As Afghanistan falls before our eyes, we remember the blood-price from days gone by and wonder: what did we buy with it? Our battles belong to those of us who fought them, but they were ultimately in service to policies; policies created by those who are at best indifferent to our existence, or worse, have placed themselves in a state of war with us. Though it seems inflammatory to write such things even at this late hour, the court eunuchs have implied such things for years and now are increasingly explicit in their fever dreams of eliminating their political opposition. And it is a failure of what leaders we have on ‘our side’ that they have refused to take them at their word.
Already the talking heads have begun likening to the Taliban any here among us who would oppose them and the policies they promote. They must deflect. They must craft the story to fit their objectives. The failure of GloboHomo in the graveyard of empires? Shift fire back to the Proles. How dare the Kulaks dissent. How dare we challenge the authority of the credentialed classes and their masters. How dare we cling to such provincial loyalties as to God or family or country. They could permit such outdated notions so long as they served as leverage for goading us into hurling ourselves at distant strangers, but when it entails cultivating our interests within our own borders, it cannot be borne.
Every day, what has been my home feels more and more like an occupied country. Frustrated abroad and blinded by an almost demonic frenzy of resentment and utopian megalomania, the Leviathan turns with increased zeal upon its host. The mandates become continually more bizarre and shrill, with the stakes only getting higher. American citizens are being spied upon, imprisoned, fired, censored, lied to, manipulated, robbed, and killed, and those in the halls of power either incite it, enable it, or look away.
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