In 2015 during the Iran Nuclear Talks the Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov was asked by an anxious journalist who was “extremely concerned about his ‘pessimism'” the following question ahead of a bilateral meeting with John Kerry in Losanne, Switzerland, during the P5+1 talks whether there is a possibility of striking a deal with Iran:
Sergey Lavrov mostly you’re not an optimist. Why is that?
As a self-conscious diplomat well aware of his predicaments, his reply was a brutally sincere one:
I’m not paid to be optimistic!
In my line of “business” which is the same as Lavrov’s: I can’t afford to be a Panglossian ignorati. Looking at the world from the very mountaintop that tempts me to despair as if I’m a 15th century Portuguese missionary trapped in the alienating cupola of the Orient – as succinctly dramatised in Martin Scorsese’s “Silence”, the despair of the Catholic desperados – and under the constant bewitchment of what the French interestingly call: l’appel du vide (the call of the void, the irresistible urge to jump of high places to end all the absurdities of this sophistry infested world once and for all), it would be unwise to be such a cheap jack of all trades “admiring” every buffoons “Magnum opus”. For everyone almost naturally claims to present his masterpieces to us, to our unquestioning eyes that are easily lured by the very gaze of the kitsch, the second-rate, the cheap, the exhibitionistic, it suddenly seems the world we inhabit today is swarmed with an advanced race of “sentient” beings who have transcended all the fragilities of humanity hitherto and have come to impart their ethereal “wisdom” to the last dregs of that episode of human history distinguished by its profundities in the “savage, barbarian, vermin, subhuman, dreg”.
The obscene absurdity of it all, of course originates in the very ineptitude of our societies to find the language and the sagely courage of the Griots to seek, find and impart their own tales through their own tongues. Instead, we’re unwittingly proselytised by the “Holy waters” of the Romance languages which are taken a priori and prima facie as the “the ultimate expressions” of human apotheosis. In this version of “history”, the oldest Ancient universities of Alexandria, Fez, Timbuktu and Marrakesh that begot the first race of European intellectuals such as Aristotle, Herodotus, Strabo, Eratosthenes, Pliny the younger and the elder, even Alexander the great himself, are repetitively portrayed in the “history” books of the Anglo-Saxons making as “illiterate, without school of thought of their own and most importantly species condemned to eternal stupidity” (even though we don’t yet know who did the Scholastic excommunication).
In the end, after more than a baker’s dozen years of “education” our society ends up with a “middle class” (despite there being no evidence that supports its middleness) that incessantly preaches the perilous and poisonous gospels of a once peasant race of vandalizers as the “apex of human civilisation and a harbinger of a coming age of hope and prosperity”. To our utter disgust, the primeval originators of the very often satirised and plagiarized notion of civilisation become the “enemies of true progress” while the usurpers take the throne as “the only protectors of the last vestiges of human ingenuity and the possibility of hope”. And that’s the principal reason we these days have carceral schools full of blind seers who could not see past the immediate moment of present mindedness that promises the pupils, “the disciples of charlatan witchdoctors” nothing more than employment, food security and sexual satisfaction.