True story. While on my ‘tapas tour’ of Andalusia last summer I wandered into a church in the heart of Seville. It wasn’t a particularly noteworthy church in that it didn’t appear in the tourist guides or anything, but the doors were open and it certainly looked gloriously alluring.
The place was empty so I settled on a pew right at the front in order to take in the ridiculously Baroque splendour of the golden arches, (very much not McDonald’s) the intricate frescoes, elaborate carvings and pale marble statues. Talk about immersive, I was utterly dumbstruck by the overwhelming, majestic symmetry of it all. That’s when it happened.
Maybe I’m a late developer, but in an instant everything became crystal clear: I saw the locals from 1460 or 1580 or whenever bent low in prayer, barefoot with ragged clothes wrapped around themselves respectfully. I saw the priest in his gleaming white robes wielding a golden staff. I could hear the Latin incantations as they reverberated off the holy relics amid the cries of babies and the barking coughs of the sick and elderly. Eventually, the bone shaking crescendo from the gilded organ pipes brought the spectacle to a climax as the humble congregation fumbled in sackcloth purses to pay their dues. And as they shuffled off to their damp, draughty mud-brick dwellings they knew that god would take care of them, both in this life and the next. After a show like that, who could doubt it?
But this was not the revelation. My revelation was that this is precisely what we’re witnessing today. Our high priests may not dress in robes or wear the Mitre, or mutter their warnings in classical tongues, but the message is exactly the same: “follow us and you will be saved. Give us just a little more of your earnings and we will make things right. Can you not see? We are the great and the good. We are here to help you. Do not be distracted by our possessions or our wealth. We have the ear of God. We know what is best for you. Do the right thing. It’s for the greater good.”
Don’t get me wrong. Those chisel featured priests may not have been the life of the party but they weren’t evil. They believed they were saving our souls and controlling our aspirations for the greater good. You can’t have poor people running around doing their own thing for god’s sake! Today’s high priests are no different. They wield their power because, like the golden staff, they hold it. It’s one of our inherent failings: give a man the power to decide who should be allowed to drink lemonade and he will use it.
We instinctively know this and yet still we remain silent. They threaten to take our boilers, our gas hobs and our log burners and we do little but shrug. They tell us to travel less, drink less and not to enjoy ourselves too much. They tell us we have too many possessions, to lower our aspirations and to cut our cloth accordingly…while they drive us relentlessly to the cliff edge of eternal debt. They tell us our long held values are irrelevant, our families outdated, our logic skewed and our anger misplaced. They tell us to shower less, turn down the thermostat, switch the tap off whilst brushing our teeth and not to forget to wash our yoghurt pots before they’re carted to landfill. Banqueting billionaires beg us to eat fake meat as they gorge themselves on bloody venison. Inveterate corruptocrats lecture us on the importance of kindness and charity whilst lining their pockets with our taxes. The elites lie to us about absolutely everything because they do not trust us with the truth and silence those that dare question their narrative. They crow about how much they help us and censor how much they hurt us. But in spite of all this, I do not blame the ‘nanny state’, for like our Sevillian priests they believe they act for a higher authority. No, we are to blame for deriving comfort from our own infantilisation. Shame on us.
Yes, this blog may be nothing but a personal rant about the state we’re currently in but I’m convinced things have shifted dramatically post Covid. The mainstream narrative is crumbling and you can smell it on the streets; in bars, pubs and coffee shops, on the bus, anywhere that people gather the conversation quickly turns to the visceral distrust of all the bigs: big state, big pharma, big finance, big science, big government and big media.
Yesterday’s churches have, of course, been usurped by contemporary colossal structures. Today’s banks and insurance companies reach much further to the heavens, to make you feel even smaller than that old lady from Seville back in 1620. But just like the church the job of big finance is not to make you richer…just happier with your lot. Stay down there they say. Oh, and we’re increasing your premium to help gold plate the clock in our lobby. I do hope you do the right thing. Your custom is important to us.
Perhaps because we’re distracted or guilty or both we’ve allowed the elite class to convince us that the future will be a place of penitence, sacrifice and contrition. These prohibition fanatics have sold us what is clearly a religious doctrine, but one that has, most disturbingly, completely captivated our children. But if we have even the tiniest fragment of optimism left within us we must know that the future can never be about diminishment.
The next time you spot the levies on your gas bill know that you are just another poor churchgoer rummaging for coppers to pay for extra gilding. Never let the diminishers diminish you for they do not have your best interests at heart. So, hang on tight to your boiler and stand firm against your gas hob.
Preferably with a big fat Cuban cigar clenched between your teeth.
Join me on X @retailfuturist for cherry picked proof that we’re all going mental.
