On Dictators

Key West Poet Laureate Kirby Congdon (Photo by Richard Watherwax)

by Kirby Congdon…….

Donald Trump’s reference to the age of the dictator of North Korea, Kim Yong Un, came as a surprise. To be 27 with all that power is revealing for both of them. Love and affection seem to have been denied them in their early development as human beings. The thrill of saying, “You’re fired!” or in executing an annoying uncle replaces the attention and independence they feel they have missed out on. Other more rational ways to be recognized and appreciated is to exploit an inborn talent or calling. Sharing it shows it off. If you have no particular talent then one can learn a skill, whether it is juggling or in being outstanding in some sport. Other solutions are to be a good citizen, a soldier who is gung-ho, a disciple of someone you admire, or just by being very obedient. You assert yourself by manipulating your progress by self-discipline The reverse of this is to discipline others. Have you noticed the extreme use of the body that soldiers who are marching display in North Korea? There is no grace or efficiency. It is a form of acrobatics that approaches the inhumane, like some kind of wind-up mechanical doll.

Destructive behavior ultimately destroys the destroyer. We can see this so easily in the refusal of the North Korean dictator to compromise, or communicate rationally. He is unable to break through his own iron armor that he has dressed himself up in because he has no other identity. We build prisons not to get even so much but more because an inmate is no longer able to grow out of his neglect and develop as a human being. Development is beyond his reach, the problem being too deep and complex to swim or climb out of, especially without that help that was most important when it was most needed.

The vulgar aggressiveness or deliberate alienation of people is probably rooted in one’s own feeling of neglect from the outside or in a feeling of incompetence within ourselves. That root cause can also be seated within an injury to our egoes that has never healed as it continues to bleed through the squeaking layers of our defensive armor.

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