It was April, last year. I was on an evening out with friends to celebrate one of their birthdays. We hadn't been all together for a couple of weeks; it was a perfect evening, as we were all reunited.
Bio je travanj, prošle godine. Bila sam vani s prijateljima kako bi proslavili nečiji rođendan. Nismo bili svi skupa već nekoliko tjedana; bila je to savršena večer, svi ponovno zajedno.
At the end of the evening, I caught the last underground train back to the other side of London. The journey was smooth. I got back to my local station and I began the 10-minute walk home. As I turned the corner onto my street, my house in sight up ahead, I heard footsteps behind me that seemed to have approached out of nowhere and were picking up pace. Before I had time to process what was happening, a hand was clapped around my mouth so that I could not breathe, and the young man behind me dragged me to the ground, beat my head repeatedly against the pavement until my face began to bleed, kicking me in the back and neck while he began to assault me, ripping off my clothes and telling me to "shut up," as I struggled to cry for help. With each smack of my head to the concrete ground, a question echoed through my mind that still haunts me today: "Is this going to be how it all ends?"
Na kraju večeri, uhvatila sam posljednji vlak podzemne kako bih se vratila na drugu stranu grada. Putovanje je teklo glatko. Vratila sam se na svoju stanicu i počela desetominutnu šetnju kući. Kad sam skrenula za ugao moje ulice, moja kuća vidjela se u daljini, čula sam korake iza sebe koji su se pojavili niotkuda i ubrzavali su. Prije nego sam imala vremena shvatiti što se događa, nečija ruka je bila oko mojih usta tako da ne mogu disati, i mladić koji je bio iza mene povukao me na tlo, lupio mi glavom o beton nekoliko puta dok mi lice nije počelo krvariti, udarajući me u vrat i leđa, i počeo napastovati, kidajući odjeću s mene i govoreći mi da "ušutim," dok sam se borila pokušavajući dozvati pomoć. Svakim udarcem moje glave u betonsko tlo, kroz glavu mi je prošlo pitanje koje me i danas muči: "Hoće li se ovako sve završiti?"
Little could I have realized, I'd been followed the whole way from the moment I left the station. And hours later, I was standing topless and barelegged in front of the police, having the cuts and bruises on my naked body photographed for forensic evidence.
Nisam shvatila da me pratio cijelim putem otkako sam napustila stanicu. Satima kasnije, stajala sam bez majice, golih nogu pred policijom, dok su mi fotografirali posjekotine i modrice na golom tijelu kao forenzički dokaz.
Now, there are few words to describe the all-consuming feelings of vulnerability, shame, upset and injustice that I was ridden with in that moment and for the weeks to come. But wanting to find a way to condense these feelings into something ordered that I could work through, I decided to do what felt most natural to me: I wrote about it.
Postoji malo riječi da bih opisala osjećaje ranjivosti, srama, uznemirenja i nepravde koji su me obuzimali u tom trenutku i tjednima nakon toga. Ali želeći naći način da prikupim te osjećaje u nešto smisleno s čim bih se mogla nositi, odlučila sam učiniti što mi se činilo najprirodnije: pisala sam o tome.
It started out as a cathartic exercise. I wrote a letter to my assaulter, humanizing him as "you," to identify him as part of the very community that he had so violently abused that night.
Počelo je kao katarzična vježba. Napisala sam pismo svom napadaču, humanizirajući ga sa "ti," kako bih ga identificirala kao dio te zajednice koju je tako nasilno zlostavljao te noći.
Stressing the tidal-wave effect of his actions, I wrote: "Did you ever think of the people in your life? I don't know who the people in your life are. I don't know anything about you. But I do know this: you did not just attack me that night. I'm a daughter, I'm a friend, I'm a sister, I'm a pupil, I'm a cousin, I'm a niece, I'm a neighbor; I'm the employee who served everyone coffee in the café under the railway. And all the people who form these relations to me make up my community. And you assaulted every single one of them. You violated the truth that I will never cease to fight for, and which all of these people represent: that there are infinitely more good people in the world than bad."
Naglašavajući njegovo djelovanje, poput plimnog vala napisala sam: "Jesi li razmišljao o ljudima u svom životu? Ne znam tko su ljudi u tvom životu. Ne znam ništa o tebi. Ali znam ovo: nisi napao samo mene te noći. Ja sam kćer, prijatelj, sestra, učenica, rođakinja, nećakinja, ja sam susjeda. Ja sam radnica koja ljudima poslužuje kavu u kafiću pod prugom. I svi ljudi koji imaju te veze samnom stvaraju moju zajednicu. I ti si napao sve njih. Povrijedio si istinu za koju se nikad neću prestati boriti, i koju svi ovi ljudi predstavljaju: da postoji nebrojeno više dobrih nego loših ljudi u svijetu."
