WTF Is Happening To Us?

By Dr. Robert Harris

Political correctness. Gender differentiation. Black lives matter. Riots. Democracy under fire. Loss of civil rights. Social media out of control. Metaphorically lobotomizing our children. Socialism. Failing education systems. Flourishing crime. The human plague. The sixth mass extinction of bio-diverse life. A serving U.S. President who trashed

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publicious Book Publishing
• Release date: Apr 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9780645118919

Book preview

1

WHAT’S ALL THE FUSS ABOUT?

Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.

Confucius

Chinese philosopher and politician (551 – 479 BCE)

Looking back at my over eighty plus years of earthly tenure I am shocked at the level of negative change that has been imposed on us over the course of the past two or three decades. Our world and our individual and collective freedoms, the very fabric of our earthly existence, are being eroded by sinister forces whose collective agenda is to destabilize society in order to create anarchy, believing that out of chaos comes control.

This new wave of socialist-leftist activism will seize any convenient event, malign it and use it as a weapon to further their cause of social destruction. They condemn racism, yet they have inflamed racial tension to new heights in order to use it to further their cause. A recent example is the unfortunate and unnecessary death in Police custody of African-American George Floyd. The global demonstrations, riots, and lootings that followed were not just about ‘black lives matter’—they were about seizing the opportunity to further inflame public sentiment in support of their subversive agenda of creating civil unrest.

WTF is happening to us? is a book I had to write. Is it correct in its detail? That will be for you to decide, but what I see is a race of modern-day humans, the dominant species on this planet, rushing headlong towards self-destruction and annihilation. It is not just destructive in the sense that we are making our lives miserable, corrupting young minds with mindless left-wing propaganda, and rendering our environment incompatible with human habitation, we are taking every other lifeform with us. I didn’t sign up for this, and I’m sure there are many out there who agree with me.

What can I do, you ask? Well, as an individual not very much, but if we become a united voice we can help stem the tide of the left-wing destructive rhetoric and action that is currently consuming us, and hopefully wake people up to what is happening around them.

The ideals we once held about honesty, decency, good manners, concern for our neighbours, putting family first, defending our country against aggression and tyranny, protecting democracy and free speech, are being effectively eroded by activists who have adopted a distorted agenda of what they think is right for us all. If left unchecked, their delusional and self-indulgent remedies for curing the ills of their distorted view of an ailing world, which they have in no small way helped to create, will be our nemesis.

We, the members of a decreasing percentage representation of the human thinking population need to take action. If we don’t act decisively the freedom, wellbeing and economic future for us, our children, our grandchildren and their children, may be compromised beyond all hope of redemption.

Our plight brings to mind a wonderful statement attributed to Edmond Burke (1729-1797), Irish political philosopher, politician and statesman who is often regarded as the father of modern conservatism, he wrote…The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.

Just as insightful is his quote…The people never give up their liberties but under some delusion.

And that is precisely what is happening to us. It’s time for each of us to stop being taken as fools.

What we are facing is not a problem we can sit by and leave to that well known cliché, the ‘others’ to solve. The concerned among us who do not take up the yolk of burden, choosing instead to prevaricate or to ignore the obvious, will be judged guilty by virtue of our inactivity. If we are going to stem the erosion and destruction of all that we hold dear we, the good men and women among us who care, need to heed Edmond Burke’s words and cease doing nothing, and take collective and decisive action.

We are at the crossroads of a threat to the ongoing existence of life on this planet—our presence perhaps more precarious now than at any time in human history. We are the architects of the sixth extinction of life on Earth, a disaster that is now in play. We are in the process of handing our security, our freedom, our safety, our future and indeed our lives into the custody of others who for selfish or delusional motives, or just plain stupidity, are effectively taking all of these hard won rights and expectation away from us.

The road to the relative freedom we have today has been littered with the lives and dreams of those who came before us, men and women who stood up in an attempt, each in some small way, to make life on Earth a more enjoyable experience, free of the oppression suffered at the hands of tyrants. We owe it to them, the martyrs of freedom in all of its wonderful forms, and we owe it to us, and to those who will inherit that which we bequeath them, to get off our collective derrieres and oppose the destructive forces that our righteous forebears fought so hard to overcome.

I fervently believe that nothing should be torn down without replacing it with a better working model. Where I have criticized an organization or a methodology, which is not infrequent, I have offered possible solutions, but in some cases I believe the issue under consideration should be scrapped and not replaced. That includes the socialist left movement that is trying to tear down our current free-market economy and replace it with autocracy—the resurrection of an unrealistic and previously failed attempt at social reform. In that regard I am relentless in destroying that movement in defence of what I and the vast majority believe is a better alternative, although certainly not perfect, that is already in place.

ON A PERSONAL LEVEL

As a non-fiction writer I research and attempt to present the facts in a balanced and unbiased way. I do not insert myself into the dialogue unless it is for a specific purpose, and it is for this reason most of my readers know little about me, other than my name appearing on the front cover.

I want this book to be different because the subject matter stirs in me a great urgency to do what little I am able as just one person. I want to stop the carnage that is being imposed on us by the ‘divide and conquer’ agenda the members of the socialist left movement who, in their capacity as self-appointed Storm Troopers, are invading our lives without any idea of what the eventual outcome will be.

