I have to live where I live. The logistics of life dictate that. It’s a beautiful place, don’t get me wrong but for a long time I’ve felt that it needs its physical beauty to mask the ugliness that festers from deep within its core. People make a place so its character will reflect them and indeed, the facade of architectural beauty here masks any image of its foundation on slavery and dealing that has damaged much in our world but that didn’t matter as it brought wealth to a few. We all benefit from that. And so that became the norm, permeating every level of our society as each became desperate for a slice of the pie. No mean place.
There have been real examples of altruism throughout time but eventually these just set the benchmark for the perception of goodness to become part of the lie too. It seems to be genuinely believed that if you say you follow a belief system , then that exempts you from actually having to do so, or to bother with any of its doctrines covering personal behaviour.
A sweeping generalisation, I know, but take a look around, it’s everywhere. It’s even in the places I’d love to escape to, to get away from here, where the force of the bully has become its reputation more deservedly than anywhere else I know of (yet). James Christie gave the best description of this place and its people in his book ‘Dear Miss Landau’. Continue reading