Stammering through the broken stairs of her inconsistent articulation, the old lady finally disgorged the words, “he is an Arab”, a cerebrum ricochet of verbatim was psychologically excruciating for me, then I realized that this old lady is seeing a hologram of living hate created around her by merchants of vandalism who see their destiny in division of human beings on the basis of color, creed, ethnicity and race. Her intellectual insight sifts only through the legends of racial disparity, unwilling to accept the equality among the equals, a classic victim of the philosophy of stereotype.
Race serves as a linchpin in the culture of political hate, an established institution that fragments societies thus enabling a ruling oligarchy to stay in power; terrorism has been adopted as a blessing, a formidable and most venomous armory in culture of moral and political pillage; a tool that devastates every truth in its infancy, disparaging all those who wish to seek it.
I wonder if politics of power would always be politics of plunder.