This danger explains why unconditional openness of the borders is not the best (as opposed to what we were calling the worst above); it is only the less bad or less evil, the less violence. Indeed, it looks as though the unconditional opening is not possible. There always seems to be factual conditions. Among all the others we must decide, we must assign them papers, which means that there is always, still, necessarily violence at the borders. At once, in hospitality, there is the force that moves towards to the other to welcome and the force to remain unscathed and pulled back from the other, trying to keep the door closed. Here too, in hospitality, we see Derrida’s idea of a “messianicity without messiah.” Because letting all the others in is impossible (but we must note that Derrida’s concept of possibility or virtuality, of the “perhaps,” is complicated; see in particular Politics of Friendship, p. 29), this de-closing is always to come in the future like the messiah coming or coming back (Derrida plays on the French word for the future, “l’avenir,” which literally means “to come,” “à venir”). We must make one more point. The impossibility of unconditional hospitality means that any attempt to open the globe completely is insufficient. Being insufficient, every attempt therefore requires criticism; it must be “deconstructed,” as Derrida would say. But this deconstruction would be a deconstruction that recognizes its own insufficiency. Deconstruction, to which we now turn, never therefore results in good conscience, in the good conscience that comes with thinking we have done enough to render justice.