A story so old no-one knows who wrote it
Once upon a time there was a good old man who lived up on a mountain, far away in Japan. All round his little house the mountain was flat, and the ground was rich; and there were the rice fields of all the people who lived in the village at the mountain’s foot. Mornings and evenings, the old man and his little grandson, who lived with him, used to look far down on the people at work in the village, and watch the blue sea which lay all round the land, so close that there was no room for fields below, only for houses. The little boy loved the rice fields dearly, for he knew that all the good food for all the people came from them; and he often helped his grand father to watch over them.
One day, the grandfather was standing alone in front of his house, looking far down at the people, and far out to sea, when suddenly, he saw something very strange where the sea and sky meet. Something like a great cloud was rising there, as if the sea were lifting itself high into the sky. The old man put his hands to his eyes and looked again, hard as his old sight could. Then he turned and ran to the house. “Yone, Yone!” he cried, “bring a brand from the hearth!”
The little grandson could not imagine what his grandfather wanted with fire, but he always obeyed, so he ran quickly and brought the brand. The old man already had one, and was running for the rice fields. Yone ran after him. But what was his horror to see his grandfather thrust his burning brand into the ripe dry rice, where it stood.
“Oh, Grandfather, Grandfather!” screamed the little boy, “what are you doing?”
“Quick, set fire! Thrust your brand in!” said the grandfather.
Yone thought his dear grandfather had lost his mind, and he began to sob; but a little Japanese boy always obeys, so though he sobbed, he thrust his torch in, and the sharp flame ran up the dry stalks, red and yellow. In an instant, the field was ablaze, and thick black smoke began to pour up the mountain side. It rose like a cloud, black and fierce, and in no time the people below saw that their precious rice fields were on fire. Ah, how they ran! Men, women, and children climbed the mountain, running as fast as they could to save the rice; not one soul stayed behind.
And when they came to the mountain top, and saw the beautiful rice-crop all in flames, beyond help, they cried bitterly, “Who has done this thing? How did it happen?”
“I lit fire,” said the old man, very solemnly; and the little grandson sobbed, “Grandfather did it.”
But when they gathered round the old man, angrily shouting, “Why? Why?” he only turned and pointed out to sea and said, “Look!”
They all turned and looked. And there, where the blue sea had lain so calm, a mighty wall of water, reaching from earth to sky, was rolling in. No one could scream, so terrible was the sight. The wall of water rolled in on the land, passed quite over the place where the village had been, and broke with an awful sound, on the mountain side. Then another wave came, and another; and then all was water, as far as they could see. Below, the village was under the sea.
But the people were all safe. And when they saw what the old man had done, they honoured him above all others for the quick wit which had saved them all from the tidal wave.
In the same vein, Australian writer Anna Funder, (who wrote the best-seller ‘Stasi’ about the secretive and repressive East German Stalinist post-war republic, The G. D. R.) has written a book about the pre-war German Weimar Republic and its overthrow by the Nazis. The now notorious Mr Hitler began his reign of terror by rounding up all the communists and leftists he could find, and shooting them. This was unprecedented in the gentile ambiance of West-European politics at the time. (Hitler himself was given a mere year in gaol for an attempted coup-de-tat. A year he spent productively writing Mein Kampf)
Many of those that managed to escape with their skin, found sanctuary in Britain. Their presence was tolerated in England on condition they did not discuss the politics of their country of origin. The English did not want those pesky Europeans bringing their incestuous, internecine squabbles to the quaint little island enclave. (you may notice, they have retained this attitude right up to the present day) The British establishment would soon come to rue this policy of enforced silence as it became apparent that the incestuous, internecine squabbling of the continentals would soon reach their shores, then go on to engulf the entire gentile ambiance of western civilization as we know it.
As you can imagine, the refugees from Nazi Germany were desperate to warn the world of the magnitude of the evil sweeping their country. But if they did, they would be sent right back where they came from to face certain death, so naturally they kept mum.
So here we are in 2022, facing an existential crisis arguably even more serious than fascism.
The scientists of the world, in their collective wisdom, have no doubt what-so-ever that the Paris Climate Agreement, solemnly signed by 193 Parties (192 countries plus the European Union) on the 4th of November 2016, is woefully inadequate. It has zero chance of preventing run-away climate change even if we manage to stick to our promises, and we all know that is extremely unlikely, don’t we? The scientists are trying to warn us that Zero Net Emissions by 2050 will not cut-the-mustard. It is essentially a Mass Suicide Pact! Now it is the job of the school strikers, the protesters and activists to warn the people of the world that we are heading for rack and ruin if we don’t do more, much, much more. More in fact than a Free-Market-Neo-Liberal-Palliative-Stage-Capitalist world is capable of doing, even if we wanted to. We need a reset.
So people are rebelling all over the world, in almost every country on earth, but no-one is listening. Quite the opposite! The-powers-that-be are falling over themselves to introduce draconian new anti-protest laws that we have not seen the likes of for generations, just to stop the truth getting out.
Ben Boyang 16/7/22
Further Reading, ‘It’s Your Funeral Baby’