I think the first lyrics I knew - before even the Spice Girls - were to Les Miserables and Evita. I think both were my dad's purchases. He was strangely into political musicals. We went to see Madonna's Evita movie as a family when I was about ten, and my mother and I cried during "You Must Love Me" - we asked my dad why he didn't cry, and he said that he had already cried by himself years ago when he saw it on Broadway in London. And of course, there was his obsession with The Return of Martin Guerre. Oddly I think my mother is more an expert on things like the Mahabharata (her summary: "everyone dies"), as she's danced that.
He was strange. It's the most random things I remember. Most of it my mother's second-hand memories, stories she's told me, like him getting lost on one of those loopy highways in his VW Beetle.
The first CD I asked my father to buy for me was the soundtrack to The Lion King.
Sometimes listening to these soundtracks soothes me. Les Miserables reminds me of what I believe in. When my mother first met my father and learned he was a political scientist, she was skeptical, and asked about his views. He said, "saya demokrat sejati," which means, roughly, "I am a sincere, honest-to-God believer in democracy." Sejati means something incomparable in English - it implies a noble loyalty to an idea or a cause. It's comparable to semper fi.
"The answer to that question [how the Vietnam War transpired] begins with a basic intellectual approach which views foreign policy as a lifeless, bloodless set of abstractions. "Nations," "interests," "influence," "prestige" - all are disembodied and dehumanized terms which encourage easy inattention to the real people whose lives our decisions affect or even end."
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Anthony Lake (someone I really look up to) and Roger Morris; "The Human Reality of Realpolitik"
I got it from this article:
"Bystanders to Genocide", by Samantha Power. You should really read it.