There is no doubt that WMD exists.
Nor can there be any debate over the fallout . . .
leastways not now they’ve been deployed with such intensity and brought into sharp focus.
Will the physical show of strength (or weakness) revealed these last three months by Russia’s thuggish invasion of Ukraine, be the last of those primitive and expensive wars? For now, they’ve been replaced by a new breed of terrorists equipped with the novel, far less expensive but devastatingly effective, weaponry.
As with most things claiming to be new, the novelty is not in its sudden invention but revealed in the purpose and application.
Some would say, with honest justification, we have collectively mugged ourselves.
We are not, of course, talking of nuclear warfare but Weapons of Mass Distraction — the deliberate creation of bursts of ‘enabling’ chaos that distracts attention from deeper, dirtier, more insidious, agendas.
In much the same way as the NRA shifts blame away from guns and gun-trading towards the inadequacies of poorly trained and delinquent gun-owners, so the dark forces of free-market fundamentalism prefer to point towards insufficient financialization. They cannot be having wealth in the wrong (incompetent) hands and their solution is that everyone should grasp for more of it — and those who, irrationally, fail to grab opportunities deserve to lose. The terrorists’ weapons of choice for the enslavement of the planet have massive power and devastating influence — WMD — for who can resist the ultimate spirit-zapping terror?
Under the radar, the new WMD are elusive, cloaked in Machiavellian intrigue, rarely exposed, and grown under cover — cover that can be quickly denied as preposterous, for those who cannot yet believe in the new monetary muscularity. We now know we must change, must kick fossil-fuelled habits. We cannot shift the blame and, if we cannot resist media manipulation, we will be left with little choice.
The central question is about the scope for defense. We few are determined to survive the onslaught of terrorists. We few resist — not because the odds seem overwhelming, and we’ve always longed to go out in a best-selling blaze of glory on some mission impossible. No. We choose to resist, now. Now we know that many others have the intellectual capacity and resolve to turn minds to the task of defeating a greater existential challenge.
Our planet, the place we call home, is being driven to extinction by terrorists — the free-market fundamentalists — the deceivers who believe that they alone control these mind-zapping Weapons of Mass Distraction.
The brain-scrambling impacts of repeated artificial crisis creation, and ‘re-framed’ shifts of normative nonsense, reduce the populace to pliant conformance. The fundamentalists believe they have taken back control. But we few recognize the dystopian dangers.
We. Will. Not. Have. It.
Every day we hear again the words of the late great Bernard Levin dismissing this hour’s crackpot chaos as, ‘One of the popular substitutes for five minutes thought’. Nor, thank you, kindly, do I need to know my credit rating.
As societies collapse under free-market fundamentalist double-speak,
as governments fall apart at the seams,
as so-called ‘populists’ are swamped by tides of revulsion,
our refocus must start in small pockets, in locales, in places that never before have been so driven to be united.
Repairs will take time. Old borders and divisions will be erased. Sovereignty must be reconsidered as ‘knowing your place’, literally meaning close familiarity in caring for a small patch of our planet. New alliances must and will be forged to start mending the divisive damage caused by the pursuit of endless growth.
And in this transition, our future young people will ask, ‘Growth, for what purpose, exactly?’ Their injection of purpose, replacing the terrorists’ wealth-hoarding credo, will steer us all away from crackpot dystopian drugs. The wreckage of war, like the aftermaths of pandemics, cannot be mended to replicate the past. We seek far more than a restoration, or reconstruction. We seek nothing less than a renaissance of civilization.
Maktub — for it is written.