LOST

I wrote this post without previous forethought or planning. It flowed from my 'pen' as if it had control of my tortured mind. It is long, but there is much to say. I don't blame my readers for giving up mid-flow. This post is my way of shedding thoughts on paper that need to be said. It is my personal cathartic release and has to be said for the prime purpose of my mental clarity and sanity.

I am the archetypal Baby Boomer. I was born in 1956, and my father, like many young men of the era, had been a soldier and had actively fought in combat. My father was 'demobbed' in 1953 after suffering severe wounds obtained during the Korean War and spent 6 months in a Japanese hospital. The men of the Silent Generation were the product of the Great Depression and the Second World War, probably the most destructive war in history, in which 80 million people lost their lives. It is difficult for the modern mind to contemplate the impact this war had on the world: the wide-world desolation; the economic cost; the geopolitical consequences; and, finally, the effect on the minds of the folk who went through these times, especially the men and women who were actively part of military action. Again, it is impossible to comprehend how these experiences shaped the way their minds responded, developed and coped. However, as a general rule, they were tough, resilient and self-sufficient. And in Britain, at least, many were poor. Britain had been bankrupted and placed in hock to the new emerging superpower, the United States. Unlike the defeated nations, Germany and Japan, Britain was not subject to the huge largess lavished on the vanquished. How come the enemy thrived, while Britain, which had contended with Germany from the very start, became diminished and pauperised? Food rationing didn't officially end until July 1954- a wartime contingency initiated in 1939. And only after unrest and protests by the population was this measure lifted.

The point is that our parents were a different breed, shaped by their experiences and the hardships they endured. Their children, the Boomers, were raised in a way incomprehensible to the generations that followed. My father was a hard man and set out to raise me in his image. He inculcated into his 4-year-old flaxen-haired son a simple dictum: 'Never suffer anyone laying their hands on you, or verbally threatening you'. In these circumstances, I was commanded to fight without any verbal foreplay. It was a simple rule that my small, developing brain absorbed wholeheartedly. There was no room for nuance or graded response. It was perfect behavioural conditioning that was imprinted on my emerging and evolving neural landscape. The response was binary, a simple on/off switch triggered for violence. There was no thought involved; the reaction was primal and primed to go off. Invariably, as I played in the grimy streets of a small Black Country town as a dirt besmirched, undernourished four-year-old, an urchin would tickle the neural trigger. Those were the halcyon days when a four-year-old could roam the streets unsupervised. I remember one particular occasion where an ike, no different from myself, saw fit to swing on me for no particular reason. We fought in the street until a passing adult intervened and pulled us, urchins, apart. The aftermath: whenever we sighted each other, we would run like demented berserkers (is there any other type?), crashing into each other without a word. Again, we would be parted, but the cycle would continue. Eventually, an older kid in the alley brought us together, we exchanged names, shook hands and never fought again.

My parents wanted me to absorb the values, strengths and qualities that made them get through the worst of times. They wanted me prepared for horrors that never came. It was the midst of the Cold War, and there was always the real risk that the Third World War could erupt with scant warning. The Cuba Affair was a close-run thing, and we came close to Armageddon. Europe had no illusions about their chances. Thousands of Russian tanks were poised in East Germany, Poland and Czechoslovakia, ready to careen west. The Soviet doctrine was simple: overwhelm NATO with huge numbers of men, tanks, artillery, fighter and bomber jets. They called it Deep Battle. They relied on speed and dislocation, and there was also the overarching threat of nuclear weapons, whether tactical or strategic. They planned to reach the Rhine within days. We lived in exciting times.  Could our parents have been preparing and inuring us, either consciously or unconsciously, to the likely hardships and vicissitudes to come? Regardless, we became our parents, well, at least I became my father.

March forward to today. Discipline is lax both at home and at school. A few months ago, I had the dubious pleasure of watching three teachers trying to control a potentially violent situation at the gates of the local school. A large Maori lad, about 15 (?stone ), was facing two male teachers with outstretched hands, desperately trying to defuse the enraged boy. A couple of yards away, a female teacher was remonstrating with a girl who was actively taunting the boy. The boy responded with grave threats of violence. As the boy advanced, his way was blocked by the teachers working in concert. At no time did the teachers make physical contact with the pupils. Eventually, both kids lost their steam, and the much-relieved teachers escorted them back into the school, separately. But it seemed a close-run thing that could have gone awry with just a twitch. When I was at school, discipline was maintained by our natural respect for authority figures, and teachers fitted that role. And indeed, if steely-eyed sanctions failed, the teachers of the day could lay hands on rebellious students. Pupils could be physically restrained, and corporal punishment was the norm. I wasn't a particularly naughty pupil, but there were occasions when I was caned, slapped across the leg and hand with the ruler and spanked with the pump. On one instance, I had a well-aimed blackboard rubber bounce off my well-appointed noggin- 'good shot, Sir'. At home, I was verbally and physically disciplined. Now, let me be clear. I am not advocating that the young folk of the land should be physically assaulted in the name of discipline. I raised two wonderful humans to respect others and be good citizens of the land, without ever performing an act of violence on their beautiful blond/blonde heads. With a glance and a word, discipline was maintained. Of course, no system is perfect, and a little high-spirited rebellion is to be expected and tolerated. We are not raising unthinking drones, after all.

