Pomp


Arguably no word in the English language embodies the Atrocity more completely than the word pomp. Pomp. Pomp. Pomp, pomp, pomp, pomp, pomp. A word to describe that heady mix of solemnity and grandeur all fascist powers demand be acknowledged by those over which they lord. A display of magnificence, of splendour and pageantry as power and its lackeys promenade in front of a flock of sheep. Prancing apes dressed to the nines using symbols and empty signifiers to claim superiority, privilege, prestige and impunity. Why is it that the fascist State, just like the fascist Church, has been so enamoured of such parlour games, of the aesthetics of authority? Is it because, at their base, they are empty completely, and have nothing else but cheap theatre upon which to ground their claims to power?

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