But, determined not to let this one incident make me lose faith in the solidarity in my community or humanity as a whole, I recalled the 7/7 terrorist bombings in July 2005 on London transport, and how the mayor of London at the time, and indeed my own parents, had insisted that we all get back on the tubes the next day, so we wouldn't be defined or changed by those that had made us feel unsafe.
Odlučna da ne dopustim da ovaj incident naruši moju vjeru u solidarnost moje zajednice ili čovječanstva u cijelosti, prisjetila sam se terorističkog napada 7. 7. 2005. u londonskom prijevozu, i kako su gradonačelnik Londona, i moji roditelji, inzistirali da se vratimo u podzemnu sljedećeg dana, tako da nas ne odrede ili promjene oni koji su učinili da se osjećamo nesigurno.
I told my attacker, "You've carried out your attack, but now I'm getting back on my tube. My community will not feel we are unsafe walking home after dark. We will get on the last tubes home, and we will walk up our streets alone, because we will not ingrain or submit to the idea that we are putting ourselves in danger in doing so. We will continue to come together, like an army, when any member of our community is threatened. And this is a fight you will not win."
Rekla sam svom napadaču, "Izveo si svoj napad, ali ja se vraćam u svoju podezmnu. Moja zajednica neće osjećati strah kada bude išla kući po mraku. Ići ćemo zadnjim vlakovima kući, i sami ćemo šetati ulicama, jer nećemo prihvatiti i pasti pod utjecaj ideje da se dovodimo u opasnost čineći to. Nastavit ćemo stupati skupa, poput vojske, kada se prijeti nekom našem članu. I to je borba u kojoj nećeš pobijediti."
At the time of writing this letter --
Kada sam pisala ovo pismo --
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
At the time of writing this letter, I was studying for my exams in Oxford, and I was working on the local student paper there. Despite being lucky enough to have friends and family supporting me, it was an isolating time. I didn't know anyone who'd been through this before; at least I didn't think I did. I'd read news reports, statistics, and knew how common sexual assault was, yet I couldn't actually name a single person that I'd heard speak out about an experience of this kind before.
Kada sam pisala ovo pismo, učila sam za ispite na Oxfordu, i radila sam u tamošnjim lokalnim novinama. Unatoč sreći zbog podrške obitelji i prijatelja, osamila sam se. Nisam poznavala nikog tko je to prije prošao, barem sam tako mislila. Čitala bih novinske izvještaje, statistike, i znala koliko su učestali seksualni napadi, ali nisam mogla imenovati nijednu osobu za koju sam prije čula da priča o ovakvom iskustvu.
So in a somewhat spontaneous decision, I decided that I would publish my letter in the student paper, hoping to reach out to others in Oxford that might have had a similar experience and be feeling the same way. At the end of the letter, I asked others to write in with their experiences under the hashtag, "#NotGuilty," to emphasize that survivors of assault could express themselves without feeling shame or guilt about what happened to them -- to show that we could all stand up to sexual assault.
U ponešto spontanoj odluci, odlučila sam pismo objaviti u studentskim novinama, u nadi da ću doprijeti do drugih u Oxfordu koji su imali slično iskustvo i osjećaju se slično. Na kraju pisma, pitala sam druge da pišu pod "#NotGuilty," da naglase kako se preživjeli mogu izraziti bez osjećaja srama ili krivnje vezano za to što se dogodilo -- da pokažemo da se možemo oduprijeti seksualnom napastovanju.
What I never anticipated is that almost overnight, this published letter would go viral. Soon, we were receiving hundreds of stories from men and women across the world, which we began to publish on a website I set up. And the hashtag became a campaign.
Nisam očekivala da će gotovo preko noći, ovo objavljeno pismo postati viralno. Uskoro smo primali stotine priča muškaraca i žena iz cijelog svijeta, koje smo počeli objavljivati na stranici koju sam postavila. Hashtag je postao kampanja.
