"Because the corporations running the USA need that pipeline. It's not just something they'd like to have. They need it. The only way they can keep their present level of profits and hold on to their economic advantage is if they keep cheap oil flowing in. And that means controlling the pipeline.
"These wars aren't about whether the USA will get the oil it needs. With a world market, no one can stop the USA from buying oil. The wars are about how much they're going to have to pay for it and how much they can control it. Dominating oil will give them economic leverage over other countries, and that's what they're after.
"They don't care how many people they kill to do that. They're not people themselves. They're corporations. They have to maximize their profits. That's the basis of their existence."
"What do you see in the future?"
"In forty-five minutes I go to the restaurant and start making salads. That's all." Jamal stood up and pulled some folded paper out of his jacket. "I brought along something I wrote. If you want, you can put it in your book. It's sort of a fable. About the damage being done to the most important resource in my country." He handed me the pages:
Malalai
The laughter of young Malalai delighted the villagers whenever they heard it, which was often. They listened with silent smiles, for to have laughed in response would have broken the charm.
Laughter streamed from the girl in floating spheres of sound that reconnected everyone who heard it to an inner happiness they'd forgotten. The villagers never knew when she might laugh, but they'd learned that two things never caused it: someone's misfortune or an attempt to make her laugh. They had to wait and be surprised.
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