Pio d’Emilia, GiapponeGiappone, March 29, 2005
TOKYO — I can’t believe it, now he pisses against the airport wall, in front of everyone. And so they arrest him again. Fischer is before us, free at last. In seeing the firing squad of local journalists and photographers, he makes a gesture of anger (“Where the fuck were you all these months? Assholes!”, he yells at them) and approaches the building. His long denim shirt spares us the vision of the backside, but his breeches are down, lower and lower. The Icelandic ambassador, who escorted him in his diplomatic car to avoid bad surprises, puts his hands in his hair, but he cannot hold back a laugh. And among the many local and foreign fans who flocked to the spot are people who applaud and cheer him on. “Come on Bobby, show us your ass. Piss on the Empire!”. But Robert James Fischer, known as “Bobby”, is not certainly a fool. A little crazy, quite a bit paranoid, maybe. But definitely not a fool. No uniforms in sight (after the poor figure they cut in the affair, Japanese authorities have literally disappeared, as Fischer, from a dangerous terror suspect became a free Icelandic citizen — in theory he could even change his mind and not leave at once, and apparently he also gave a thought about it). But no one doubts that at the slightest hint of an infraction, the empire would react intransigently. “No, I did not want to piss — he explains to us in the airport lounge, just before leaving — I only wanted to settle down a bit, and put my fucking belt on. It had been eight months that I had to keep my breeches up. I lost 15 kilos, and those assholes took my belt off of me. They were afraid that I would commit suicide. Fuck it. Rather, I would have strangled them one by one, oh yes...”. Thus, Bobby pulls out a black belt from a plastic bag containing his personal belongings, he slowly slips it into his pants, he adjusts his shirt and gets back to the small committee that has come to greet him and wish him good luck. He hugs us one by one, from John Bosnitch, a Serbian colleague who immediately took his case to heart and with a couple of phone calls to opposition politicians managed to block instant deportation, which has already been agreed at high government levels, to Socialist parliamentarian Mizuho Fukushima, who first ridiculed the Japanese goverment with her interpellations, and then nailed it to its responsibilities, forcing it to respect the laws that exist even in a state with limited sovereignty like Japan. A strong hug to me too, il manifesto: after meeting him a couple of times in prison, Fischer asked to be able to follow, through our newspaper, the story of Giuliana Sgrena. Since then, we faxed him the front page every day, often receiving comments and requests for explanations on the meaning of the titles and satirical vignettes. “It is no accident” — he says to us on the fly — “Americans stop at nothing, they killed Allende, they kidnapped Milošević, they slaughtered, through their Israeli servants, thousands of Palestinians. Fortunately they’re also inept, once upon a time it was intelligent Jews going to govern, but now they are gone and the world is in the hands of a bunch of stupid motherfuckers. Like Bush, Koizumi and their criminal allies. Try them and hang them!”. He was like this even before he was “kidnapped” by the “yellow Jews”, as he says. After eight months of solitary confinement, it was quite unlikely that he would have improved. Who knows, maybe once in the heat of Icelandic ice he will want to play again. And maybe, once free again, he will end up following the advice of one of his Japanese supporters, author of this e-mail: “Dear Bobby, you are my myth, my maestro. You gave meaning to my life, first by making me passionate about classical chess, and then opening up new horizons for me with the genial Fischerandom chess. Now allow me to help you. Give up your Western ego, embrace oriental philosophy, Buddhism. The bigger your ego, the longer and harder the suffering. Do not fight against the world, of which you are an integral part, and accept instead all its contradictions. You’ll feel better. You’ll see”. I asked him if he had read it: “I have it here with me, in this folder. I have received thousands of e-mails — but indeed I have kept this one”. Miyoko Watai, President of Japan Chess Association and his betrothed bride, moved and happy, pulls him away, after a short but voracious stop at the duty free shop to rummage among the latest electronic gadgets. “I did not think my country could sink to such a level of inhumanity. And frankly, I am seriously thinking that I’ll never set foot in here again”. Fischer too, we guess. But you never know.
