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Reason and Rationality
'If one should doubt that such an elite group exists or that we are living in plutocracies, one need only observe astonishing wealth inequality among men and the reaction of the state to the peaceful demonstrations of discontent by the masses – they are met with violence and rage, for the state is deathly afraid of the power of the people.' p. 16.
'Where exactly the mind itself is located is as mysterious as the soul, yet it constitutes an integral part of our personality and “who” we perceive ourselves to be. Though we marvel at its obscurity and strive to understand its mechanics, we may never discover the centre, nor find any logic or reasoning in its dense, impenetrable walls of apparent madness. Even in moments of the utmost clarity, we stumble our way through dimly-lit corridors, where from every crevice, monsters lurk in anxious anticipation of capitalizing upon our most precious dreams and fantasies.' p. 6.
'Adamiak sat beside the straw mattress with his back to the wall in that lumbering, sleepless time, allowing the sensation of his own inevitable fate wash over him with little more than a vague sense of incredulity. He felt dispossessed in his own land, yet knew that he would never be able to escape it and that one day it would finally open its snarling jaws and swallow him whole. What was there left to do? All hope had been savagely beaten out of him and he couldn’t imagine a time when it would return. He saw his life as one of abject imprisonment in a system he, nor anyone else he knew, could very much comprehend.' p. 211.
'Nobody knew what to do anymore. The sense of hopelessness was palpable. It was on the streets, it was it the shops, it was in the pubs, it was at the parks, it was everywhere. The city thrived on the desolation of the people. Their inward misery attached itself to the words they spoke, the way they moved; how they shuffled along, head down through the bustling streets, going nowhere. Even the sky above them seemed to groan with exasperation. There was no safe haven, no refuge from it all. It was worldwide, universal, omnipresent and Ireland, though not a key player, was as much of a problem as any other “developed country.” Vera saw all these things, but like most people, just didn’t know what to say anymore. How could she help? How could she change things? A lowly scrub like her? No. Even if she was someone she couldn’t change things. The whole thing felt lost to human control in general. Greed had spoiled the world and made a mockery of Mother Nature. They were all destined to die for the sake of a handful of money-grubbing vampires and when they were gone, finally annihilated, destroyed, obliterated, for no crime but their very existence, those same vampires would inherit the earth – bleeding it dry until they had nothing left to drain but each other. Where was the justice in it all? There was no justice. There was no justice and it broke her heart.' p. 44.
Reason and Rationality(in Tumultuous Times)
When we take at face-value the version of reality which is presented to us by the proponents of neoliberal capitalism, we find ourselves grappling endlessly with the inconsistencies, contradictions and inconsonance of a system that, for decades, has left many of us in the dark with little more than a feeling of being left behind and a growing sense of foreboding. The air around us has changed and the future for humanity suddenly appears much murkier and uncertain, yet the establishment, which have ruled from up on high since time immemorial and are largely driving these changes, appear unprepared for and unaware of what’s coming.
The real questions that define our era, yet that have remained ignored, unanswered and out of the public debate for so long, are beginning to bubble to the surface and due to the greed and incompetence of the elite, we are forced to look to each other to begin to find answers. We are informed by the media that we are experiencing an “economic recovery,” that we are in a boom, that we are richer than we have ever been; why then do we, individually and collectively, feel so much poorer? We are told by politicians that jobs are coming back and that the numbers of unemployed are down, why then are so many of us underemployed and unemployed, why does it seem like quality of jobs have been usurped by an enormous quantity of ill-paying, benefit-less, precarious work? We are told by institutions that our standard of living is constantly rising, why then do we see so much misery on a daily basis, so much homelessness, so much drug and alcohol abuse, mass despair, relationships and marriages falling apart?