I have purposely written WTF Is Happening To Us? as a collection of papers, each addressing a certain aspect of the plight we now find ourselves facing, but before you read on please understand—I don’t take prisoners. So, if you champion what is popularly referred to as ‘political correctness’ you may well suffer an apoplectic seizure from reading further.

Maybe we can’t stop the tide of humanly induced destruction that is facing us, but we must at least try. To this end I sincerely hope that this very direct and confrontational book will enlighten you about the threat we are currently under, and that it may in some way encourage, nay ‘motivate’ you, into putting our collective shoulders to the wheel in order to preserve what is left of this great experiment that culminated in the creation of life, along with the personal liberty and freedom it rightfully deserves.

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If you like what you read, please take a few minutes to go to my website,

drrobertharrisbooks.com

In addition to reviewing my books in print and as eBooks, I also offer free downloadable papers dealing with a range of subjects, including health, science, exercise, history, an'd current events.

Thank you for joining me. Let’s stay in touch.

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2

ONE MAN’S JOURNEY

Whatever you do, or dream you can, begin it.

Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

German writer and statesman (1749 – 1832)

Most people today live with almost no knowledge of what life was like as recently as 50 years ago. By taking history out of the education curriculum, truth has been replaced with distorted and inaccurate perceptions about the world at that time, claiming it was a misogynistic quagmire of sexism and racism, populated by people who cared nothing about their environment, or for the fate of the generations yet to come.

Nothing could be further from the truth. People back then were extremely responsible, friendly, polite, respectful, honest, and with a love of country that bound us together. There were bad people who did bad things, but the vast majority were good people who did good things for others.

The events that occurred during the formative years of the 20th Century probably had more impact on human life on this planet than at any time in history. It was a time of great innovation and scientific adventurism that gave rise to globalisation. My parents didn’t see a car or a plane until they were in their late teens, but within their lifetimes they witnessed astronauts landing on the moon and returning safely to Earth.

In an effort to dispel the negative perceptions that have permeated the minds of many today, I will give you a glimpse of what life was like as seen through my eyes.

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As a kid living in Australia I experienced from afar the ravages of World War II. Apart from a number of family members heeding the call, and the imposition of rationing on just about every consumer product, especially food, we were spared the worst of it.

Growing up in Australia was fun. As kids we knew the war was going on, and in my case two of my uncles were serving overseas, one in New Guinea, the other in North Africa. Fortunately they both came home, perhaps just a little worse for wear.

For my American audience, the war did not start in 1942 as recorded in your history books. That was when President Roosevelt committed the United States after the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. Great Britain (or the United Kingdom as it is now called), Australia, Canada, and a number of other member states of the British Empire, together with our European and Asian allies, were in it from the onset in 1939.

My dad was a mining engineer, and manager of one of the three big mines in Broken Hill in western New South Wales. He emigrated from England to Australia in 1923, when he was 18 years of age. With the outbreak of war he felt an obligation to enlist to help defend the country of his birth, and all of his family members who were still resident there. He was not allowed to go, despite attempting to enlist in the Army, the Navy, and the Air Force, because his expertise in extracting galena (silver, lead and zinc) from Mother Earth was deemed a more valuable contribution to the war effort than him carrying a rifle.

Despite his good job money was still tight, but my mum was an incredible cook and we always had food on the table, and clothes on our backs. We were certainly better off than many others, some of who were spreading the fat drippings off the Sunday roast on their toast as a substitute for butter.

With the war raging on we had no manufactured toys. Most of the movies we watched were out of Hollywood, so Cowboys and Indians was the group game of choice. We made our own guns from bits of wood, or we clenched a fist and extended our index and second fingers to form the barrel. We shot many people, and were shot many times ourselves in the course of one game, but we all survived in the end.

Almost every boy had a billycart. The girls played with dolls, and one of the most popular was black, but that went by the wayside many years ago, even before political correctness became the new mantra. In her book, The Definitive Guide To Collecting Black Dolls, African-American author Debbie Behan Garrett states:

These dolls were inadequate representations of overtly exaggerated features and outrageously dark complexions, but we cannot deny their existence. They are reminders of past painful experiences endured by those who struggled to survive and grasp at a tolerable life.

A bit heavy don’t you think? We’re talking about dolls, and I was not aware they struggled to grasp at a tolerable life. Overly cuddled, perhaps. This response is more like what one would have heard during the McCarthy years when good old Joseph scared the Hell out of everyone in the United States for ten years (the Second Red Scare) with his assertion there was a communist under every bed.

As I recall the ‘white’ dolls of that era were outrageously pink and overtly cherubic with puffy cheeks and Botox lips, but nobody back then even thought of dolls features being a racial slur against either whites or blacks. I think we were all still colour blind, and didn’t know about racism. What a pity we had to grow up.

We had no shop-bought toys because everything had to go into the war effort. We boys would go to the local garbage tip and search for the ultimate prize—a discarded pram or stroller from which we took the wheels and axles. A couple of bits of timber, a wooden fruit box, a bolt, a few screws and nails, a length of rope for steering, and we were in business. Our billycarts were as precious to us as a new Mercedes.

