On Genocide and Hope

How can a man emerge from the shadows, his voice from the silence, and his will from amidst the rubble of present obscurity? He must become a new creation, forged by recollection of the lucid past nightmares, and pointed towards a future glory not recorded by history but known by the blinding light illuminating the horizon of human hope. He must not forget the past, and his memory must surge him into a future of action.



Part One: Our Common Condition

The same evil institution which has gripped murderous men and which has revealed itself through the horrors of history has also concealed itself in man's desire to find his own peace, in hope that he might escape the reality of a systemic injustice starving for the blood of humanity and for the right to become its god. But this desire for peace serves merely as a cover over what lies beneath which is no less destructive than its mature self revealed in evil action. It is unto death that we should nurture in our hearts this child which is destined to grow up as one with hands ready to commit atrocity, for such hands are not built for nor able to do good.

We have sought satisfaction in the destruction of those perpetrators posessed with this evil, but beneath the surface of our perceived reality, it is not to rid the world of evil people that we seek, but to rid ourselves of our own guilt, for we know that the seed of this forbidden fruit is buried within our very hearts. Should we be surprised when upon the full ripening of the fruit it seems good for food and is a delight to the eye? If we could discern its poison, it would be not consumed but discarded as inedible. But our knowledge has failed, for those who have eaten of it were not mad as we suspect but men and women like us all.

How then is this defiled soil watered which has become the bed for evil seed determined to reach fruition?  We have sent to the gallows men already long dead, an ironic act intended to annihilate death itself, but as we've looked upon hanging corpses in anticipation of innocence to be born of their guilt now suffocated, we’ve found only the appearance of innocence blanketing our own guilt. We have driven the scapegoat from our camp with our iniquities piled upon it, but since birth the animal has survived on the scraps from our tables, and we must cover our eyes as it returns again and again to dwell among us.