Magyar News, 1995. szeptember-1996. augusztus (6. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1996-01-01 / 5. szám
Genes In «leans " \ Whenever one comes to a mile-stone, it is proper to take account of matters. This time we are at the beginning of a new year, stepping over from the old, and also we Hungarians are celebrating. 1100 years ago the migrating Hungarians conquered the land that we know as the Carpathian Basin, or as a state Hungary. Here, in the U.S. we, American Hungarians, should join in the celebrations and also take a look at ourselves and see if we lived up to our own obligations. This might be the right time to do so. _________________________________________J This title, Genes in Jeans, is playing with words. They sound alike, but they have different meanings. Recently, we learned much about genes, genetics, DNA, and procedures about them that made us stare with empty expressions on our faces. We really don’t understand in depth what the whole thing is about. Though it is built on scientific reality, for most of us it is just as mystical as the world beyond. On TV we saw, which in real life we never get to see, that the gene related matters had to be handled in sparkling clean laboratories. The scientists and technicians were not just in white smocks, but wore special headcovers and disposable boots. They have great respect for the genes. They know why. We don’t. Is it true that we don’t know anything about genes? Not exactly. Genes have been around since God put them here. The genes were here before you or I. We knew about them, our ancestors knew about them. Our way of life, as well as societies were organized according to them. The basic difference is that for us the genes were not in spotless labs. They were not abstract scientific formulas. They were people, they were in jeans, or in whatever rugged clothing people were wearing. We referred to them as people with German genes, Italian, Swedish, Mongolian or any other kind of genes. Somehow these minute little things brought people together or against each other in bloody battles. Those with one kind of genes dressed in battlefield fatigues that were covered with mud and wanted to get rid of those with some difference in their genes, who were also covered with the mud that wasn’t even suitable to bury corpses into it. Just look around. On one hand you see the extreme care and sophistication to create the best environment for the geneworld. On the other hand, you see hun dreds of thousands of people being eliminated from life because their genes made them blond, or brünett. There is a nice sounding word for it. The word might have been created in a spotless place, a library, a conference room, or just written down on a piece of paper and shuffled from place to place enlightening those who by chance read it. The word is genocide. In my life time, I had a few experiences about it. After the war, when people realized that “Uncle Stalin” has different genes, probably not even similar to his own people, they also realized the consequences. Uncle Stalin said it in a very graphic way. He said that the Hungarian problem is only a question of how many box cars are in the rail road system. So what would you say about things that are happening today? Neighbors, living next door to the Hungarians, the Serbs and the Bosnians practice it. What is it? Genocide! Driven by hate in the Balkan, some, in organized form, try to break down the genetic stnicture of the opposing people. They do it by murdering and by raping the women without mercy. Their goal is the have their own genes dominate within the land. These kind of genetic variations were known throughout history. In ancient times, the Hungarians had their share, too. It was common practice to fight another group of people and the victorious ones dragged home the women of their choice. So what happened to the off-spring? Well, they had the combination genes of both (continued on page 3)