For pocket money, which I didn’t get from my folks during the war and for another two or three years after the Armistice in 1945, we would drag our billycarts all over the neighbourhood in search of empty beer bottles—the large ones (now called ‘longnecks’), not the smaller ones commonly in use today. They were not plentiful, again because of rationing, but what we found we sold for the equivalent of one half of one penny (a halfpenny). One particular brand of bottle we were paid a penny (roughly one cent) each.

The first seven years of our respective lives is that pivotal period when we form our perceptions, which usually stay with us for the rest of our lives. Even today, much to my lovely Baby Boomer wife’s chagrin, I am reluctant to throw things away just in case I can get a bit more use out of them. Back in the day, everything that could be recycled was put back into service, including beer bottles, and we learned from a very early age to look after our meagre possessions and make them last.

That was all about to change. Along with the post-war manufacturing boom came the disposable era when nothing is repaired. Don’t fix it, throw it away and get another one. Out went washable terry towelling nappies (diapers) and in came the throw-away kind that are now clogging our rubbish dumps.

I recall about 15 years ago I had a battery operated drill for which I paid AU$69.95. It came with two rechargeable alkaline batteries, each of which had come to the end of its operational life. I went back to the hardware store, and yes, they carried replacement batteries, but they were $104.00 each. I purchased a new drill and two batteries for $79.95, and discovered the manufacturers had altered the shape of the batteries, preventing me from retrofitting them to my old drill, which I would have done and I would have two operational drills. I held the old drill in my hand, and so deeply ingrained was my childhood programing I could not believe I was going to dispose of a perfectly good tool, which had been made redundant by corporate greed. It wasn’t the money, it was the principle—something we don’t seem to have a lot of these days.

Broken Hill, where I spent the first eleven years of my life, is on the edge of the Simpson Desert. It is second to the Sahara in terms of land mass, and it too gets very hot in summer. I remember a mate and I toiled all one day collecting beer bottles, and we earned three shillings and six pence between us, our best day ever. That’s the equivalent of 35 cents, and we were on top of the world, but in all fairness, it went a lot further back then than it does today.

By the time I was ten years old I was allowed to go to the Saturday afternoon movies, or ‘the flicks’ as we kids called them, a slang term handed down to us probably because early movies flickered on the screen. What a treat that was. Two movies, a serial with a new episode each week, and a cartoon —all for two pennies; or in the parlance of the day, tuppence. I was given sixpence, which left me enough for a penny drink and a penny candy bar at interval, and tuppence worth of hot chips (thick cut French Fries) wrapped in newspaper to eat on the way home. We got more than you get from McDonalds today, and they were hand-cut and cooked fresh on demand.

Back in the day bread didn’t have all the chemicals in it to keep it moist and stop green mould from growing on it. It was great bread, home delivered while it was still warm by the ‘baker’ who drove a horse drawn chariot-style cart. My sister and I used to fight to see who got the ‘baker’s kiss’, the first slice where the double loaf was broken in half. A slathering of melting butter and the winner was in heaven. Bread tasted fantastic back then, as did so many foods that had not yet been tampered with, especially not genetically.

The bread was good for sandwiches the next day, and toast the following morning. After that it was too stale to eat. Because there were no bread deliveries on a Saturday, while attending school I was allowed to buy my lunch from the privately owned tuckshop across the road (no school canteens or cafeterias back then) every Monday. I was given sixpence—a hot meat pie (for which Australia is justifiably famous) with tomato sauce (ketchup) for four pence, and a huge cream bun filled with raspberry jam and real whipped cream, and sprinkled with castor sugar, for tuppence. It was really the only day I looked forward to going to school.

Up until the end of the war my parents did not have a refrigerator, but we did have an ice chest. The iceman would commeth a couple of times a week, and we also had a meat safe that cooled by water evaporation. Another treasured accoutrement was a hemp water bag hanging out of the sun that also cooled by evaporation. If you haven’t drunk from a water bag on a hot day, you ain’t lived yet.

My parents eventually purchased a refrigerator. The brand was ‘Silent Knight’—what a joke. It had a leather belt connecting the motor to the compressor, and you could hear it slapping all over the house, and it used to grunt when it kicked in, and sigh when it came to the end of the cooling cycle.

The telephone we had when I was a kid was connected directly to the telephone exchange. We would wind a handle and an operator would take the number you wanted and manually plug you in. We had to be a bit careful what we said because lines got crossed all the time and you would have some uninvited person listening in. Then came the luxury, by virtue of a miracle of modern technology, of a telephone equipped with a rotating disc to dial the number. If we were out and about and wanted to make a call we had to go in search of a public phone booth, some few of which have survived to this day.

There was no television, and radio reception was often very staticy. I remember as a young teenager lying on the living room carpet with my father each Sunday night with our ears almost pressed against the speaker of our combination record player/radio cabinet, listening to The Goon Show, relayed from England.

