The barbarians

They are never far from wanting to pull out knives and machetes, to split the skin of criminals. Senator Boisvenu is not welcome in my home, but I know that the majority agrees with what he said.

The varnish of humanity is fragile, still freshly painted. It is a strange beast that the people who have been chanting to death for centuries just for the pleasure, no doubt, of seeing blood spill. Do we not understand that to rise, we must forgive, that to surpass the tooth against a tooth, we must abnegate ourselves? It’s easy to say, it’s a pitiful Christian prayer? A waste of public funds?

To hear, during the last few days, these vehement people, I tell myself that we must remember ad nauseam the horrors of the past. No wonder people live in unhappiness, they do not yet seem to have the ability to understand what drives them to grief. People get stuck in vinegar because of this perpetual taste of revenge that they have in their mouths, hate whose meaning and origin they no longer understand, when they could imitate their ancestors who, in war, demonstrated their courage to act differently.

It is discouraging to see that there are two types of barbarism, the visible one and the other, the quiet barbarism of ordinary people, who wait for their little hour of glory, lurking behind the executioners of the state, and who salivate at the thought of being able to skin their neighbor. We then understand that it would only take so little to back away because the headwind is too strong.

I’m not a saint, I don’t think I have the truth. Yet I am convinced, what I say, faith, that goodness exists. The world turns on infernal axles, life is short, fragile, death gives no gifts. However, there is a harmony and, when you guess it, you realize that it is right for everyone. This harmony is beyond us, so there is no point in fighting it with our ridiculous penknives.