There has to be a middle ground within society where teachers are allowed to physically restrain students in difficult circumstances without the career-ending indignity of arrest and incarceration. Young minds are inherently immature, and if left to meander unrestrained within society, insanity will ensue. We are starting to see that in the Western schoolroom. With zero sanctions, there is zero control. The internet is festooned with anecdotal stories from teachers, crazed by administrative direction, that undermine the core values of education. Today, I heard from a frustrated teacher, on the verge of collapse, about how she must award a 50% mark to a student for unsubmitted work on a project. A piss poor submission of unredeemable effort and quality receives an automatic 66% mark. In a classroom where no one can fail, even if they never turn up or submit work, what is the point?  A rubber stamp approves laziness and stupidity. No wonder US teachers are leaving the profession in unprecedented numbers. Indeed, the lunatics have finally taken over the asylum.   

And there's more: Consider the situation in an American university sorority where a supposed transgender, born male, now 'female' managed to insinuate itself in a traditional all-biologically-female (is there any other type?) sorority with the backing of the university administration. The situation is ludicrous. Apparently, the individual in question is 6' 2' and weighs 240 lbs and makes no effort to dress or behave femininely. This he/she has been foisted on the all-female biological sorority against the wishes of the majority of the real female members under the rule of inclusivity. Apparently, this individual becomes patently aroused in the girl's presence, acts in a creepy manner and asks the girls inappropriate questions. Such as: "Can you describe your vagina?" The girls took the matter to court in order to have he/she removed from the sorority as it is an all biologically female association. The judge adjudicated in favour of the interloper on the basis that the sorority's rules, written in the 1850s, do not specifically exclude transgender wierdos, er, I mean he/him/she/her/it/that/ferret. The girls are seriously considering dissolving the sorority and starting anew with new rules for acceptance, with specific reference to the presence of anatomical female pudenda. Genius move by the girls. And then I watched a video of two backpackers, aged in their 20s, obviously boyfriend and girlfriend. They seem to be positioned in a high street festooned with shops. The shop's camera captures the incredible unfolding situation in all its sad, pathetic clarity. As the couple stand in the elusive peace of the street, an incident unfolds. Out of the blue, a young man appears and grabs hold of the woman's backpack. This is the cue for the boyfriend to rush to his girlfriend's aid, beating off the assailant to the relief of the girlfriend, thus illustrating the age-old rule: A man protects the womenfolk. But no, boyfriend nervously looks on as his partner furiously and bravely keeps hold of the backpack. The assailant keeps on attacking. Boyfriend now decides to retreat behind a pillar, occasionally glancing to see how the proceedings are developing. This crazy situation seems to go on for an indordant amount of time. The brave girl is not giving up her backpack. Eventually, a gaggle of real men intervene, and the weasel (note: not a ferret) of a thief is taken down. Once the danger had dissipated, the now 'brave' boyfriend appears from behind the safety of his pillar to administer succour and comfort to his courageous girlfriend. Too late the hero. I hope with all my strength and enraged sinew that this brave young lady kicks the ex-boyfriend in the bollocks and starts dating to find a real man. I am not saying that all men of the latest generation are blatant, wretched cowards. But there is a definite move to undermine masculinity and promote male softness. Men are being emasculated without consent, and the trend continues.      

I'm lost. I don't understand society and its so-called rules. The crazy thing is, most folk, including later generations, don't get it too. Doesn't matter. Quiet dissenting voices of the majority are drowned out, beaten down by a small cadre of screaming, strident, raucous and strangely unpleasant people. And we see that this insanity is increasingly backed by those in power. Freedom of speech is becoming a fiction in Western society. A right that has been gained by the blood of our forefathers is being stripped away by those who only care about image and money. The majority have been discarded for the insanity, posing as inclusivity, of every minority group with an agenda that is getting increasingly strange and beyond the comprehension of everyday folk. I am lost and awash in a society that I no longer ubderstand or want to be part of,