Hard done by? Not on your Nelly. Life was exciting, and we made or own fun. I cannot recall ever hearing a kid say he or she (we had two genders back then) was bored—there was too much to occupy our minds, and we walked and ran everywhere. After school, on weekends and during school holidays we were outside, weather permitting, with a quick break for lunch when the sun was overhead and the pangs of hunger in our highly active bodies told us it was time to eat. Back out in the afternoon until the sun began sinking in the west, when it was time to return home and clean up for dinner.

If one of the mum’s (‘mom’s’ in U.S. speak) wanted their son or daughter, they would stand outside and give a holler, or a cooee. We could all identify whose mum it was by their trademark call sign, so there was never any confusion. And we didn’t have to be supervised. Parents back then weren’t paranoid about their kids, but to be fair we didn’t have the problem with predators, and we all made it home safely.

I remember one day my mate and I set off on foot into the desert. We came across a corrugated iron shed under a big old tree, the only one for miles, in which lived an old guy who was as close to being a hermit as I have ever met. He made us a cup of black tea in a billy over an open fire, and we shared our sandwiches with him. I think he was pleased to have company, albeit two kids who were not yet teenagers.

We were never lost but we were a bit late in getting back. After about an hour walking, in the distance we could see a group of adults, which we were to soon learn included both our parents who were apparently about to mount a search and rescue operation. I will never forget the look on my father’s face. I expected to get my butt royally kicked, but he was so pleased to see me alive he was quite overcome. Thanks Dad!

There was no fast food, and we sat down as a family at meal times. As a matter fact we would be rebuked with ‘don’t gulp your food,’ if we ate too quickly; ‘get your elbows off the table’; ‘close your mouth while you are eating’, and ‘don’t talk with your mouth half full’. There was no such thing as grabbing a slice of toast and running out the door at breakfast time as we sometimes saw American kids do on the flicks, and as a lot of kids everywhere do today. We ate everything on our plates, and were thankful for it. Oh, and here’s another one Gen Y kids will not believe. We had to ask permission from our parents before we could leave the table.

I attended North Broken Hill Primary (Elementary) School. It was a big school and there were lots of kids, and just one student was overweight. We, the not so politically correct, used to call it ‘fat’. Look at what’s happening now! It certainly is a truism that people dig their graves with their knives and forks—but hang on, they don’t use knives and forks to eat pizza, hamburgers, buckets of fried chicken, or mountains of French Fries that constitute four of the five basic food groups according to many people today. The fifth food group is Coke. The next time you are chugalugging a bottle of Coke, ask yourself, would I inject this into an artery? No? Well that’s where it’s going, right into your bloodstream, every damn drop of it.

In 1947, my father was appointed as an Inspector of Mines with the state government. In 1949 the family moved to Wagga Wagga (an aboriginal name for ‘a place of many crows’) situated in the midst of one of the best farming areas in Australia. The barren desert was replaced with green grass and trees that seemed to never end. This opened the door to fishing in the river and lagoons, going rabbiting and catching yabbies (crayfish). Many a meal was enjoyed from these local delicacies that were previously denied us.

Then came the fifties. It was as if someone turned on the lights after the darkness of the war years. Prior to that period of reawakening most men had just one suit, often twenty years old, or more, which they wore to weddings and funerals. Many women made their own dresses, more of a covering than a fashion statement, and they didn’t have a wardrobe full of choices, either. Suddenly the shops were filled with clothing, not the old styled stuff—new fashions the world had not previously seen.

How we dressed became the order of the day. Stovepipe pants and crepe soled shoes for the guys, and multilayers of petticoats under skirts that ended above the knees, and with flat shoes (flatties) for the gals. We guys grew our hair slightly longer to form a ducks-tail, while some had flattops. Most of the gals had ponytails. We were called Bodgies and Widgies, and we thought we were so ‘cool, man’. Yep, they were our words when we were ‘hep’—you younger guys didn’t invent them. If you want to understand how we dressed back then, get a copy of the 1978 movie Grease (referring to the oil we guys put on our hair to make it stay in place). It was set in the 1950s when I was a teenager, and stars John Travolta and Olivia Newton John.

Around 1954, the whole music scene was tipped on its head. Out went Bing Crosby, Mario Lanza and Al Jolson, and the big bands like Tommy Dorsey, Duke Ellington, and Glen Miller. In came a swathe of young artists who played and sang something called Rock ‘n’ Roll. Bill Haley and the Comets, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, followed by groups such as The Platters, The Deltones, The Everley Brothers, and the crooners, Peggy Lee, Ella Fitzgerald, Dinah Washington (my all-time female favourite), Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Ray Orbison, and of course the king, Elvis Presley.

There were so many talented young people back then it would take a whole chapter to list them. Despite differences in their singing styles, we could actually hear and understand the words. That dreadful ear-splitting Hard Rock, and the current falsetto screaming that is now being passed off as singing, did not come until much later. Thankfully.

I really took to dancing. You know, the Waltz, the Quickstep, the Foxtrot, the Gypsy Three Step and the Progressive Barn Dance, to which we added Jitterbug (Jive, man). Then along came The Twist (made famous by African-American singer, Chubby Checker), The Swim, and a number of other variations, all of which required more skill than just bobbing up and down on the spot. And we actually held on to each other. That was the best part.

