γιατί πιστεύεται ότι απώλεια πατρίδας είναι μόνο εδαφική και ποτέ πληθυσμιακή.

Anyway, in the rest of Europe there are several museums. To mention a few, in Ireland, with its long legacy of emigration from the Irish shores to America, Canada, Australia, and elsewhere, there are several museums that pay tribute to and explore the experience of those who left.  The EPIC, an Irish Emigration Museum has twenty galleries that detail the history, heritage, and culture of the Irish diaspora. The Dunbrody Famine Ship is a faithful reproduction of an 1840s emigrant vessel that carried weary and hungry refugees fleeing Ireland’s Famine caused by a potato blight that started in 1845, which killed the crop of the impoverished Irish tenant farmers. Within 7 years, one  million people had died and 1.5 million had emigrated. The Cobh Heritage Center tells the story of hundreds of years of emigration from the 1600s, when Irish people were transported to the British overseas colonies, The port of Cobh, then known as Queenstown, became the departing point of millions of emigrants. Between 1848 to 1950, 2.5 million of the six million people who left Ireland departed from Cobh.

The Red Star Line museum in Antwerpin in Belgium tells the story of the men, women and children from all over Europe, who travelled to the port of Antwerp where they embarked on the Red Star Line ships on a journey to America. From 1815 until 1940, around 60 million emigrants from all over Europe left their homeland for America. At the MEI – National Museum of Italian Emigration, one can retrace many stories, told through first-hand sources such as diaries, letters, photographs,  newspapers and archival documents, of the millions of Italians that left their homeland in search of a better life from the Unification of Italy (and even before) to the present.