Yesterday I questioned the possible future requirement for the world to be forced to rethink how it behaves in light of the IS gangland global growth. When at school I was a member of the Army Cadets, I didn’t particularly like it but I did like to shoot the old WWII 303 riles on the range. I remember very clearly the sense of power holding a gun elicited. Of course it was all very Boys Own and fueled by my phantasmagorical imagination and gallons of testosterone but just the feeling alone in a teenager is something I have never forgotten. I also remember making wooden guns and looking down the pine barrel and getting my unsuspecting ‘victim’ in my highly accurate toilet role sniper sights. I would make a ‘Pffd’ sound as the silenced phantom bullet left on its inevitable killing trajectory delivering an equally phantom recoil. War, hunting, assassination and saving the maiden play I suppose still goes on. Since these play dates with my zombie mates, because I could never actually kill them, I have hunted real animals, always for food. That never made me feel special either because death was a real outcome complete with blood but the gun thing was always there. Guns equals power equals control and if you are in a toxic environment where someone gives you guns and as much ammo as you could possibly want you will stick the muzzle around a corner and spray a cloud of lead in the direction of a foe. It is not real, it becomes real when you get hurt or are up close to a victim or fallen comrade, this is when toys become weapons. Many of the IS children are no longer children, they are tragically killing machines, they know no better and we have to know how to manage our feelings and our responsibilities in stopping them. This is going to be just one rethink of Civilization.
Oh so sadly such is life.
Until the next time this is Brodie Goozée