At last I see the light
THERE is no doubt in my mind at all that I have become a stranger living in a strange land. When I risk leaving the world of Old Farm (my home) I do so with great trepidation because out there is becoming more alien to me on a daily basis.
Sometimes I wonder if my memories of a different time are false because it seems almost impossible to believe what was considered OK then is now clearly the domain of misogynistic, homophobic fascists hell bent on exploiting the planet until it burns in a red hot fire. At the time my parents didn’t seem to be so evil.
I was so gullible that I believed them when they fed me the line that farmers were good people doing their best to feed an ever-growing population with wholesome food and even that cows’ milk was beneficial to our health. Now I know the truth of the enslavement of cows and the unspeakable tortures inflicted upon them, including non-consensual insemination. But still in the back of my mind is the false memory of happy herds of cows contentedly grazing and chewing the cud.
And in giving me a happy and carefree childhood I didn’t realise that my parents were just trying to hide their terrible chosen way of life. I realise now that I made the same mistake with my children. I hope my daughter is constantly telling my grandson that his life is already doomed because within 10 years this planet will be unable to sustain life as we know it today.
Hopefully she shows him pictures of the species that have become extinct that day and the more gruesome the final last breaths of each of them looks then so much the better. A good selection of post-apocalyptic novels will be useful for him to prepare for his future, as will survivalist YouTube videos.
I also didn’t realise that I should have trained and encouraged my children to be activists. I can see from the news that even toddlers are now able to carry placards they can’t actually read yet. Growing up, I thought it was only the loony left and bored students who would cause chaos in the interests of preventing some nefarious practice but now all children need training in resisting the police or sticking themselves to roads.
Having left school at 17 I realise that I don’t have the benefit of the extensive education common today but I really wonder how I missed the fact that there are over 100 genders. I’m afraid I only knew of two. How stupid was I? But in my defence, everyone I knew had made the same mistake.
But now our beloved library is making certain that the current pre-school generation will be absolutely grounded in all gender possibilities by taking positive action to put other genders before them at that early age. That’s a good thing. Isn’t it?
Even great institutions like the BBC, which I was brought up to trust and believe in, has been revealed as yet another myth which has been well and truly busted. The impartiality seemed so credible that we were all drawn in to believe that was what made it so great. But now we know, as confirmed by John Humphrys, that it has learnt its lesson and by adopting an institutionalised liberal bias when employing and ensuring all successful candidates have had a minimum of three years being taught by left-wing academics it is now the Woke institution of our Age.
I know that if ever I’m slipping back into the habits of the past or if some of the politically correct narrative I read in the media is starting to unravel then I just have to tune into Radio 4 to be turned back to the light. Of course the BBC should have an LGBT correspondent. It makes perfect sense. Doesn’t it?
I am however finding a greater need to avail myself of Radio 4. It may be becoming an addiction but I’m hopeful it is just a reaction to the Equality Legislation consultation and dialogue that is going on around it.
For instance I read Richard Digard’s column on the subject and fully agreed with him. His whole premise made sense and his extreme examples helped to make the issue clearer. I thought to myself how sensible it sounded.
Sensible? That’s when the alarm bells went off in my head and my subconscious screamed ‘Radio 4 now!’ at me. Throwing caution to the wind I asked Alexa to play Radio 4 without even checking if it was time for The Archers (there are some things even I can’t take) and I immersed myself in the feminist ramblings of Woman’s Hour (yay the Sisterhood) and gradually the miracle happened.
How dare Digard have a view that doesn’t conform to the Message? And how dare he use descriptive words, even in jest, that haven’t passed the lips of a liberal this century. For a moment the devil on my shoulder suggested that surely everyone deserves to be heard but the liberalism wafting over me in clear (though often regional for diversity) BBC tones soon reinstated my belief that there can be only one Message and that Message must be that of the liberal left.
But sometimes in the middle of the night my brain tries to make sense of today using the morality and values of my childhood. It always fails. The concept of free speech, the ability to respect both sides of an argument, the understanding that issues are more likely grey than black and white and the overarching principle that practicality trumps ideology are so ingrained in my psyche that today confounds me.
I’m pretty sure the liberals out there feel the same about my world. In their ideological world they focus on humanity. In my discredited morality I focus on the people around me, my island and events that I can influence. I am pained as much as they are about starving people in great continents, but I feel more for my neighbours and fellow Sarnians who are struggling and need help.
Am I really wrong?