Admitting a Dark Condition.

Many years ago I had root canal treatment on an infected molar. Unfortunately, a tiny piece of infected tooth was left at the very tip of the root and became a chronic condition. Mostly it lies dormant, but just occasionally it flairs up and reminds me that it’s still there. And here’s a psychological parallel:

I can’t come to terms with that horrible incident in Kabul in which a young woman was beaten to death by a mob. It seems she’d been arguing with a mullah, and he’d accused her – falsely as it turned out – of burning a copy of the Qur’an. The accusation was heard by somebody in the crowd and then a crazed, animal-like gorging on the madness of mob violence took over.

I find this incomprehensible. It doesn’t compute. It confuses me, and that confusion leads my mind to the tip of a root deep down where a tiny bit of residual prejudice normally lies dormant. I feel hints of racism and Islamophobia, and that isn’t good. I push them away and acknowledge the chronic condition openly. It helps, but I still don’t like it.