In Search of the Lost Secret of Harmonious Coexistence
Malcolm X is sitting on a bench in a coastal park. A picturesque view of a harbor opens from it. On his way home after giving another public speech he decides to rest and ruminate over issues that bother him.
“Can I sit here?” a voice with recognizable French accent breaks the peaceful murmur, made of the rustling of leaves, sea waves and distant noise coming from the city streets.
“Why would a man ask another man such a question? Yes, I am a black man and you are a white man, but do any reasonable deterrents really exist that might set us back from sharing this bench? Do you know any reasonable deterrents that would make me protest against you taking this vacant place on this bench next to me?” answers Malcolm X immediately.
He speaks quickly and as he speaks looks straight at his interlocutor, who keeps standing near the bench.
“As I think about possible deterrents of which you ask, sir, I can't vocalize them as they seem to be not worthy any discussion, being pure superstitions. So, if you do not object, I will take this vacant place to be able to enjoy this incredible panorama in your company,” as Rousseau says this he cautiously sits on the bench.
“You seem to be a literate man, sir, still you can not identify hypocrisy in your own mind and in your own words. You tell me that you can see no reasonable obstacles for us to share this bench worth discussion, however
you ask me once again if I object. Hypocrisy seems to be something that you, white people, can't avoid. You, perhaps, can not really see it because you are accustomed to give it different names. I see testimonies of that
daily. American government is so proud of America's democracy, that is nothing but disguised hypocrisy,” replies Malcolm X[1].
Despite the assertive tone of Malcolm X, Rousseau looks inspired and intrigued. These few minutes were enough for French philosopher to recognize this man as a potentially fine interlocutor.
“Then call politeness hypocrisy, sir. What made me ask your permission for the first time was my mere wish to be polite. When I asked about your possible objections for the second time I was trying to be polite as well.
I am a product of my epoch, that inclines a person to obey rituals, but never his own intuition.[2] I suggest to continue this promising conversation calling each other proper names instead of keep naming the color of our skin. My name is Jean-Jacques Rousseau,”says he.
“My name is Malcolm X. This is the name I chose myself. Because of the slavery most of the black people in America have lost their genuine family names and lived their lives under the names their masters gave them.”
“Pleased to meet you, Malcolm. I have to say meeting you made me think that your people seem to know the price of freedom better than …