Reason and Rationality is a book that explores the socio-economic and political effects of capitalism in modern times; how living within a capitalist paradigm impacts our democracy, our institutions, our standard of living, our relationships and our lives as a whole. It is a written warning to open our eyes to the devastating impact of an economic ideology which has ceased to serve humanity and instead enslaves masses of people in debt, meaningless dead-end jobs and a life of continuous, unmanageable chaos – where our daily routine revolves around going from one crisis to the next, barely keeping our heads above water. All the while, the wealth is being drained from society by a tiny elite which has grown so bloated and gluttonous, they are literally feeding on the rest of society; eating up productive activities, financializing the economy, leeching profits as middlemen and fat-cat financizers, as the rest of us are paid peanuts to keep the economy moving. Yet the costs for many have begun too much to bear – our sense of purpose in life, our relationships and our communities are deteriorating beyond repair as the benefits of continuing on become more and more elusive.
We have reached the end of the benefits of capitalism, a stage of economic development that theorists have dubbed “post-capitalism,” when the system around us in collapsing and dragging with it ecosystems, homes, livelihoods, as well as our collective future. The media continues to inform us that we are in a “recovery” while millions around the world scramble to survive and other than the cries of anguish, we hear little more than the death pangs of the planet. Instead of progression, we have deindustrialization, instead of hope, we have widespread poverty, instead of ambition, we have disillusionment and despair, instead of technological development, we have surveillance and secret data-harvesting, instead of leaders, we have clowns on tightropes, keeping us distracted while our dignity and humanity are robbed from us by inhuman corporate entities.
The central premise of this book is that of control and power; of who has the power to control the masses; how it is achieved and to what end. The text, in a thorough examination of these issues, is divided into three segments respectively. The first deals with how neoliberal capitalism affects our democratic system, the second delves into the ideological concepts that have legitimized the economy paradigm we live within today and what it is like to experience this paradigm, and the third examines the psychological and emotional impact of living under the dominance of the global neoliberal capitalist regime.
Generation X and the millennial generation alike face a future more uncertain than anything which has come before. I refer to us as “Generation Apocalypse,” as we have nothing left to hope for the future, even the prospect of a secure job, or our own home have become fairytale dreams as the looming dilemma of climate change and the turbulent nature of our inherently corrupt economic system are threatening to destroy us all. We have a choice to make now; continue to watch the circus that swirls all around us, expanding in size and intensity as our problems exacerbate, or use what’s left of our reason (and rationality) to move past these, the most tumultuous, of times.
The UndergroundMan Emerges
You may find little more on these pages than the rantings and ravings of an unwieldy, self-destructive beast and indeed, in a somewhat convoluted sense, that may just be the grand sum of what it is. But I dare you, dear reader, to tear off your self-righteous mask and, for the briefest of moments, focus your sight past the chaos of the circus in front of you. Slide your gaze away from the clowns on their pedestals and the whirling trapeze artists, as difficult as that may be, for you may begin to notice the dark shadows dancing on the curtain behind them. And maybe (just maybe) you will wonder as I did, and continue to do, why these contorted silhouettes appear nothing like their living counterparts...why they seem to have a life of their own, thoughts of their own, a world of their own. What is it that truly lurks beneath all these shimmering lights? And why does it send a shiver down your spine to realize for the very first time that they are there throughout every second of everyday, blurring and even blinding your vision, obfuscating the notion that perhaps the real show, for all these many years, has been what’s going on behind the scenes.
Before sinking into my subterranean solitude, I had spent my life in search of something, yet up until this very moment in time I never really knew what it was. I strived in vain to encounter someone who might know the answer, I scavenged the earth for a place I thought would provide a clue; I prowled the streets at night, growing hungrier and hungrier for an experience which would inspire my mind to see the solution, yet all of this, alas, amounted to naught. With crumbling exasperation, I finally gave up on attempting to maintain any kind of pretence toward a normal life and withdrew inwards to the one place left in the world where sanctuary still existed – my own mind. And now that we’ve reached the penultimate pinnacle of another decade, the entirety of which I have spent underground, I realize that these endeavours had, in truth, been mere distractions; a pitiful means of avoiding the plain hard facts; and I know too that what I believed myself to be searching for all along I had already, in many respects, found, or rather, it had already found me.
