It is now Spring. Our magnolia is in full bloom as is the jasmine in our front garden. Then there are the daffodils and celandine. For all this, you might think that all is well with the world, but oh no! It isn’t. There’s a war raging out there, perhaps 3,000 miles away in the Middle East or if these things matter to you, in West Asia. Iran and Lebanon are being battered and pummelled by bombs and missiles. Everyday, there are reports of further damage but little reporting of the human cost, the death of innocent civilians, men, women, children, whose hopes and dreams are cut short and buried in the ruins of their homes and neighbourhoods.
This is what carnage is. The Great Leader first used this word in 2020 at his first inauguration. It was a surprising word to use, it was astonishing that he chose to describe the USA, a prosperous country, as an example of carnage. This ought to have been the wake-up call to everyone, that his description was a far cry from the facts, and that if that was what he saw, then his perception was at variance from everyone else’s. That the carnage that he saw was a mirror of his inner life and that we were on notice, for the likelihood was that he would want to project unto the world the chaos and the inner ruination that consumed him.
The Great Leader’s first term was bad enough but this second term has shown what his pitiless, ruthless, interior core is composed of. We are unlucky to inhabit a world in which the Great Leader has been given permission to foist his agues on us, and to foster, to water and nourish, whatever it is that ails him. All his fevers and ruinous exhalations, all his corruption, the foetid and foul, these he has made visible and immanent in our lives.
The failure is gross. A failure of democracy, of governance, of the architraves and handrails, the caryatids that hold up and sustain what is upright and upstanding. But ultimately, it is a failure of Reason.
How could anyone have missed the absence of Reason? Is it possible not to notice, in the rambling soliloquys, that the Great Leader is deranged? The skirting boards are misaligned, the torrent of words like badly laid railway tracks, askew and off-centre. That he is cloaked in the nakedness that are meaningless words, repetitive and meandering, tumbling and incoherent, emptiness pretending to fluency. Did the visiting ambassadors, the courtiers, vassal emissaries, the other principals and their coterie of analysts, not recognise what has been plain to see, the tragic absence of Reason.
Each day we read a message that exhibits a profound loss of Reason: “You know I’ve known Jesus for a long time. He often says, “Donald Trump, we are really close friends and my father is happy that you’re making America Great Again. It’s my favourite country.” When he saved my ear from the bullet he whispered in my ear, the one that was saved, and said, “The whole world owes you a debt of gratitude for being so Christian and having perfect morals.” If I had heard that in the clinic, my conclusion would have been certain and prompt!
In the grip of UnReason, what is it that is not possible? There have been not so subtle threats of the use of nuclear weapons. We have had cruelty amplified to terrorism- children snatched from parents, innocent people killed, homes and natural sanctuaries desecrated, all to please the Great Leader. And then there’s the protecting of rank paedophilia, the ducking and weaving, the lies and prevarication, the overt and blatant obfuscation, the obvious distraction from what is already foul-smelling in the plaza. The fear is whether the Great Leader will pull down the temple to save himself and jeopardise all our lives in the process.
It is Spring. The world is awakening after the deep slumber of Winter. But outside, the world is burning. And March Hares in their frenzied, erratic and unpredictable behaviour are stirring. Madness is in the air.
Photos by Jan Oyebode
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