Having bid farewell to High School, I went dancing every Saturday night. Back then, if any of us young red-blooded males were lucky enough ‘to win a heart’, we would each walk our respective new date home, and here’s the kicker. If we got a kiss goodnight we thought we had ‘scored’—and if we got two kisses, we were ‘studs’. Not much teenage pregnancy back then, just a lot of horny teenagers who couldn’t wait to get married to feast on the forbidden fruit.

Talking of walking everywhere—the town in which I lived had a very active Ball season during the winter. Perhaps eight or more every year, with names like The Black and White Ball (referring to required formal dress for both sexes, not mixed couple ethnicity), and The Bachelor and Spinster’s Ball. No doubt both of those names would now be on the politically incorrect list and marked for extinction, but the Black and White Committee have kept it alive, along with other fund-raising endeavours in support of selected charities.

The hall in which the balls were held was just two blocks from my parents’ home, where I too lived. My favourite dancing companion at the time lived two miles away (we were still using the Imperial System of measurement back then). I would walk two miles, orchid corsage in hand to collect my date, and we would walk two miles back to the hall. Three or four hours of almost non-stop dancing was followed by a two mile trek back to her house, and another two mile leg for me to get home, fortified with a couple of kisses [official recognition of my studiness]. Tired? No, not really. We always had a great night, and walking was what we did, no questions asked. That’s something you don’t often see these days—a young guy in a tux with his date in an evening gown wearing sneakers with shoes in a plastic bag, on his arm, walking to a dance

Yes, they did have cabs back then, but no, I never used one because I didn’t have the money to spend—certainly not after having purchased a corsage for my date—always an orchid which I recall cost about seven shillings and six pence (75 cents). It was all about priorities. Oh, and there was no Dole or government subsidies back then, either. We were all expected to work, and we all expected to work. There was something special about being independent and making our own way. We used to call it pride, a feeling of personal fulfilment that so many people in our brave new world seem to be actively avoiding.

This was at a time when compulsory National Service in the military was in vogue, but only for males. By the way, there were no complaints from females about gender inequality—this was ‘guy’ work. ‘Nashos’ served two good purposes. Firstly, we learned what to do to defend our country against aggression; and secondly, the guys who marched out were a different lot to the ragtag bunch that got off the bus on day one.

I had been a member of the Wagga Wagga High School Army Cadet Unit for a number of years and attended Officer Training School, so I had already experienced military life, to a degree. I was inducted into the Royal Australian Navy on July 9, 1956, just seven days after my eighteenth birthday. Three months into my service I was shipped off to perform active service during the Malayan Emergency. We did a lot of growing up in just a very short space of time.

When I was discharged from the military I decided to join the police. I was going to join in my home state of New South Wales, but over the Easter weekend in 1957 I went for my first visit to Melbourne, the capital city of the State of Victoria. The New South Wales police uniforms were drab, with jackets that hung straight down from the shoulders, augmented by a black plastic cap with a chrome number on the front. Train conductors had better uniforms.

Well, the Victoria police uniforms were tailored and belted at the waist, and their caps were cloth with a big shiny badge on the front. I was hooked. So clothing conscious was I that I immediately applied to join. Fickle, you say? Probably, but I almost strutted when I was later ‘walking the beat’, something cops seldom do these days. Not the strutting part—I’m referring to the bit about walking the beat. Oh, and we were put on a charge if we were seen with our hands in our pockets while in uniform! Eating and drinking while in uniform and in public were hanging offences, and smoking involved burning at the stake. How primitive we were back then, or should that word be disciplined?

I subsequently served with two more Australian police services, the Royal Papua and New Guinea Constabulary, and the Australian Capital Territory (now Federal) Police. We took pride in serving our country, as I do today when I march with my medals (military and police) on my chest on Anzac Day (our 4th of July) to honour those who suffered the ultimate sacrifice.

IN CONCLUSION

I have much to be thankful for, as do so many others of my vintage, and even those who are a decade or two younger. Apart from living through the effects of World War II and other unnecessary and embarrassing wars in Asia that followed, one of which I was part, we experienced life in a world that was in many ways relatively innocent, drugless, safe, honest, and uncomplicated. One in which we respected other people and their property, and their right to have an opinion, and shock-horror, being allowed to voice it! It was a time when a person’s word was their bond and a handshake was more binding than a written contract. Oh, and we used to turn up on time for appointments, or call ahead if we were going to be late or couldn’t make it—and we didn’t have cell or mobile phones.

I can recall only one oft-times repeated incident that I didn’t care for as a kid. When my folks had family or friends over, at the appropriate time my mum would tell me to go wash up before dinner. I would galvanize myself as I re-entered the room, waiting for the inevitable to happen. More often than not an uncle or family male friend would ask, ‘Did you wash behind your ears?’ I hadn’t because they weren’t dirty, but I played the game and would answer, ‘Yes.’ Said adult male would then say, ‘Come over here’, then proceed to grab me by an ear, pull my head forward and proclaim, ‘You could grow potatoes there’, and burst into laughter. I would stand dutifully on the spot waiting for the mirthful moment to pass, thinking, ‘Gees, try to be a little bit original, please.’ The only variation was ‘potatoes’ were sometimes substituted with ‘spuds’. Other than having spuds growing behind my ears, life was pretty good.

