Cowardice is all that grows in the ashes of valor. I don’t know if that fact has been remarked upon previously. Just as I don’t know the number of words launched at observing how earnestly man deploys self-praise as salve for his frailties. Though if the lucid men of antiquity have left no record, it can only be because we have lurched beyond their insight.
The ongoing invasion of the West, with its now routine attendant massacres, has revealed pockets of the human psyche that probably weren’t as apparent until being pulled open by modernity’s unique social mandates.
Perhaps the most bizarre of these novel customs is the now requisite marches and proclamations that bloom from pools of European blood like mushrooms from compost. In every instance, the insistence is that the natives must do nothing whatsoever about the source of these attacks, as that would be giving in. Giving in to not being killed, raped, and colonized. This position–its advocates assure us–is one of “defiance.” But defiance of whom or what precisely is unclear.
Certainly this gaudy display in Barcelona expresses no defiance toward those who smeared their countrymen across the asphalt. If Heather Heyer had been killed by this driver, no liberal would have ever spoken her name. In fact the father of the youngest victim has now conspicuously embraced and absolved the murderer’s tribal kindreds. For modern Europeans, it is only people who don’t want you dead that must be shunned.
The high-volume mantra in these ostensibly defiant marches is WE ARE NOT AFRAID. But is barring your neck an act of courage or cowardice? Is denying or accommodating your enemies the more honest expression of resistance? Are these thousands of non-islamaphobic Spaniards actually standing up for themselves, or supplicating under false slogans of fortitude?
In 1941 FDR didn’t say WE ARE NOT AFRAID while hugging Hirohito and acquiescing to imperial garrisons in Kansas City. He did what not afraid has historically entailed: he fought the Japanese–even the ones who didn’t personally bomb Pearl Harbor. It is only recently that bootlicking and obliviousness have come to be called bravery.
If I saw my neighbors leave their young children unattended in the street, I would feel little admiration for their backbone if they explained WE ARE NOT AFRAID OF TRAFFIC.
Similarly, whether a man is or is not afraid of cancer is less a comment on his courage than whether he fights the affliction vigorously, or lies down to die while muttering about carcinogenophobes.
The truth of these defiance rallies is that they exist specifically to signal non-defiance. We surrender. Our home is yours. We’ll destroy any of our own who oppose you. Just please let us grovel in peace. This is what our ego demands we call courage. It’s the only thing that grows in the ashes of valor.