The Skin of Sorrow | The duty

They give them enough to resist, but never enough to win. Ukraine is fighting against a wall behind which there is another wall, and so on. Already, imperceptibly, at the corner of a social network, a poll or even a few furtive Ukrainians, the shadow of a tired body is sketched in charcoal, of a deceptive look and no longer daring to hope for the volume of arms and ammunition that would change the course of history. This gaze is similar to that of the Syrian rebels who helplessly watch the return of a largely dubious, but despotically cooperative friendship between Syria and Egypt. Also similar to that of the Congolese women raped by the M23 militia and whom Denis Mukwege heals and repairs by drawing inspiration every day from all the strength of women.

But will this strength be enough in the face of the indelible hatred that binds the world in us and around us?

All these doctrines, openly liberticidal, plague souls to the point of finding them a comfortable niche in our already wobbly democracies from within. Relativism, negligence, delays, corruption and demagoguery invade speeches and non-actions where cynicism responds to cynicism. Increasingly creeping compromises eye totalitarianisms under cover of our well-meaning but increasingly ineffectual opposition. There are courages that look more and more like a rope ladder stretched over an abyss of ignorance, that sewer of intelligence that makes excessive wealth obscene.

Then, just like this scroll of sadness, the insatiable satisfaction of desires will eventually diminish the life force until time has done its work. In other words, if we persist in our short-sightedness and the narrowness of our actions, democracy itself will continue to shrink its fragile skin.

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