No, I don’t live in the past. I live in the here and now, with an eye to the future, but the unexpected downside to experiencing those great times is that we, the wrinklies who are now considered to be over the hill and on the list of disposable relics, have something to compare with life today.

I love life with all of its dents and scratches, and it saddens me deeply to witness what appears to be a world-wide erosion of all that we, as young people, held dear. It won’t affect us oldies for too many more years, but many of us, individually and collectively, share a real concern for the future of our children, our grandchildren, and those yet to come.

It pains me deeply to come to the realisation that we as a race are refusing to learn from our past mistakes and of those who came before us. We are allowing the very matrix of our society to be eroded by those who have an agenda which, if left unchecked, will eventually prove to be the muffled drumbeat that mourns the destruction of a proven, though not perfect, co-existence of as yet a not fully evolved species that is struggling to survive in an ever-changing environment.

My religious and esoteric beliefs aside, I believe life to be the greatest of all miracles. To have been given the opportunity to become part of this grand experiment defies human description. To have been endowed with the senses to see, feel, smell, taste, touch, love, laugh and cry in order to appreciate all that is wondrous, defies adequate narrative.

We too easily take life for granted, a fact we appreciate more as the years pass by. When we were young we saw the future as being a forever thing, but as we progressed through life we began looking in the rear view mirror and became cognizant of the fact that life for us is just a blink of an eye. Sadly, there are those among us who have the audacity to presume they can dictate how we should live these brief years, how to think, and how to raise our children. A pox on them!

I have been a fighter all of my life, both physically and emotionally, and have spent the majority of my earthly tenure in service to my country and its people. I am not about to stop now as we face an enemy that is, in my opinion, as bad and potentially destructive as any I have ever encountered. Please heed my plea for help and become active in opposing the wave of oppression that is now firmly implanted in our lives.

Just one more comment if I may. Proof reading this manuscript I find myself in the midst of the Covid-19 coronavirus epidemic. Almost daily there are online posts warning of scammers who are attempting to con people out of money under the guise of being legitimate fund-raising enterprises. Even the legitimate ones are a bit sus (suspect) it seems, including the Red Cross. If people donate money for a particular cause, every penny should go to that cause, less reasonable operating expenses—not to another cause of that enterprise’s choosing.

It seems like every time we have a crisis these creatures crawl out from under rocks, their targets often being the aged, the infirmed and the gullible. These bottom feeders are the scum of the earth and deserve fates far more painful than prosecution for fraud, in the unlikely event they are arrested. Having grown up during the war (the biggy), and the two decades of post-war rebuilding of lives, we looked out for each other, offering a helping hand when and where we could. Incomprehensively, that noble attitude has to a demonstrable degree gone missing, proving we are better people when we are under pressure or hardship.

I wish you and your loved ones long and healthy earthly tenure, free of the tyranny we are now experiencing at the hands of those who, in the absence of rational thought or debate, have adopted an idiosyncratic form of logic which they collectively grasp and repeat, ad nauseam, like a mantra. To them I recommend you try this instead—get a life!

It’s time for the concerned among us to join forces and give these social marauders the one-finger salute. As born-again socialists, what they are doing to the tenets of what Karl Marx offered as a non-violent solution to social injustice must have him rolling over in his grave.

****

3

ARE WE MOVING TO THE LEFT?

The problem with socialism is that you eventually run out of other people’s money.

Baroness Margaret Thatcher

Former Prime Minister of the United Kingdom

Ibecame

very interested in Russian history when I was in my early twenties. I purchased a copy of The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx, a paperback and not a large one at that. I had it on my bookshelf and when a visiting friend spotted it, he asked…‘Are you a Communist.’ ‘No,’ I replied…‘why do you ask?’ He pointed to the book and I said…‘If I’m going to make a value judgement as to the merits or otherwise of communism, I need to consider both sides, not just take as gospel the stilted arguments of its detractors.’

This has always been my mantra for gaining an understanding of any subject. We should all take the time to look at all of the evidence, think about it, and then make a decision—don’t just take for granted the prevailing view as presented by our unreliable and distorted media. Too many journalists are under- or ill-informed, while others have agendas of their own and use the media to promote their sometimes distorted views.

Born in Trier, Germany, on May 5, 1818, Karl Marx was a philosopher, economist, historian, sociologist, political theorist and journalist. His place in history was secured by his activity as a socialist revolutionary.

Well, just what is the difference between socialism and communism? They are both based on economic and political protocols that seek to promote equality among the people while eliminating social class differences. The difference came when Vladimir Lenin, whose real name was Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, the political revolutionary who later served as head of government in Russia from 1922 to 1924, changed some of Marx’s ideas to suit his own political platform, and communism was born.

Put another way, socialism is the dream while communism represents the failed attempt to make the dream a reality. As the names suggest, socialism refers to the entire societal structure, while communism suggests communal participation. Same thing, really.

