Policies of hostility

I carry Mbumbi. He resumes in this inaugural composition that is in your hands some of the topics he discussed in his previous main works, where he personified, in "The Night Body of Democracy," the existence - stubborn - of original then functional violence that democracies cannot eliminate. It is about the violence of colonization and slavery, systems or frameworks associated with the emergence of modern democracies and then their activity, not only that, but it is also about the structural conditions of the democratic system. This diagnosis, which can be presented thanks to the current global genealogy of preparation that calls for belittling the other, becomes even more necessary especially since democracy has sought to produce a mythical discourse about its physiological cohesion. It lives, and claims about itself that it is a political body from which the initial violence was extracted, where moods are balanced and calm, and where barbarism and death are external forces, and where ultimately there is no other solution, for democratic life to survive, except by amputating the corrupt member bearing "evil" represented by Muslims and Blacks, foreigners, terrorists (or presumed to be so), Jews, immigrants, refugees, and all drowned. From here we understand why democracy today exhausts its energy in crushing a complete, unconditional hostility, where it must produce enemies, designate them, and eradicate them for its perpetuity. From reading this book in your hands, it appears that the stake for Mbumbi is not here, from the beginning, the stake of the precise analyst who merely leads the democratic actor, through years of internal exploration, to formulate concepts of his suffering himself, and to bear the weight of his history to deal with it in the present. And since the issue is "returning to the life that was abandoned and placed in the hands of death authorities," the diagnosis will also be an electric shock. Democracies have gone mad, making it impossible to "predict their behavior, chaotic forces without symbols, meaning, or destiny," and therefore, the patient work for liberation, in these circumstances, is "a challenge to common sense," as expressed by Frantz Fanon, in the letter he sent to the resident minister, Robert Lacoste, about practicing mental medicine during the colonial period in Algeria. Indeed, under Fanon’s auspices and "his pharmacy," Mbumbi positions himself. It begins with Fanon’s clinical clinic, which will inspire those beautiful pages in the third chapter, where he presents diseases of the colonized and settlers produced by the colonial bio-economic structure and also the anti-movement, exploring the topic of racism, a neurosis or "psychological deviation" that appeared in two main forms: biological racism and cultural racism, through the wounds they cause. And since the colonial system, as shown in the first chapter, is at the core of the democratic system, the democratic actor himself, whether racist or racialized, has become distorted — it is the same idea, but also the practice of recognizing the other, morally and politically, and self-representation, which has become impossible due to the racial construction of bodies and their interactions. And so, and in order not to make the de-estrangement work that is first carried out on bodies (electric shocks) then on minds (rebuilding personality)