It is an
indisputable fact: intellectuals are always wrong. Especially in politics.
Intellectuals are born to be wrong. And to mislead. They live in error and
mislead receivers who, without memory and often without intelligence, are
unable to judge them.
Intellectuals,
those little prostitutes of the present, without whom the present would not be
the sesquipedalian rainbow of politics—and its chromatic excrements—change
their attire when the political party whose manifestos they signed just hours
ago publicly collapses.
Collectors of
awards, press concubines, refined chatterers, puppets of democracy, buddies of
trivialities, and sellers of perpetually foreign merchandise, for the most
part, do not even rise to the level of university professors (which is saying
something, especially in an era when the university swallows all kinds of
impostures and masquerades).
Intellectuals,
like journalists and politicians, their relatives, live in the present but not
in reality. The present... that caricature of reality, that politicization of
life manufactured by journalism and mass media.
Elections are
for all of them a form of advertisement. Even a way of life. The spectacle of
democracy.
But elections
change nothing. Things arrive at elections already changed.
Another matter is that politicians need elections to ...
