"... there is no such thing as conscious scapegoating. Conscious scapegoating is a modern parody of this scapegoating which is of the order of propaganda, because it implies prior representation. But for me the first representation is really the sacred because if scapegoating works, that is, if you are not aware of the projection against the victim and if the scapegoating is unanimous..." (René Girard, in an interview with Markus Müller, Anthropoetics II, no. 1 June 1996)
Interview with René Girard
Frost Giant
I know you think it is wrong to hate (you do all your killing in a very dispassionate manner, and from your perspective that may be admirable). But consider, please, what grave injustice is served to me on a daily basis and the cruelty of the punishment.
What can I say in my defense, except: I have done many things wrong, but committed none of the crimes I am accused of. It would be laughable if I was to plead “innocent”; I use the term only in the context of law, regarding the documents you refuse to present and those odd testimonies from unnamed sources.
First of all, it is not true I wrote the red books, neither the very large one nor the small. If you examine the language closely you will see it is not my style at all.
Secondly, both wolves and serpents were among you long before I arrived. It is outrageous, the accusation I have somehow fostered the monsters that now haunt you.
Thirdly, I went to college with Baldur, this much is true; but the worst I ever did to him was to tease him he reminded me of this Isa all Romans worship.
Please remember I came to this country in friendship, and I have performed many services to your government, at home and abroad.
Perhaps we did not always agree, but in the past we were able to work out differences in a peaceable manner.
In contrast to what my slanderers say I never conspired against you or wished for your demise.
It is natural for an immigrant to have friends and acquaintances outside. Some of those have their own reasons to disagree with you; aside from theft and frequent trickery they also object to the raids to decimate their populations.
As an independent agent I had no clear orders or any sense of where you wanted to take us all, and when you are left to improvise, errors (or what is perceived as errors) are easily made. This does not constitute treason.
Often lonely – the only diplomat in the war chamber and, let us admit it, not very popular – I did seek some comfort in my many travels. It was nostalgia of a kind you cannot imagine, homesickness if you will.
Sometimes, when the pain is not too bad, it is as if I see a world of billions of lights and of precious stones in every color - one that has probably never been and may never come into existence. I do prefer it to the view of the barracks down below or any of the worlds I have seen, for that matter.
By the way: I do not worship a rock. This too is a complete misunderstanding.
I don’t know: Maybe it was something I said. But you killed Hothr too, and he was more harmless than his brother.
I am tired now: My heart aches constantly. My sons are not here anymore. If you have any love for me, you should at least inform me of their safety and good health.
The last report I had was from that terrible funeral, where the dwarf got killed. This is also objectionable.
You speak of an old hag, of a salmon in the river. What old hag and what salmon?
I do not know of mistletoe. I do not fish, nor do I use the bow and arrow. I simply don't understand these questions.
Sometimes I imagine I see my wife besides me, holding a cup. Then it is as if the pain subsides, and my head clears a little bit, and I pick up on composing or editing the letter I am planning to write to you (which is very difficult, because I must reconstruct it from memory again and again).
Since I am tied like this I do not know how I will deliver it to you. Perhaps I will deliver my urgent message by ship some day, not long after I am freed by my brothers and sisters, because there are many like me.
The moment of my triumphant return is also something I have often envisioned: My hair is long and grey then and my skin is very pale like yours and my eyes are like black shadows, almost resembling empty sockets. I am standing at the helm of a large fleet on a ship as bright as ivory.
I respect you a great deal, and I would not have stayed for as long as I have, if I had not been enamored by your culture.
In many ways my world would be better, if it resembled yours, but you must also understand that these are my people, and no matter how hard I tried… I know their songs and their symbols. We share our magic, like you share yours.
We are not that different, only opposed. We may be night and you the day, as you say, but the night will gain the upper hand on the day as frequently as the other way around.
This is why (it offends me they will see my warning as a threat) I feel burdened by the visions that come to me in my fever.
Among many other horrifying sights I have seen, there is one in which the sun is swallowed by a large wolf, and another of troop movements across the lands (and those are not to your advantage).
Whenever the guardian blows his horn, as often as the grass grows, I get an impression of a bridge collapsing, and I think it may be the rainbow.
