The Malaise

I hesitated naming the current POTUS in the heading. I am sick of the continuous stream of Trump comment: Trumpiana? Sick in the most existential way. Instead of asking ‘what is to be done’, it is tempting to say ‘nothing can be done’… Sick too of the self important impotence of Corbyn’s Labour Party – and the grotesque disregard May and her people have for any decent values left in the political fabric of the United Kingdom. Sick of a British press that is failing to face up to the current government and the insane stampede for the European exit. I am reminded of Sartre’s description of ‘Nausea’ in his novel… …an insinuating, softly horrible metamorphosis of all his sensations. It is Nausea. It grabs you from behind, and then you drift in a tepid sea of time. Is it the world? Walls, gardens, cafes are abruptly overcome by nausea. Another time he wakes up to a baleful day: something is rotten in the air, the light, people‚Äôs gestures. And this ‘sickness’ and the sense that nothing can be done is precisely what these people want. You can’t get at the POTUS head on – this feeds his power base, […]
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