The truth is a powerful thing and when it stares you it the face it can be almost petrifying. Yet, in spite of the risk of this merciless trauma, I believe that it is time to stop watching the circus; I believe it is time to acknowledge the presence of these dark figures and come to terms with the fact that their world is ours, and ours theirs, that we are them and they are us, that their reality is our reality. After a century and a half seeped deep in contemplation, I have slowly begun to emerge back out into the realm of the living, all but ready to feel the pulsating desperation and despair of humanity once more. For all those many years my mind had been between two worlds; trapped in a sort of no man’s land where the paysage was starved and barren and the self-disparagement bitter. There has been no one around to confer with nor a single soul with which to explain this terrible angst. The silence has been piercing and the one person I felt assured could wrest me from my existential turmoil once and for all fled the shelter of my bunker many ions ago - leaving me here for dead.
The past then slid away from me, dragging with it most of the people I knew before and, for some reason beyond my comprehension, I cared about it not a bit. I had allowed these things, these places, these people to fall away from my memory like flakes of dead skin from an athlete’s foot and, as surprising as it was to myself, I felt that I had no more use for them, no reason besides sentimentality to keep them around. My life seemed to have collapsed and rebuilt itself simultaneously; the old structures rotting away and being demolished piece by piece, replaced by new foundations that are, to this day, under constant construction, keeping me and my thoughts in a state of tortured stasis.
Needless to say, I spent the longest time in a place of terrified confusion, paralysed by indecision. The choice I was eventually presented with by the great, ever-churning wheel of life, however, was really no choice at all; I could either spin the spokes and hope for the best or perish right there among the rumble of my stagnant existence. Of course I wanted to give the world another chance, even if only for the thrill of playing again, yet I feared that my luck had long run out; depleted after years of trying my arm over and over. Perhaps I should have given up this exercise in madness, yet the stubborn streak within me which runs a mile wide refused to surrender to the bright, white light. My sense of indignation has grown too aggrieved to contain - it wants blood, it wants justice and it wants the watchers to know that all this time they too have been watched. The atrocities of the past will not be forgotten, will not be forgiven and will be forever etched into the walls of the prison that is human history. And even if nobody ever reads these words, it matters not. What matters is that they exist and constitute a tiny, yet not insignificant fraction of the grand human narrative; the story of one person who, in spite of himself, could not look away any longer, even if the sight before him was utterly jarring.
And so it was that I began to prepare myself to leave my underground sanctuary, my place of ease and comfort, in order to confront the demons which plague our world and attempt to lead us to total damnation. Resurfacing from my place of solace was as tryingl as any tribulation I’ve ever had to endure. One moment when I shut my eyes the mood felt warm, bright, relieving, yet when I reopened them again, it was pitch dark, raining, the leaves were falling from the trees and it was cold; colder than I’d ever dare imagine it could be. Many seasons seemed to have passed without me noticing. The transition has been a painful and deeply confounding one. In truth, I did not want to emerge from my place in the dark, yet this new awareness that has been foist upon me in combination with the knowledge I have, in my unending underground nights, managed to procure meant that I could no longer in good conscience continue to lurk beneath the waking world, unobserved. It is for this reason also that I must implore those who remain in the shadows still, who dwell in their underground bunkers, to see reason and to acknowledge that this is a fight worth arising for – even if we are a disgusting and deeply flawed species, even if we are sure to lose - the moral imperative to stand up for humanity at this time is simply too profound to ignore.
