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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’s 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, which want him to be assailed by the old elites. The satire of SNL and others is a noise in an echo chamber. May is serenely out of reach. Corbyn and co have rendered opposition toothless.
The right wing – which is now openly racist and bigoted – has the upper hand for now.
I will be leaving Asia for Germany soon. And I look forward to being a temporary resident of a nation whose conservative government has stood up for refugees and drawn a line in the sand against the United States.

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