In a twisted fable, I wrote about this theme in Crever mon fils. In humans, it is a particular feature that the weak survive. No matter what is said or done, in the so-called developed countries, society takes care of the wounded, the disabled, those who seem to produce nothing. There is a very grey area in our functioning. On the one hand, they are left there, ready to be devoured by fate (which is no longer interested in them), and on the other hand, we are reluctant to abandon them. We will say that we have evolved and that we have gone beyond the animal stage and that we must thus give glory (to God or to the cosmos) to our humanity, that our good conscience is our plank of salvation. I don’t believe that. A pretentious spirit who believes he has freed himself from Nature.
Indeed, the human race is exceptional, dominates the planet, never ceases to invent and produce wonders. It possesses this refinement to understand suffering and tries to save those who seem doomed to drown from sinking.
However, clinging to the shadow of this same race, violence continues, and indifference is total. That is the paradox. Man always remains a wolf for Man, Woman can be a Rome that is just as bloodthirsty and conquering. And that is why, despite our good intentions, the failures are quickly removed from our minds.
Our speech is full of flowers, but our actions, those that really matter, cross their fingers behind their backs knowing full well that they will not keep such promises. The game of trial and error continues. Do we really know the rules?