There was an Australian mother in her 40s who described how on an evening out, she was followed to the bathroom by a man who went to repeatedly grab her crotch. There was a man in the Netherlands who described how he was date-raped on a visit to London and wasn't taken seriously by anyone he reported his case to. I had personal Facebook messages from people in India and South America, saying, how can we bring the message of the campaign there? One of the first contributions we had was from a woman called Nikki, who described growing up, being molested my her own father. And I had friends open up to me about experiences ranging from those that happened last week to those that happened years ago, that I'd had no idea about.
Majka iz Australije u 40-ima opisala je kako ju je tijekom izlaska, u kupaonicu pratio muškarac koji ju je opetovano hvatao za prepone. Čovjek iz Nizozemske je opisao kako je silovan na spoju tijekom posjeta Londonu i nisu ga shvatili ozbiljno kada je prijavio slučaj. Dobila sam osobne Facebook poruke ljudi iz Indije i Južne Amerike, s pitanjima kako tamo prenijeti poruku kampanje? Jedan od prvih doprinosa bio je od žene koja se zvala Nikki, koja je opisala kako je odrastala uz oca koji ju je zlostavljao. Prijatelji su mi pričali o iskustvima koja su se dogodila prošlog tjedna do onih koja su se dogodila godinama prije za koje nisam znala.
And the more we started to receive these messages, the more we also started to receive messages of hope -- people feeling empowered by this community of voices standing up to sexual assault and victim-blaming. One woman called Olivia, after describing how she was attacked by someone she had trusted and cared about for a long time, said, "I've read many of the stories posted here, and I feel hopeful that if so many women can move forward, then I can, too. I've been inspired by many, and I hope I can be as strong as them someday. I'm sure I will."
I što smo više tih poruka primali, počeli smo dobivati i poruke nade -- od ljudi koji su bili osnaženi ovom zajednicom glasova koji su ustali protiv seksualnih napada i okrivljavanja žrtava. Žena imena Olivia je, nakon opisa kako ju je napala osoba kojoj je vjerovala i o kojoj se brinula dugo vremena rekla, "Pročitala sam puno priča objavljenih ovdje, i osjećam nadu kad vidim da toliko žena ide naprijed, da to mogu i ja. Inspirirale su me mnoge, nadam se da ću i ja jednom biti tako snažna. Sigurna sam da hoću."
People around the world began tweeting under this hashtag, and the letter was republished and covered by the national press, as well as being translated into several other languages worldwide.
Ljudi širom svijeta, počeli su tweetati pod tim hashtagom, i pismo je ponovno objavljeno i pratio ga je državni tisak, i preveli su ga na nekoliko jezika širom svijeta.
But something struck me about the media attention that this letter was attracting. For something to be front-page news, given the word "news" itself, we can assume it must be something new or something surprising. And yet sexual assault is not something new. Sexual assault, along with other kinds of injustices, is reported in the media all the time. But through the campaign, these injustices were framed as not just news stories, they were firsthand experiences that had affected real people, who were creating, with the solidarity of others, what they needed and had previously lacked: a platform to speak out, the reassurance they weren't alone or to blame for what happened to them and open discussions that would help to reduce stigma around the issue. The voices of those directly affected were at the forefront of the story -- not the voices of journalists or commentators on social media. And that's why the story was news.
Ali nešto me pogodilo kod medijske pažnje koju je ovo pismo dobivalo. Da bi nešto bilo vijest s naslovnice, s obzirom na samu riječ "vijest", moramo pretpostaviti da to mora biti nešto novo ili iznenađujuće. Ali ipak, seksualno zlostavljanje nije nešto novo. Seksualni napadi, zajedno s drugim nepravdama, su stalno u medijima. Ali kroz kampanju, ove su nepravde oblikovane ne samo kao priče iz novina, već iskustva iz prve ruke koja su utjecala na stvarne ljude koji su stvarali, uz solidarnost drugih, ono što su trebali i prije im je nedostajalo: platformu za govor, sigurnost da nisu sami ili okrivljavanje za to što im se dogodilo i otvorene rasprave koje će pomoći smanjiti stigmu oko problema. Glasovi onih na koje je to utjecalo su bili u prvom planu priče -- ne glasovi novinara ili komentatora na društvenim mrežama. I zato je ta priča bila vijest.
We live in an incredibly interconnected world with the proliferation of social media, which is of course a fantastic resource for igniting social change. But it's also made us increasingly reactive, from the smallest annoyances of, "Oh, my train's been delayed," to the greatest injustices of war, genocides, terrorist attacks. Our default response has become to leap to react to any kind of grievance by tweeting, Facebooking, hastagging -- anything to show others that we, too, have reacted.
