Keep calm and carry on
And just see where that gets you
A few months ago, I wrote about ignorance. Not yours, of course. Ignorance in the sense of ignoring things. Ignorance that gets expressed in such expressions as keep calm and carry on; expressions that encapsulate a sense that, when there’s nothing you can do about a situation, you just accept it. Here’s that article:
Act smart
The main difference between a shooting gallery and a rifle range is that, at the former, you’re there for fun and, at the latter, the aim is training in the use of guns.
What few realise is that, when they keep calm and carry on, something in fact changes: that keeping calm and carrying on is, in and of itself, an act, which has consequences. Something changes in them, and something changes externally to them.
What within them changes is a shift in their levels of acceptance. The things that are acceptable, the things that are okay. We express this with expressions such as These days!, What can you do?, Isn’t it terrible?!, Hee-ho ... It is not our job to right the wrongs that we perceive, so we accept them, and we internalise them, and they move, within us, the line—the moral line of what is and is not allowed—and, with that, we move the line—the moral line, of what we allow ourselves to do. And, externally, those who act in such a way as to shift the moral line within us observe how we react to their acts, and take note of those they can get away with with impunity, those against which there is push-back (and what the nature of that push-back is), and those which get staunched by a higher power. Each time you resist corruption, you make it easier for yourself to resist the next instance of corruption.
Mr Hamilton Nolan is a socialist with a persuasive mode of expression and a colourful use of language that, if it be deployed in the sense that you feel yourself, comes over as less colourful and, if it be not, you will condemn in a bid to defuse the arguments he makes of some of their power, because, primarily, you have no other armament to raise as a counter-argument: saying there’s no need to shout when there is patently great need to shout is not just counter-intuitive, it is the weakest argument of all. It is the argument of those who send riot police in to break up student encampments on university campuses: creating outrage in a bid to appear outraged; addressing the manner of the objection rather than its substance.
Hamilton’s recent contribution is worth reading, therefore, whichever of those camps you stand in, because he tells what I believe to be a patent truth: that the business interests that contrived to support the election of Donald Trump have mightily shot themselves in the foot, and that includes those who did not shower generous donations upon the Republican cause, but who idly stood by and acquiesced in what was happening, in the mistaken belief that it could not fail to feather their nests:
Mr Trump has announced that the US is moving into Gaza. D’y’know what? Without so much as having the inkling of a desire to read the Israeli reaction to that announcement, I think this is great news. This will allay all and any doubt about whether Mr Donald Trump is or is not pursuing policy that will make America great again. While opponents cry and wail against him for such outrageous imperialistic clap-trap that comes at the cost not only of the people whose land Gaza is but of the people his predecessor aided and abetted in securing for themselves, and who likely never suspected their Dutch uncle would come along and snap it out of their hands, Trump shows he is as good as his word. Because he never paused to define great in all of his campaigning, and if great, as the Brexiteering Britons envisaged it, means extensive land possession, then this territorial ambition chimes perfectly with Greenland, Panama and the 51st state to the north. And just think, dear IDF, not a single American soldier fell in the taking of it—they were all yours. I think Mr Trump will say thank you.
And from us, dear readers, from me and from you, I await with bated breath the protests against this outrageous policy edict. I await, with ears covered, the deafening cacophony of boo, hoo and down with America.
My shell-like is cupped to the wind.
It is permitted to shout, when shouting is all you have. Below is a clip, of someone who shouted once. It got him into hot water, but tell me he was wrong.
Ted Neeley expresses Jesus’s righteous indignation in the 1973 film Jesus Christ Superstar: The Temple scene.
A reader told me this week they can’t keep up with my output. You read what you want to read, and leave aside what you don’t. It’s up to you.
I am boycotting America as much as I can. No, I will not sell my clapped-out American car. That will not secure the downfall of Mr Trump, and buying the odd spare part—tariffs included—won’t bring him down either. But if you want to hurt him, you need to hurt his supporters. I know he’s doing quite a lot of that himself right this moment, but boycotting America is ultimately your way to say you agree with everything he’s doing.
Anyone I’m on WhatsApp with will soon be blocked, so ask me for my e-mail or contact me here if you need to get in touch. Yes, Mr Zuckerberg is off the Christmas card list as well.
Further reading:
They defy the law and the law is barely fighting back
We gather here in this great hall of justice, in the Peace Palace. We are reminded of these simple words: peace through justice, peace through law.
