The Coincidence of Geological and Political Fault Lines

Afghanistan belongs to what Peter Sloterdijk calls the “Pangaea of the Regularly Irregular.” One year before his death in December 2010, the “Bulldozer” is on his way to a meeting with Afghan tribal leaders in the latitudes of the Third Pole. A series of terrorist attacks shaking Kabul, along with suicide bombings in other parts of Afghanistan, may well be linked to the presence of the coarse-grained, shirt-sleeved U.S. special envoy Richard Charles Albert Holbrooke. Because of his rough manners, some call him Dick. The “architect of the Dayton Agreement” prefers to be called Richard. He explained as much to his superior, Obama.

Holbrooke’s mission could hardly be more delicate. His convoy, protected by an additional diversionary maneuver, crosses territory that is explosive both geopolitically and geologically. Arizona Jakarta leads the security team.

The emissary is tasked with assessing circumstances whose fatality Peter Sloterdijk formulates in universal terms. What can be observed are “overlaps of partial energies, none of which is strong enough to prevail, and none resigned enough to lay down its arms ... (These are) regions without a dominant power, without courts, and without compensation ... intermediary worlds of infiltration, subversion, and coagulation ... currents of strategically directed resentments and fabricated news.”

“The Himalayas and their adjoining regions ... experience continuous compression as a result of the ongoing convergence of the Indian and Eurasian plates.”

Interested Neighbors

At the geographical periphery stand Pakistan, India, and Iran. Pakistan only ostensibly supports the “War on Terror.” From the Pakistani perspective, Taliban terrorism serves to wear down the American will to intervene. The regional powers keep a wary eye on one another. Pakistan fears a growing Indian influence. At the same time, the Taliban seek to transform Pakistan into a caliphate.

Alexander Kluge speaks of “frozen and virulent conflicts.” Sloterdijk speaks of a gray-zone globography. He writes:

“No atlas of civil wars, no encyclopedia of deficits is capable of encompassing the realm of gray zones; none of the customary worldviews captures it. Historians of empires share a tendency to overlook the existence and extent of the gray-zone phenomenon ... no foreign ministry truly knows what is happening out there, where irregularities are left to themselves. More than one hundred state-like semi-anarchies under flags brood upon the planet within themselves, usually ignored by the surrounding world, lingering in the half-shadow of more glaring conflicts, fixed in the medium term to the rocking motion of rising and falling corruption indices. Even the most well-intentioned cosmopolitan eventually grows weary enough to cast the cloak of benign neglect over regions whose conditions, if known too well, would produce nothing but unhappy consciousness—in other words, mental stress without any possibility of action.”

Cornelius von Pechstein is presenting these ideas in an ancient lecture hall at Landgrave Philip University in the Eder Valley. Alisa and Virgil are only half listening. Meanwhile, the meditation room in the campus pavilion has become part of the couple’s romantic routine. Both are preoccupied with thoughts of each other. Virgil’s gaze falls upon the softly tanned skin visible at the neckline of Alisa’s low-cut top. The sight unsettles him. He reaches toward her neckline. The intimate touch sends a shiver through Alisa.

“Take off your bra and give it to me,” Virgil says. Alisa glances around. The audience is focused on Cornelius. She slips free of the garment—a skill perfected in swimming pools and gymnasiums. Virgil takes it and holds it beneath his nose with evident pleasure. Naturally, this does not go unnoticed. His hand traces the contour of her shoulder, glides across her collarbones, and lifts her chin.

Tell me that you love me. That you want to stay with me and build a family. That you will lie beside me every night until death parts us.

Alisa does not stop him. Instead, she blocks out her surroundings. His hands return to her chest and caress her. Virgil’s touch arouses her, and she lets out a soft moan.

At that moment she awakens.

She has fallen asleep alone on her sofa at home and realizes it was all a dream. A feeling of disappointment comes over her. Yet the emotional intensity of the dream lingers. Almost involuntarily she touches herself. In her imagination she is naked, and Virgil is with her. He bends over her, and she reaches for him.

Suddenly, however, she experiences Virgil’s absence as such a profound lack that she cannot continue the fantasy. She casts a brief glance into the mirror and then hurries off. Riding her bicycle to the university, she soon finds herself no longer alone in his office. She throws herself into his arms. He understands the urgency of her feelings and turns her around in one fluid movement.

“Show me how much you want this.”

Alisa lifts her dress, removes her underwear, spreads her legs, and arches her back.

“So much,” she says sincerely.