Živimo u nevjerojatno povezanom svijetu sa procvatom društvenih mreža, što je naravno odličan resurs u pokretanju društvenih promjena. Ali smo postali i reaktivniji, od najmanjih problema, "Oh, moj vlak kasni," do najvećih nepravdi, rata, genocida, terorističkih napada. Naš osnovni odgovor postao je brzo reagirati na bilo kakav problem tvitajući, pišući na FB, hashtagovima -- bilo što da bismo drugima pokazali da smo i mi reagirali.
The problem with reacting in this manner en masse is it can sometimes mean that we don't actually react at all, not in the sense of actually doing anything, anyway. It might make ourselves feel better, like we've contributed to a group mourning or outrage, but it doesn't actually change anything. And what's more, it can sometimes drown out the voices of those directly affected by the injustice, whose needs must be heard.
Problem kod takvih masovnih reakcija je da to nekad zapravo znači da uopće nismo reagirali, barem ne u smislu da smo nešto zaista učinili. Možda ćemo se osjećati bolje, kao da smo pridonijeli grupnom žalovanju ili bijesu, ali to zapravo ništa ne mjenja. I važnije, nekad može ugušiti glasove onih na koje nepravda direktno utječe, a čiji glas moramo čuti.
Worrying, too, is the tendency for some reactions to injustice to build even more walls, being quick to point fingers with the hope of providing easy solutions to complex problems. One British tabloid, on the publication of my letter, branded a headline stating, "Oxford Student Launches Online Campaign to Shame Attacker." But the campaign never meant to shame anyone. It meant to let people speak and to make others listen. Divisive Twitter trolls were quick to create even more injustice, commenting on my attacker's ethnicity or class to push their own prejudiced agendas. And some even accused me of feigning the whole thing to push, and I quote, my "feminist agenda of man-hating."
Zabrinjavajuće, također, je to što neke reakcije na nepravdu grade još više zidova, upirući prstom s nadom da ćete ponuditi lako rješenje za složene probleme. Jedan britanski tabloid, prilikom objave mog pisma, objavio je naslov "Studentica s Oxforda pokreće online kampanju da osramoti napadača." Ali kampanja nikad nije bila namijenjena tome. Trebala je dozvoliti ljudima da pričaju i učiniti da drugi slušaju. Twitter trollovi brzo su stvorili još više podjela, komentirajući etničku pripadnost ili primanja kako bi progurali svoje predrasude. A neki su me čak optužili da sam lažirala cijelu stvar kako bih progurala, i citiram, moju "feministički program mržnje muškaraca."
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
I know, right? As if I'm going to be like, "Hey guys! Sorry I can't make it, I'm busy trying to hate the entire male population by the time I'm 30."
Znam, zar ne? Kao da ću doći i reći, "Hej ljudi! Ne mogu doći, zaposlena sam pokušavajući mrziti cijelu mušku populaciju prije tridesete."
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
Now, I'm almost sure that these people wouldn't say the things they say in person. But it's as if because they might be behind a screen, in the comfort in their own home when on social media, people forget that what they're doing is a public act -- that other people will be reading it and be affected by it.
Gotovo sam sigurna da ti ljudi ne bi govorili stvari koje govore uživo. Ali kao da je to što su iza ekrana, u udobnosti svojeg doma kada su na društvenim mrežama, razlog zbog kojeg zaborave da je to što rade javni čin -- da će to drugi čitati i da će na njih utjecati.
Returning to my analogy of getting back on our trains, another main concern I have about this noise that escalates from our online responses to injustice is that it can very easily slip into portraying us as the affected party, which can lead to a sense of defeatism, a kind of mental barrier to seeing any opportunity for positivity or change after a negative situation.
Vraćajući se na moju analogiju vraćanje na naše vlakove, još jedna velika briga koju imam oko ove buke koja eskalira od naših online odgovora na nepravdu je da sve vrlo lako može preći u opisivanje nas kao povrijeđenih, što može voditi do osjećaja poraza, mentalne barijere, spriječiti nas da vidimo priliku za pozitivnost ili promjenu nakon negativne situacije.
A couple of months before the campaign started or any of this happened to me, I went to a TEDx event in Oxford, and I saw Zelda la Grange speak, the former private secretary to Nelson Mandela. One of the stories she told really struck me. She spoke of when Mandela was taken to court by the South African Rugby Union after he commissioned an inquiry into sports affairs. In the courtroom, he went up to the South African Rugby Union's lawyers, shook them by the hand and conversed with them, each in their own language. And Zelda wanted to protest, saying they had no right to his respect after this injustice they had caused him.
