One thing appears dead certain as a result of the horrific, cold-blooded killing of Jo Cox, British M.P. for the constituency of Batley and Spen: the campaign to leave the clutches of the European Union, and therefore symbolically of Europe itself, has not only been *sabotaged, but perhaps irretrievably lost beyond repair. Interestingly, my 'ole (1988) Concise Chambers Dictionary defines
'sabotage' as a/the 'malicious destruction: action taken to prevent the
achievement of any aim.' So 'successful' - in terms of its efficacy
- it might well prove to (have) be(en). Only 'successful' in completely the opposite way of what the assassin - supposedly - intended. Successful, yes indeed, yes
sirree.
And, what's all the worse, Brexit might well have been sunken without a trace, beyond hope of recall by a fellow who would've, indeed at his pre-trial or preliminary court appearance, unmistakably did, fly his colours to just such a political mast. Believing that the means one chooses to use somehow as if magically has the ability to justify whatever noble ends one claims to pursue is a hoary old belief well and truly threadbare and decaying under the weight of the ages, with the wrecks of human history attesting it everywhere on all sides. Thus, in one highly efficacious brutal gesture a man marginally older than myself, a 52-year-old British National Socialist (i.e. neo-Nazi) not only put paid to the earthly life of a passionate and idealistic champion of the underdog both in Britain and overseas, a mother of two beloved kids and loving, devoted husband, and a selfless parliamentary advocate of the downtrodden and needy, he thus effectively put paid to what up to that point was rapidly turning into a potential rout, a possible landslide even, for the exit campaign. A tragedy indeed on many fronts.
Although her assassination appears likely to skew the result of the Brexit referendum in the United Kingdom beginning within hours, and that is a result which I see as not merely a missed opportunity - of a lifetime - for the Brits, the Welsh, the Scots and the Northern Irish, but actually as an unmitigated tragedy of unseen but nevertheless well-portended proportions, one ever needs to keep everything in perspective. As British comedian extraordinaire John Cleese, aka Basil Fawlty - and I agreeably note a Brexiter as well - and his colleagues in that classic film 'The Life of Brian' so memorably intone (at its conclusion), one must ever, "al-ways look on the bri-ght si-de of life, (ditto, ditto, ditto)". Or as our, i.e. Aotearoa-New Zealand's own (Aussie export) John Clarke, aka Fred Dagg, himself put it a few odd decades ago, despite all that seems to go wrong at times (both in our personal lives and in the world at large): "We [really] don't how [just] how lucky we are." Though such a sentiment expressed towards Mr Cox and family would be a cruel, callous comment if ever there were one, and this writer obviously doesn't remotely intend that.
And thus I here devote a few, the following words to simply pay a brief tribute to someone I see, in many respects, as a kindred spirit, if not in terms of all her political i's and t's squaring with my own, but as someone whose essential philosophy of life embodied principles our world sorely needs and can ill-afford to lose. Sadly, if only in her person, it has. Since I'd already intended posting this by now, and yesterday evening planned doing so by this afternoon at the latest, I was amazed upon hearing overnight that today would've been her 42nd birthday. And so I'll quickly 'pen' my words and move on, elsewhere, to some other Brexit-related thoughts she might well have struggled with perhaps, philosophically I'd prefer to think while hopefully respecting the spirit behind them. (While I most definitely don't intend Mrs Cox in the following thoughts, nevertheless in general one can only hope that those who ever so stridently maintain their 'tolerant' posture towards every-one and all things under the sun themselves are willing to show that selfsame tolerance and understanding when dealing with those who don't happen to see all things eye to eye with them. That, indeed, is the true test of such people's 'tolerance', of whether it's the real, genuine article or merely yet another bit of political jargon, an emotive smokescreen looking to deflect attention from an unpleasant, unanswerable argument they'd simply prefer not to have to deal, contend or grapple with.)
The one and only matter I feel - remotely - 'competent' to comment upon in regards to Jo Cox, the person, and passionate advocate for the world's downtrodden, is this: like Yours Truly - and for those who assume I'm simply belatedly jumping onto the bandwagon, trying to look good and prescient in retrospect by vicariously nailing my colours to the mast of a cause which has finally achieved public acceptance - simply check my early blogposts on the matter, especially upon http://davidedwinisms.blogspot.co.nz/ (or .com/) back in 2012 and 2013; plus email correspondence I then had with New Zealand Green M.P. Kennedy Graham. Sadly ye public has still to rally to the cause, and somehow I doubt it's about to anytime soon. Like myself Ms Cox early on advocated for the plight of Syrians as Syrian refugees started flooding out of Syria, and indeed was apparently likewise extremely critical of the likes of the US of A and others who were effectively leaving them, like lambs to/for the slaughter, to the fate of Bashar al-Assad and his ruthless regime; just as President George Bush Senior shamefully and shamelessly left the Kurds in northern Iraq to the dastardly fate their erstwhile bloody dictator Saddam Hussein shortly thereafter had in store for them.
Some things do indeed change remarkably little down through recent years. Incidentally, if one wanted yet another perfect example of the utter impotence of the United Nations in our present-day world, alongside that great humanitarian and Nobel Peace prize-winner otherwise known as American President Barack Obama, one really need look not one millimetre beyond Syria. So much for 'do nothings' and those who put down inviolable 'red lines' for other nations; they're clearly not worth the tissue, let alone toilet paper, they're scribbled on.
Referring back to my earlier delineation of the actual meaning of sabotage - although defining 'treason' and treachery would provide ample food for thought for another blogpost, surely - let me tie that in with my conclusion, as follows: really, it little matters whether that was his intention, indeed it was arguably the last thing on his mind - short of some elaborate conspiracy secretly masterminded by the Eurocrats and their most die-hard, unyielding sympathizers themselves, which of course ever remains a possibility in most such assassinations but would appear wholly unlikely in this instance - it appears unerringly likely to lead to just such a result. Yet of course we will never know, whether - but for the awful ungraciousness of this one murderous fiend - things might've been different; though I suspect many Eurosceptics including Yours Truly, will ever suspect it did sink the exit campaign, if sink it so transpires it does.
No comments:
Post a Comment