Enemy

The way you use Nietzsche, Levinas or Lacan is not reassuring; it’s embarrassing.

You may impersonate someone else as an actor or a mountebank but you may not become someone else. Yet becoming other seems so attractive an endeavor to many people that I feel like speaking as a performer. I feel so because performance is my way of not being dead.

I found this way out of feeling occupied by other people’s desires and infortunes. By the time people became aware that capital had become sovereign over elected governments, crisis became the very voice of ideology. Eventually, occupation became the main action of a populist intelligentsia, the panacea for democracy’s engulfment by a governing class.

Back then, I knew I did not belong to the tribe of the saviors. Almost anyone could see oneself as a savior. Being wealthier allows you to believe you are among the most worth governing but being poorer gives your morality free reign. The sense of injustice and the feel of divide are common heritage, so why are stories about princes falling in love with peasants still so attractive? Why do such fictions still fuel the fantasy of social mobility?

Are you now wondering about the connection between performance and class struggle? Do you believe in connections rather than enmeshment? I see our complicity rather than their conspiracy. Why not bath yourselves in 5-cent coins? Why not emulate Judith’s victoriously interrupted coitus with the severed head of Holofernes? Killing is not a privilege of the powerful; it is an illusion of power. You shall not kill your enemy because there is no such thing as an enemy other than yourself.

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