Nekoliko mjeseci prije početka kampanje i ovoga što se meni dogodilo, bila sam na TEDx događaju u Oxfordu, i vidjela sam Zeldu le Grange kako priča, bivšu tajnicu Nelsona Mandele. Jedna od priča koju je ispričala zaista me pogodila. Pričala je o tome kada je Mandela odveden pred sud od stranje Južnoafričkog ragbi sindikata nakon što je postavio pitanje u vezi sportskih afera. U sudnici, prišao je odvjetnicima Sindikata, pružio im ruku i pričao sa svakim, na njihovom jeziku. Zelda je htjela prosvjedovati, reći kako nemaju pravo na njegovo poštovanje nakon nepravde koju su mu nanijeli.
He turned to her and said, "You must never allow the enemy to determine the grounds for battle."
Okrenuo joj se i rekao, "Nikad ne dozvoli neprijatelju da određuje temelje za bitku."
At the time of hearing these words, I didn't really know why they were so important, but I felt they were, and I wrote them down in a notebook I had on me. But I've thought about this line a lot ever since.
Čuvši te riječi, nisam znala zašto su tako važne, ali osjećala sam da jesu, i zapisala sam ih u svoju bilježnicu. I od tada puno razmišljam o toj rečenici.
Revenge, or the expression of hatred towards those who have done us injustice may feel like a human instinct in the face of wrong, but we need to break out of these cycles if we are to hope to transform negative events of injustice into positive social change. To do otherwise continues to let the enemy determine the grounds for battle, creates a binary, where we who have suffered become the affected, pitted against them, the perpetrators. And just like we got back on our tubes, we can't let our platforms for interconnectivity and community be the places that we settle for defeat.
Osveta, ili izražavanje mržnje prema onima koji su nam učinili nešto nažao možda se čini kao ljudski nagon kada smo suočeni s nepravdom, ali moramo izaći iz tog ciklusa ako želimo transformirati negativne događaje nepravde u pozitivnu društvenu promjenu. Inače to omogućuje neprijatelju određivanja temelja za bitku, stvara binarni sustav, gdje mi koji smo patili postajemo oni pod utjecajem, nasuprot njih, počinitelja. I kao što smo se vratili na podzemnu, ne možemo dozvoliti da naše platforme za komunikaciju i zajednicu budu mjesta gdje se mirimo s porazom.
But I don't want to discourage a social media response, because I owe the development of the #NotGuilty campaign almost entirely to social media. But I do want to encourage a more considered approach to the way we use it to respond to injustice.
Ali ne želim obeshrabriti odgovor na društvenim mrežama, jer dugujem razvoj #NotGuilty kampanje gotovo u potpunosti društvenim mrežama. Ali želim poticati promišljeniji pristup načinu na koji ih koristimo da odgovorimo na nepravdu.
The start, I think, is to ask ourselves two things. Firstly: Why do I feel this injustice? In my case, there were several answers to this. Someone had hurt me and those who I loved, under the assumption they wouldn't have to be held to account or recognize the damage they had caused. Not only that, but thousands of men and women suffer every day from sexual abuse, often in silence, yet it's still a problem we don't give the same airtime to as other issues. It's still an issue many people blame victims for.
Za početak se zapitajmo dvije stvari. Prvo: Zašto osjećam nepravdu? U mom slučaju više je odgovora na to pitanje. Netko je povrijedio mene i ljude koje volim pod pretpostavkom da neće odgovarati ili spoznati štetu koju je počinio. Ne samo to, tisuće muškaraca i žena pate svakog dana, zlostavljani su, često u tišini, ali je to i dalje problem koji nema pozornost kao drugi problemi. To je i dalje problem za koji mnogi okrivljuju žrtve.
Next, ask yourself: How, in recognizing these reasons, could I go about reversing them? With us, this was holding my attacker to account -- and many others. It was calling them out on the effect they had caused. It was giving airtime to the issue of sexual assault, opening up discussions amongst friends, amongst families, in the media that had been closed for too long, and stressing that victims shouldn't feel to blame for what happened to them. We might still have a long way to go in solving this problem entirely. But in this way, we can begin to use social media as an active tool for social justice, as a tool to educate, to stimulate dialogues, to make those in positions of authority aware of an issue by listening to those directly affected by it.