TOKYO — I can’t believe it, now he pisses against the airport wall, in front of everyone. And so they arrest him again. Fischer is before us, free at last. In seeing the firing squad of local journalists and photographers, he makes a gesture of anger (“Where the fuck were you all these months? Assholes!”, he yells at them) and approaches the building. His long denim shirt spares us the vision of the backside, but his breeches are down, lower and lower. The Icelandic ambassador, who escorted him in his diplomatic car to avoid bad surprises, puts his hands in his hair, but he cannot hold back a laugh. And among the many local and foreign fans who flocked to the spot are people who applaud and cheer him on. “Come on Bobby, show us your ass. Piss on the Empire!”. But Robert James Fischer, known as “Bobby”, is not certainly a fool. A little crazy, quite a bit paranoid, maybe. But definitely not a fool. No uniforms in sight (after the poor figure they cut in the affair, Japanese authorities have literally disappeared, as Fischer, from a dangerous terror suspect became a free Icelandic citizen — in theory he could even change his mind and not leave at once, and apparently he also gave a thought about it). But no one doubts that at the slightest hint of an infraction, the empire would react intransigently. “No, I did not want to piss — he explains to us in the airport lounge, just before leaving — I only wanted to settle down a bit, and put my fucking belt on. It had been eight months that I had to keep my breeches up. I lost 15 kilos, and those assholes took my belt off of me. They were afraid that I would commit suicide. Fuck it. Rather, I would have strangled them one by one, oh yes...”. Thus, Bobby pulls out a black belt from a plastic bag containing his personal belongings, he slowly slips it into his pants, he adjusts his shirt and gets back to the small committee that has come to greet him and wish him good luck. He hugs us one by one, from John Bosnitch, a Serbian colleague who immediately took his case to heart and with a couple of phone calls to opposition politicians managed to block instant deportation, which has already been agreed at high government levels, to Socialist parliamentarian Mizuho Fukushima, who first ridiculed the Japanese goverment with her interpellations, and then nailed it to its responsibilities, forcing it to respect the laws that exist even in a state with limited sovereignty like Japan. A strong hug to me too, il manifesto: after meeting him a couple of times in prison, Fischer asked to be able to follow, through our newspaper, the story of Giuliana Sgrena. Since then, we faxed him the front page every day, often receiving comments and requests for explanations on the meaning of the titles and satirical vignettes. “It is no accident” — he says to us on the fly — “Americans stop at nothing, they killed Allende, they kidnapped Milošević, they slaughtered, through their Israeli servants, thousands of Palestinians. Fortunately they’re also inept, once upon a time it was intelligent Jews going to govern, but now they are gone and the world is in the hands of a bunch of stupid motherfuckers. Like Bush, Koizumi and their criminal allies. Try them and hang them!”. He was like this even before he was “kidnapped” by the “yellow Jews”, as he says. After eight months of solitary confinement, it was quite unlikely that he would have improved. Who knows, maybe once in the heat of Icelandic ice he will want to play again. And maybe, once free again, he will end up following the advice of one of his Japanese supporters, author of this e-mail: “Dear Bobby, you are my myth, my maestro. You gave meaning to my life, first by making me passionate about classical chess, and then opening up new horizons for me with the genial Fischerandom chess. Now allow me to help you. Give up your Western ego, embrace oriental philosophy, Buddhism. The bigger your ego, the longer and harder the suffering. Do not fight against the world, of which you are an integral part, and accept instead all its contradictions. You’ll feel better. You’ll see”. I asked him if he had read it: “I have it here with me, in this folder. I have received thousands of e-mails — but indeed I have kept this one”. Miyoko Watai, President of Japan Chess Association and his betrothed bride, moved and happy, pulls him away, after a short but voracious stop at the duty free shop to rummage among the latest electronic gadgets. “I did not think my country could sink to such a level of inhumanity. And frankly, I am seriously thinking that I’ll never set foot in here again”. Fischer too, we guess. But you never know.
Fischer, finally free, chats with Pio d’Emilia and John Bosnitch. Photo: Pio d’Emilia. |
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