Yes, I have insulted you in the past, an incident for which I am sorry. My reason to do this was artistic; I meant to employ methods from the theatre and somehow dramatize the subtle injury to my person.
This is why I showed up at the party uninvited and made those allegations, none however as vicious as the indictments stacked against me by so many accusers I cannot remember their names (also, constant torture makes it difficult for me to remember even the names of my loved ones).
What can I say in my defense, except: I have done many things wrong, but committed none of the crimes I am accused of. It would be laughable if I was to plead “innocent”; I use the term only in the context of law, regarding the documents you refuse to present and those odd testimonies from unnamed sources.
First of all, it is not true I wrote the red books, neither the very large one nor the small. If you examine the language closely you will see it is not my style at all.
Secondly, both wolves and serpents were among you long before I arrived. It is outrageous, the accusation I have somehow fostered the monsters that now haunt you.
Thirdly, I went to college with Baldur, this much is true; but the worst I ever did to him was to tease him he reminded me of this Isa all Romans worship.
Please remember I came to this country in friendship, and I have performed many services to your government, at home and abroad.
Perhaps we did not always agree, but in the past we were able to work out differences in a peaceable manner.
In contrast to what my slanderers say I never conspired against you or wished for your demise.
It is natural for an immigrant to have friends and acquaintances outside. Some of those have their own reasons to disagree with you; aside from theft and frequent trickery they also object to the raids to decimate their populations.
As an independent agent I had no clear orders or any sense of where you wanted to take us all, and when you are left to improvise, errors (or what is perceived as errors) are easily made. This does not constitute treason.
Often lonely – the only diplomat in the war chamber and, let us admit it, not very popular – I did seek some comfort in my many travels. It was nostalgia of a kind you cannot imagine, homesickness if you will.
Sometimes, when the pain is not too bad, it is as if I see a world of billions of lights and of precious stones in every color - one that has probably never been and may never come into existence. I do prefer it to the view of the barracks down below or any of the worlds I have seen, for that matter.
By the way: I do not worship a rock. This too is a complete misunderstanding.
I don’t know: Maybe it was something I said. But you killed Hothr too, and he was more harmless than his brother.
I am tired now: My heart aches constantly. My sons are not here anymore. If you have any love for me, you should at least inform me of their safety and good health.
The last report I had was from that terrible funeral, where the dwarf got killed. This is also objectionable.
You speak of an old hag, of a salmon in the river. What old hag and what salmon?
I do not know of mistletoe. I do not fish, nor do I use the bow and arrow. I simply don't understand these questions.
Sometimes I imagine I see my wife besides me, holding a cup. Then it is as if the pain subsides, and my head clears a little bit, and I pick up on composing or editing the letter I am planning to write to you (which is very difficult, because I must reconstruct it from memory again and again).
Since I am tied like this I do not know how I will deliver it to you. Perhaps I will deliver my urgent message by ship some day, not long after I am freed by my brothers and sisters, because there are many like me.
The moment of my triumphant return is also something I have often envisioned: My hair is long and grey then and my skin is very pale like yours and my eyes are like black shadows, almost resembling empty sockets. I am standing at the helm of a large fleet on a ship as bright as ivory.
I respect you a great deal, and I would not have stayed for as long as I have, if I had not been enamored by your culture.
In many ways my world would be better, if it resembled yours, but you must also understand that these are my people, and no matter how hard I tried… I know their songs and their symbols. We share our magic, like you share yours.
We are not that different, only opposed. We may be night and you the day, as you say, but the night will gain the upper hand on the day as frequently as the other way around.
This is why (it offends me they will see my warning as a threat) I feel burdened by the visions that come to me in my fever.
Among many other horrifying sights I have seen, there is one in which the sun is swallowed by a large wolf, and another of troop movements across the lands (and those are not to your advantage).
Whenever the guardian blows his horn, as often as the grass grows, I get an impression of a bridge collapsing, and I think it may be the rainbow.
Yes, I have insulted you in the past, an incident for which I am sorry. My reason to do this was artistic; I meant to employ methods from the theatre and somehow dramatize the subtle injury to my person.
This is why I showed up at the party uninvited and made those allegations, none however as vicious as the indictments stacked against me by so many accusers I cannot remember their names (also, constant torture makes it difficult for me to remember even the names of my loved ones).
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