104
" Racism is when it doesn't count. When they don't count. When one can do anything with them, it doesn't matter what , because they are not people like us. Do you see? Not our kind. When we can make use of them as we please, without losing face, dignity, honor. Without embarrassment, without making a moral judgement - that's it. When we can make them do no matter what degrading work, service, because their opinion of us doesn't count, because it cannot tarnish us. That's what racism is. "
― Romain Gary , Au-delà de cette limite votre ticket n'est plus valable
105
" The majority of the foreign workers who lived here were Mohammedans, still deeply traditionalist in their attitude toward the female body, and who tended to regard her revealing outfit as either an impertinence or an invitation.
[...]
— We're insulting them. We're behaving like racists. Walking around here like a pair of voyeurs, like visitors to a zoo...
[...]
— I simply don't understand.
— Can you see how they are looking at you?
— No. Besides, it's you they are looking at, more than me.
— That's it exactly. It's their way.
— Their way of what? Would you explain to me, for the love of heaven, what's going on here? What's bothering you?
I stopped short.
— Don't you know what racism is?
— But...
— Racism is when it doesn't count. When they don't count. When one can do anything with them, it doesn't matter what , because they are not people like us. Do you see? Not our kind. When we can make use of them as we please, without losing face, dignity, honor. Without embarrassment, without making a moral judgement - that's it. When we can make them do no matter what degrading work, service, because their opinion of us doesn't count, because it cannot tarnish us. That's what racism is. "
― Romain Gary , Au-delà de cette limite votre ticket n'est plus valable
112
" What is the real issue then, according to you?'
Scholscher was on the point of replying that men needed another company than their own kind, that they craved it desperately, like an almost physical presence, and that nothing on earth seemed big enough to satisfy that urge, those roots of heaven, as Islam called them, which were forever gripping and torturing man's heart, but he felt that this sort of talk, and indeed of thinking, ill became the Army uniform he was wearing. The feeling dated probably from the time when, as a young cadet at Saint-Cyr, the thin stripe of a sub-lieutenant had been all the horizon to which he aspired.
He smiled faintly at the memory of his youth. For a long time the Army uniform had remained for him the very symbol of what he had most fervently desired from the first metaphysical stirrings of adolescence: fidelity to a rule. This forbade certain attitudes, certain states of mind. So he kept his reflections to himself — all the more so since, these last years, he felt less and less need to exchange ideas with other men, because essentially they no longer came to him as questions, but as certainties. He had thus nothing left but minor curiosities. Sucking at his pipe, he gave the Dutchman a very friendly glance.
'What is the issue, according to you, if it isn't elephants?' Haas repeated, in a slightly menacing tone.
'Loneliness, I suppose,' said Scholscher vaguely. "
― Romain Gary , The Roots of Heaven
119
" He threw Scholscher a challenging glance. The major was thinking of the motives that could drive a man like Haas to live alone for twenty-five years among the elephants of Lake Chad. It was again that spark of misanthropy which most people carry in them, a presentiment of some different and better company than their own kind, a spark that sometimes blazes up and takes astonishing, unpredictable and explosive forms. He thought also of the old Chinese who never move without their pet grasshoppers, of the Tunisians who take their caged birds to the cafe with them, and of Colonel Babcock who spent hours with his eyes fixed on a jumping bean, which kept him company. He was slightly astonished to hear that Haas believed in God — there seemed to be a contradiction there; it’s true, he thought, taking a pull at his pipe, that God hasn’t got a cold muzzle a man can touch when he feels lonely, that one can’t stroke Him behind the ears, that He doesn’t wag His tail at the sight of you every morning, and that you cannot catch sight of Him trotting over the hills with His ears flapping and His trunk in the air. One can’t even hold Him in one’s hand like a nice warm pipe, and since a spell on earth after all lasts fifty or sixty years, it’s perfectly understandable that people should end by buying themselves a pipe or a jumping bean. "
― Romain Gary , The Roots of Heaven