We are now facing the attempted imposition of ridiculous left-wing propaganda that is currently being dumped on us by pseudo-intellectuals and their legion of ill-informed followers, all of whom either have no knowledge of history, or want to ignore it because it exposes the fragility of their twisted dogma. What has evolved is a form of fanaticism. They are supporting a resurgence of the already proven failure of the socialist ideal—choosing it simply because they don’t believe capitalism is working.

Again bowing to the genius of Winston Churchill, wartime Prime Minister of Great Britain who said…‘A fanatic is one who can’t change his mind and won’t change the subject.’

They broke the mold after they made Winnie. More the pity. No, capitalism is not working all that well, but history has shown us that it is certainly better than the socialist alternative.

This is not a perfect world, but it could be a whole lot better if we all shared equal responsibility for making it so. We all like to decry our politicians, yet who is to blame? We voted them in, which supports the adage that we get the politicians we deserve. Western civilization has deteriorated to such a degree that we want our politicians to do our thinking for us, and hand everything to us on a platter, then complain when it does not fit our selfish ideals. This short-sighted, egocentric lazy arrogance on our part is what our politicians thrive on, and why capitalism is not working as well as it could. Can you even begin to imagine what it would be like under socialism with the last vestiges of the checks and balances we still have at our disposal, removed?

Let’s take a look at this purportedly wonderful system our leftist friends [maybe yours, not mine] are attempting to thrust upon us. Karl Marx, the original proponent of socialism, lived at a time in Europe when a small minority of industrialists controlled the manufacturing capability and the economy to the exclusion of the working class. Workers were over-worked and poorly paid. Many lived in abysmal conditions and were generally prevented from rising above their station. There was indeed urgent need for change.

Marx collaborated with Friedrich Engels who, like Marx, was a German philosopher and social activist—the only difference being Engels’ father owned a large textile factory in Salford, England. They collaborated in writing The Communist Manifesto, the content of which was adopted by the Bolsheviks in Russia and put into effect after they had overthrown the Emperor of Russia, Tsar Nicholas II, along with the bourgeoisie who had a stranglehold over the country’s wealth. It is a compelling document with an idealistic theme that does not take into account that the bourgeoisie were not the only ones who could be corrupted by money and power.

I have heard it said…‘I wonder what Jesus would think if he returned to Earth and witnessed what has become of the Christian faith?’ I think the same could be said of Karl Marx. What exactly would be his reaction to what has been done to his manifesto that was written from the heart in order to protect the people? I am sure greed and division, murder, mayhem and distortion of young minds were not on his agenda.

THE GLOBALIZATION OF SOCIALISM IS IN PLAY

The initial impact of socialism a century ago was largely confined to Russia, but had open acceptance by some trade union movements, particularly in the United Kingdom. The term comrade (or tovarishch in Russian, which means colleague or partner, in this case in the political sense) gained widespread use in the United Kingdom among trade unionists.

The celebrations held on May 1 each year originated in Europe many years ago. It was the Spring Festival of the Northern Hemisphere that was celebrated with singing and folk dancing, not unlike Thanksgiving in the United States that is held in November to traditionally celebrate a successful harvest. It was adopted by the socialists/communists in Russia as ‘May Day’, a day of celebration of workers, and soon spread to almost every western country in the world. In Australia it is now called ‘Labor Day’.

Communist Russia’s agenda was not just about freeing workers from the yolk of oppression. It became a strong military power, and during World War II played a role supporting the Allied Forces in Europe against their arch enemy in common, Germany. United States General George Patton considered Russia to be the greatest threat to future world peace, and was vilified when he urged the allies to attack Russia after Germany had surrendered. It appears the General with the pearl-handled pistols and an ego the size of Alaska, was right.

Russia began a program of forcefully annexing smaller countries in its near vicinity. This resulted in the birth of the Union of Socialist Soviet Republics (USSR), in which 14 neighbouring states were occupied against their will. While this was in play the rest of the world, tired of war, sat back and watched while Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Estonia, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Latvia, Lithuania, Moldova, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Ukraine, and Uzbekistan fell before the might of the Hammer and Sickle.

This marked the commencement of the Cold War with the West, and the nuclear arms race. The Berlin Wall was built to divide Russian held East Berlin from Allied occupied West Berlin. Russia then began its expansionist agenda with forays into North Korea, North Vietnam and Afghanistan, each resulting in unnecessary and protracted wars, with no net gain to the antagonist.

Following the failure of the great socialist experiment, the majority of the countries forced to become part of the USSR were able to return to being independent states, but moves by Russia to establish a nonmilitary alliance with the former soviet states soon became apparent.

Plans for the reunification of the Eurasian states with a different mandate led to the formation of the Commonwealth of Independent States on December 8, 1991, and ultimately to the establishment of the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU) on May 29, 2014, when the founding member states, Belarus, Kazakhstan and Russia jointly signed the treaty. The EAEU officially came into force on January 1, 2015, and the alliance has more recently been joined by two other former Soviets, Armenia and Kyrgyzstan.

