Three Wishes (Part Three) The Protection Racket
Any struggle to survive quickly exposes the reality of power. If you want to paddle your own canoe to success, the "authorities" will bend over backwards to stop you. Under scrutiny, the government's prime function is revealed to be protecting the super-elite from little people. The establishment wants only dependent citizens, too meek to argue and too obedient to compete. Because as every shopkeeper learns, the shepherds of the state are servants of the wolves.
After bread and circuses, safety is -in the authoritarian's wet dream- the third essential which keeps the proles from rocking the boat; safety being the last of the ideal citizen's three wishes. By meeting this trio of desires the state assumes the majority will become cooperative, because they are stupid and easily satisfied. Which must be a comforting theory, for those looking down from a great height. Unfortunately, humans, be they ever so humble, are a little more complicated than that, especially when they acquire even a partial education.
Safety is promoted as the ultimate promise, the jewel in the crown of potential blessings from an all-powerful state. It is always to the myth of "safety" that governments return in their quest to crush dissent, because the handy flip side is "danger". Exaggerating danger, the establishment knows, is the best way to sell the illusion of security. Danger puts bums on seats, and fear keeps them there. The ethos underpinning every regime from Cuba to Cornwall is that a frightened citizenry is a compliant one.
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Like many grumbling greybeards, I grew up in the shadow of World War Two during the The Cold War. Government propaganda machine never stopped lecturing us that terrible danger -nuclear annihilation no less -was just a matter of minutes away. Every teenager in the seventies knew for certain that evil Russia and its communist allies were poised to fling the world into a cauldron of death and destruction, erasing humanity in a boiling stramash of mushroom clouds and scorched earth.
Fortunately, we were reassured, America and its European allies had been smart enough to build even more flying bombs and missiles than Russia, and so long as we kept the production-lines rolling, there was a good chance we wouldn't all be consumed in atomic Armaggeddon. God bless you sweet master!
But living in constant fear of the End of The World alters your outlook, and not always in ways our masters intend. A rather large amount of people -myself included- interpreted the ceaseless doom-mongering to be a green light for irresponsibility. If I'm going to die next week then I'm damn well going to enjoy this one. An appetite for hedonism, of course, is easier to pick up than put down.
Although I never personally attended university, a huge number of seventies kids did, and the attraction was blindingly obvious. Students were guaranteed at least three years of sex, drugs, rock 'n roll, and -get this, millennials- they payed you to do it. They didn't lend you the dosh and put you in debt; they just shook the money tree and set everyone loose on a party lasting 1000 days. An offer few would refuse.
A vast chunk of that generation was, by this one simple hook, addicted to the concept of self-indulgence at government expense. By the time they staggered out of the dope-clouds into the job-market, about half the best and brightest young minds in Britain had been trained in the art of minimum effort for maximum return.
Lazy, greedy and spoiled, this was a generation of lost boys and girls who were too easily gathered into the arms of the Socialist seducers. As a result a host of graduates came to view society with well-justified suspicion. A great number emerged blinking into the light of the real world convinced that adopting an idealistic agenda while getting wrecked had struck some non-specific blow to the forces of crony-capitalism. On some peculiar level, such graduates believed themselves heroic.
Post-graduation, the hammers and sickles went back into the toolshed as reality kicked in. In a delicious irony, veterans of the University of Hard Partying who "dropped out of the rat-race" simply cleared the path for the old King Rats to win unchallenged. In due course the bulk of degree-waving boomers would shed their ideals and clamber into employment before pairing up to breed, just as society expected.
It was this very generation that in 1997, pinned its political faith to a short but significant psychopath named Anthony Blair. A few years later he would reward them with the news that Iraq -whose missile collection couldn't hit a barn door- had somehow got some kit that could destroy London "within 45 minutes". Plus a brand new war to get behind. It was just like the seventies all over again....
From an elite doomspreader's perspective, the twentieth century went out with a whimper, after the startling collapse of the USSR defused the "atomic armaggeddon" threat. This was something of a problem. If government wasn't needed to protect the west from the Evil Empire, the proles might become inclined to take themselves a little more seriously and ignore the professional doomsayers.
After a half century of governance-by-fear, people were getting dangerously sceptical. Consider this: despite fifty years of pushing the Climate Catastrophe hoax, not one government anywhere ever dared offer its population a referendum on the issue. Yet today the entire economy of the west is being dismantled at 100 mph in the name of a deranged Green Agenda? Faith in government is not what it used to be, and by the year 2000 that had to be addressed.
The solution was simple, and in short order a series of fabricated crises were rolled off the globalist conveyor belt, starting with the obscene false-flag that was 9/11. Fear was back on the menu and you had to take the heat; there was no way out of the kitchen. [Read The Conveyor Belt of Emergencies HERE]
A new reign of global terror had begun and brother, don't we know it. The 21st century has barely seen a pause between apocalyptic boogie-monsters: Al Qaeda / Saddam Hussein / Libya / Isis /Syria / Covid / Ukraine...Monkeypox? (HAVEYA SEEN THE PICTURES?HAVEYA?)
It may be that the image of a child in a blank, snout-like face-covering will be the icon by which Covid is remembered. Not merely a historical turning point, but the brutal, public erasure of individuality; the silenced mouth and the staring, eyes of incomprehension. The unfree people of the west are back on the leash; terrified to look forward because on the horizon we see only more of the same.
In the days when they still feared the people, monarchs had no choice but to compromise. To save their own skins, a theatre of politics was created and marketed as 'democracy'. The illusion of this democracy was cobbled together around three wishes: bread, circuses and security. But while the illusion held sway, the elite grew stronger and more determined. Concealed beneath the theatrics, sheltered from the avenging mob, they built a prison around the planet, one screen at a time, while the people stared at the moving pictures, hypnotised.
The super-parasites are no longer afraid; the avenging mob has no core strength. The young assimilated into the web, males neutered, females bristling in confusion. New Gods roam the globe in gleaming jets and gigantic ships, gathering in scented clusters to fasten the last few links in the chain of global enslavement. There is no pretence, no concealment; they broadcast their intentions with pride. In steel-walled halls where wealth equals wisdom they preen and paw at each other, gorging on the fruits of crime while uniformed killers guard the doorways and unmarked helicopters circle above. The prize is almost within reach.
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