Sljedeće, zapitajte se: Kako, u prepoznavanju tih razloga, ja mogu djelovati da ih obrnem? S nama, ovo je bilo pozivanje krivca -- i mnogih drugih na odgovornost. Bilo je prozivanje za učinak koji su imali. Davanje medijskog prostora seksualnom zlostavljanju, pokrećući rasprave među prijateljima, obiteljima, u medijima koje su predugo zatvorene, naglašavajući da žrtve ne smiju osjećati krivicu za ono što im se dogodilo. Imamo dalek put pred nama u rješavanju ovog problema u cijelosti, ali ovako možemo koristiti društvene mreže kao aktivan alat za društvenu pravdu, kao alat za edukaciju, poticanje dijaloga, da bi ljudi na vlasti bili svjesni problema slušajući one na koje to direktno utječe.
Because sometimes these questions don't have easy answers. In fact, they rarely do. But this doesn't mean we still can't give them a considered response. In situations where you can't go about thinking how you'd reverse this feeling of injustice, you can still think, maybe not what you can do, but what you can not do. You can not build further walls by fighting injustice with more prejudice, more hatred. You can not speak over those directly affected by an injustice. And you can not react to injustice, only to forget about it the next day, just because the rest of Twitter has moved on.
Jer nekad pitanja nemaju lak odgovor. Zapravo, rijetko imaju. Ali to ne znači da ne možemo dati promišljeni odgovor. U situacijama gdje ne možete ići i razmišljati kako biste obrnuli ovaj osjećaj nepravde, još uvijek možete misliti, možda ne što možete učiniti, već nešto što možete ne učiniti. Možete ne graditi zidove boreći se protiv nepravde predrasudama, mržnjom. Možete ne pričati mimo onih na koje nepravda direktno utječe. Možete ne reagirati na nepravdu, samo da biste ju zaboravili sljedeći dan, jer je ostatak Twittera nastavio dalje.
Sometimes not reacting instantly is, ironically, the best immediate course of action we can take. Because we might be angry, upset and energized by injustice, but let's consider our responses. Let us hold people to account, without descending into a culture that thrives off shaming and injustice ourselves. Let us remember that distinction, so often forgotten by internet users, between criticism and insult. Let us not forget to think before we speak, just because we might have a screen in front of us. And when we create noise on social media, let it not drown out the needs of those affected, but instead let it amplify their voices, so the internet becomes a place where you're not the exception if you speak out about something that has actually happened to you.
Nekad je, ironično, ne reagiranje odmah najbolja prva reakcija koju možemo imati. Jer možda smo ljuti, uznemireni i energizirani zbog nepravde, ali promislimo naš odgovor. Pozovimo ljude na odgovornost, bez upadanja u kulturu koja uživa u posramljivanju i nepravdi nas samih. Sjetimo se te podjele, koju korisnici interneta često zaboravljaju, između kritike i uvrede. Ne zaboravimo misliti prije nego kažemo, jer možda imamo ekran ispred nas. Kada stvaramo buku na društvenim mrežama, ne dozvolimo da uguši potrebe pogođenih, dozvolimo joj da pojača njihove glasove, tako da Internet postane mjesto gdje niste iznimka ako govorite o nečem što vam se zaista dogodilo.
All these considered approaches to injustice evoke the very keystones on which the internet was built: to network, to have signal, to connect -- all these terms that imply bringing people together, not pushing people apart.
Svi ovi promišljeni pristupi nepravdi pozivaju temelje na kojima je izgrađen internet: da se povežemo, imamo signal, da se spojimo -- svi ovi izrazi impliciraju zbližavanje ljudi, ne udaljavanje,
Because if you look up the word "justice" in the dictionary, before punishment, before administration of law or judicial authority, you get: "The maintenance of what is right." And I think there are few things more "right" in this world than bringing people together, than unions. And if we allow social media to deliver that, then it can deliver a very powerful form of justice, indeed.
Jer ako u rječniku potražite riječ "pravda", prije kazne, prije primjene zakona ili ovlasti, dobijete: "Održavanje onoga što je pravo." I mislim da ima nema puno stvari koje su "pravije" u ovom svijetu od zbližavanja ljudi, od zajednica. I ako dozvolimo društvenim mrežama da to isporuče, onda mogu stvoriti vrlo snažan oblik pravde.
Thank you very much.
Hvala vam puno.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)