Emulating the European Economic Union (EEU), the EAEU has introduced many of the benefits enjoyed by member states within the EEU that include the free movement of goods, capital, services and people. It has adopted similar common policies in the macroeconomic sphere to include transport, industry and agriculture, energy, foreign trade and investment, customs, technical regulation, competition and antitrust regulation. Provisions for a single currency similar to the Euro, and plans for greater integration are envisioned for the future.

Ironically, Russia and its former Soviets, now trading partners, have reverted to the capitalist model while retaining remnants of the communist agenda of control over the masses. Why? Because socialism/communism failed—miserably!

Again I call up another of Winnies appropriate quotes…‘Socialism is a philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance, and the gospel of envy, its inherent virtue is the sharing of misery.’

The other and perhaps more sinister ambition of the EAEU is to create a military alliance in order to combat, or confront, the might of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) which has 29 mainly European member countries, together with the United States. Officially formed on April 4, 1949, NATO’s role was mutual protection from foreign invasion, which ironically included the growing threat posed by Russia during its glory days.

If Russia’s role in the downing of Malaysia Airlines Flight 17 (MH17) over Ukraine in July 2014 (which the Kremlin denies) and its foray into Syria, ostensibly in support of the Bashar Al-Assad regime, can be taken as indicators, a more powerful military alliance with Russia at the helm may herald a fresh round of future aggression.

I watched the Berlin Wall go up, and come down, and was privy to the effects the Cold War had on the world. I also watched with interest as the tenets of socialism were eroded by greed from those within the system who lined their pockets with Rubles, drove big cars, and had Dachas on the Black Sea. All of this while many of the people they were feigning to represent could not get enough to eat, or were being sent to Gulags (an acronym for the Soviet bureaucratic institution, Glavnoe Upravlenie ispravitel’no-trudovykh LAGerei), where many died of starvation and gross mistreatment.

The great experiment of equality for all proved to be worse than any capitalist state, before or since. A noble sentiment with equality as its cornerstone, socialism will never likely work because it takes away incentive, and the promise of reward for effort.

THE NEW SOCIALIST MOVEMENT

There is a sinister movement in play in most advanced Western economies, but is it really new? They operate under the guise of righting the wrongs of this world by, they claim, holding governments to account for their perceived lack of action in areas of concern for many of their supporters. Unfortunately their agenda is disruption with little to offer other than vague references to a better life to be had.

It made its public debut in the United States in 1998, when an advocacy group and a political action committee founded MoveOn in response to the impeachment of President Bill Clinton by the U.S House of Representatives. The organization has raised millions of dollars to support progressive (a euphemism for Socialist Democrat) candidates for election.

The concept began to spread and Canada joined in 2010 with the establishment of Leadnow. According to its charter, Leadnow is a non-profit, multi-partisan citizen’s advocacy organization that campaigns for changes to environmental policy; worker’s rights; education, and proportional representation.

The United Kingdom came on board with the creation of 38 Degrees, another self-professed not-for-profit organization that describes its activities as progressive; campaigning for fairness; defending rights; preserving peace; saving the planet, and working towards deeper democracy in the U.K.

The Irish version is Uplift, which is self-described as a community of people taking coordinated action to promote social justice; to defend fairness; protect our rights; preserve the planet and to deepen democracy. Using digital tools and a variety of campaigning strategies, its members participate and take action to advance Uplift campaigns for progressive change in Ireland. The organizers claim Uplift is completely independent and not aligned to any political or corporate interests.

Aufstehen (German meaning Get Up, or Stand Up) is the newly formed socialist activist group representing Deutschland. It is the brainchild of Sahra Wagenknecht, a former leading member of the far-left Die Linke Party, and her husband, Oskar Lafontaine, a former German finance minister and co-founder of Die Linke.

GetUp! is an Australian political activist group launched in August 2005 to encourage internet activism in Australia. The organizers claim it has increasingly engaged in offline community organizing, based on values, not party politics. However, it appears the failed socialist ideals practiced in Russia before its fall from grace are still alive and well.

Skiftet (meaning: Shift) is located in Sweden. The organization claims they are committed citizens who want a shift in society to where they stand for the environment; justice, and each other’s rights. [Please note how carefully these proclamations are worded…want a shift in society…but nary a word in which direction. Perhaps the words…to the far left…should be included].

ActionStation, New Zealand’s representative body in the global alliance, claims their mission supports:

•Equality together with fairness recognises different starting points and pathways to enjoying the same rights and freedoms.

•Custodianship: care and responsibility for that which you treasure, especially nature.

•Love, empathy and compassion for all without discrimination.

•Togetherness with the purpose of mutual care, support and creative enhancement.

•Hospitality, kindness, respect, generosity and care for others without expecting anything in return.

All very noble aspirations on the surface, but like icebergs we should examine the over 90% of each of these structures that is hidden from plain sight.

Firstly, only one representative body from each country is accepted into the alliance, obviously to prevent conflict of interest between different schools of socialistic thought that would signal disunity of ideals.

Secondly, while each activist group claims to have no direct political alliance, the groups collectively only support those political parties that have an agenda that is left of centre, which often appears not far enough left for their liking.

And thirdly, while each of these action groups makes the claim of supporting democracy, nothing could be