Around the World in 80 Days, Day 64: The United Kingdom of Great Britain & Northern Ireland, Part 1 – The March of Folly

We are now in the fourth quarter of the Around the World in 80 Days project.  To recap the countries covered thus far:

Birmingham, Alabama > Los Angeles, California > Auckland, New Zealand > Brisbane, Australia > Tokyo, Japan > Okinawa, Japan > Singapore > Hong Kong, China > Delhi, India > Moscow, Russia > Jos, Nigeria > Johannesburg, South Africa > São Paulo, Brazil > Buenos Aires, Argentina > Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay > Rio de Janeiro, Brazil > Santiago, Chile > Lima, Peru …

… and now The United Kingdom of Great Britain & Northern Ireland.

Zachary and I were looking forward to London.  Lauri and my daughter, Sasha, were meeting us here and, after such long separation, the reunion was a happy one.  Zachary and I also like this city.  We have been here many times.  I was a student here as an undergraduate studying history.  I love the theatres, the restaurants, and some of the people in London—fewer and fewer—even speak English.  And as much as I love London, and I do love it, I increasingly find it remarkably un-English, un-British, and uncivilized.

Earlier this year, I was in a taxi in Central London when the driver made an ill-advised turn onto Piccadilly.  Then again, it wasn’t his fault that thousands of demonstrators clogged this main artery in one of the world’s great capital cities.  At first the protestors kept to the opposite side of the road, but soon they engulfed the whole width of this fashionable boulevard, bringing traffic to stop.

They carried signs with such clever slogans as:

“F—k Trump!”

“Feed Your Trump Rage with Enthusiasm!”

“P—y Power!”

“Say No to Fascism!  Say No to Racism!”

And then there was my favorite:

“Love Trumps Hate!”

The irony of this was too rich with the many expressions of hate emanating from the signage of this mob.

“They need to get jobs,” my taxi driver said angrily.

His frustration was understandable.  Here he was, trying to earn a living, and protestors were preventing it.  But he was wrong on one point.  A well-heeled lot, there was little kinship between these people and the poor, hungry masses who populated these same streets in the mid-nineteenth century and about whom Dickens wrote.  On the contrary, whether it was from their parents, the lottery, or steady employment, they clearly had some means of income.

“Look at them with their lattes,” my driver continued.  “Who is oppressing them?  Why not protest the Muslims who really are oppressing people?  But you won’t see them do that.  They haven’t the balls to do it.”

Given that it was largely a parade of women, they certainly didn’t.  Even so, this man was proving to be Rush Limbaugh with a British accent.

With thousands of people now on every side of this iconic black taxi, I paid Limbaugh-the-cabbie and got out.  Bracing myself against the car, I pushed off as if from the side of a pool, squared my shoulders, and moved in the opposite direction of this human onslaught.  London hadn’t been stormed like this since the Celtic Queen Boadicea sacked and burned the place in 61 AD.  Of course, her motley crew wasn’t neatly outfitted in Ralph Lauren as these modern pillagers were, and she didn’t stop to take selfies, either.  She also had some justification—her daughters had been raped by the Roman occupiers.  But the taxi driver was right: who was oppressing these people?  And what was their objective?

“Anarchy,” said one astute Londoner.

Plowing through the crowd, I cut across Green Park and flagged down another taxi.  He got me no farther than the Old Admiralty Building where, once again, I had to abandon the car.  Having given up hope of reaching my original destination, I doubled-back toward the City Centre.  The streets were littered with the trash of a people who were protesting—among a litany of other things—Trump’s apparent disregard for the environment.

Exhausted, I finally reached my hotel, turned on the television, and was jarred by the sight of a ranting Ashley Judd, intoxicated with the illusion that she was leading the masses in a modern storming of the Bastille:

“I feel Hitler in the streets,” she screamed into a handheld mic.

She went on to speak of gas chambers, “blacks in shackles,” and “Nazis in the cabinet.”

Was I watching—no, was I living—Invasion of the Body Snatchers?

All of this was oddly misdirected and out of any sense of proportion.  Again, the taxi driver was right.  Muslims are burning captives alive in the Middle East; they are slaughtering Christians at a rate of 100,000 per year globally; and they are committing equally heinous terrorist acts throughout the West (and in this city) and these protestors saw the tampon tax—no kidding—as a sign of oppression and Donald Trump as a would-be Hitler.  Led by the richest of the rich Hollywood types, they had no idea of what oppression actually looks like.  So, they manufactured it, believing that if they said it enough, it would be true.

But it was all so contrived.  As C.L. Bryant, radio host and former NAACP leader, told me:

“These people want to act as if they are fighting against a racist and sexist regime, but those battles have been waged and won.  There are no doors closed to women or to people of color in this generation that were once closed to my generation.”

Moreover, the values supposedly championed by these protestors—tolerance, freedom, diversity, love—are derived from a Judeo-Christian worldview, but having divorced these ideals from God, they lacked a fixed point, thus rendering these people all sail, no anchor.  That is why they will not—and ideologically cannot—confront Islam.  To do so is interpreted as intolerant and racist.  Never mind the intolerance of Islamic states—which regularly oppress, imprison, and execute non-Muslims—and the fact that Islam is not a race, it is a religion.  That said, according to the bizarre illogic of Alt-Lefties like Madonna, blowing-up the White House seems perfectly rational.

I ended my day plotting a protest of my own—one that condemns an educational system that has become an incubator of radicalism, a church that had abandoned its doctrines, and a media that ignores all but its own opinions, and, as a consequence, has inculcated these frivolous people with the rubbish ideas that served to fuel their march of folly.  But that’s probably a waste of time, too.  This is the face of London in recent years.

Just days ago, it was revealed that London is now more dangerous than New York City.  According to The Telegraph:

“London is now more crime ridden and dangerous than New York City, with rape, robbery and violent offenses far higher on this side of the Atlantic.  The latest statistics, published earlier this week, revealed that crime across the UK was up by 13 per cent, with a surge in violence in the capital blamed for much of the increase.  Seizing on the figures, US President, Donald Trump, claimed the rise could be linked to the ‘spread of radical Islam,’ adding that it demonstrated the need to ‘keep America safe.’  But critics dismissed his comments as ‘ignorant’ and ‘divisive,’ with former Labour leader Ed Miliband calling him an ‘absolute moron.’”

However pleasing Miliband’s comments might have been to the Trump-haters, Trump is right.  Take, for example, the massive Rotherham Sex Scandal, where, according to reports, roughly 1,400 British girls were systematically raped by sex gangs consisting chiefly of Pakistani Muslim men.  This took place over the course of 15 years and was repeatedly ignored by authorities.  Why?  According to one Member of Parliament, because “no one wanted to rock the multicultural boat.”  Fearing the “racist” tag, social workers and police refused to investigate and intervene.  And Rotherham is not an isolated incident.

Devoted to the Open Society philosophy, Britain’s ideologues have placed a higher value on their political objectives and the unworkable, impractical, and illogical concept that is multiculturalism.  You’d think they would have learned by now.  But the engineers of the Open Society are insulated from the decisions they make and have willfully blinded themselves to their consequences.  I am reminded of an astute observation of Malcolm Muggeridge, the late English journalist and Leftist-turned-Christian:

“People, after all, believe lies, not because they are plausibly presented, but because they want to believe them.”