I have now come conscious to a world where Kardasians are celebrities, celebrities are politicians and politicians are orange, extraterrestrial space-monkeys determined to bring our planet to its knees. It is frightening, I know, when lunacy has all but taken over, yet as traumatic as it all might be, reason (and rationality) will be the only things left to cling to when the curtain finally falls. Since the inauguration of Donald Trump, there have been those who have posited that we are all, as humankind, living out some form of collective nightmare; that Trump and his administration are the stuff of fantasy and have no basis in what we would have hitherto called “reality”. There is also a theory floating around in the ether that a vast number of us have entered a parallel universe of sorts and that, having been transported to another world where this phenomenon is considered normal, we are essentially newcomers traversing a strange, alien landscape where, horror of horrors, it is feasible for such a clown to seize power. Although these ideas are somewhat fantastical and difficult to prove, I do not deny that it is possible – the universe is a vast, mysterious place of which we have little or no comprehension. I believe it far more likely, however, that this president is the direct product (and consequence) of years of living under the combined forces of the neoliberalism and American exceptionalism and whether or not this is some kind of mass illusion or nightmare, it has become the reality with which we must face, the one to which we wake up to every morning.
The fact of the matter is that the financial-political elites which have lorded themselves over the rest of global society for the past fifty or so years are simply no longer fit to rule. They represent the continuation of a system that is destroying humanity and the planet simultaneously and they show no signs of abating. They benefit so much from the status quo that they would do anything to ensure its preservation and so dedicated they are to this task that they will keep going, even if, in the end, it will mean their own demise. Indeed, perhaps it is them who share a collective illusion; one that is causing mass famine, refugee crises of unprecedented proportions, ceaseless conflicts, the decimation of ecosystems and the impoverishment of billions of people around the world, from west to east, from north to south. The truth of this may become shrouded in the dramas and the theatre of the so called democratic systems, yet as time goes on the masks begin to fade, the costumes wither away and the music ceases. All we are left with then is the silence as we come face to face with the demons we have tried so hard for so long to pretend don’t exist. In times of great deception such as this, it is imperative to arm ourselves with the only real tools we have left and carry with us an indefatigable passion for justice in the face of a seemingly overwhelming, yet secretly vulnerable autocratic regime.
They have stolen our rights from us, they have taken our humanity, they have murdered our children and burnt down our trees, they have slaughtered our sense of self and castrated our capacity to care, they have robbed us of everything we have ever possessed and sneered at our misfortune. But we hold the true power of this earth, for real power lies in numbers and it will take great numbers to dismantle the unsightly circus circling all around us. They may try to trick us into believing that war is peace, that freedom is slavery, that ignorance is strength, but we are perceptive, sentient beings and have the power to change this system at a moment’s notice – lest they ever forget. I have come up from the sanctity of my underground, because now is the time to face the abyss; now it is time to show you how I, in my mind’s eye, view the reality of this world. Read on, dear friends, if your hope for humanity has not already all but abandoned you!
The Schizo Synopsis
The Schizo is a short novel which examines themes of mental disintegration, isolation and the struggle to maintain a facade of normalcy in the midst of a dysfunctional, uncaring and increasingly volatile society.
Emboldened by a sense of injustice at the hands of an economic system that has failed him, his family and everyone around him, Matheo de Verrier is a man on a mission and he will stop at nothing to have his voice heard. He believes he has the answer to the ever-burning mystery of the human condition and, although the odds are stacked against him, he is not afraid to sacrifice everything, (even his own mind) for the cause of collective enlightenment.
The pressure of living in an environment of ruthless indifference and cut-throat competition begins to take a harrowing toll upon his already fragile psychology, however, and he soon finds his life unravelling at breathtaking speed. Envisioning a world where humans live at peace with each other, with their fellow animals and with the earth may not make him crazy, but the process of attempting to fight against the powers-that-be to share this dream forces him to question his own sanity.
Profit as a motive distorts and warps our perception of reality and promotes immorality in a time when peace and stability is desperately required. Life, as the axiom goes, is more about the journey than the destination and, in Matheo’s case, learning to accept one’s frailties and weaknesses becomes an adventure down the proverbial rabbit-hole from which, as we quickly learn, there can be no hope of return. Time is not on his side either and the question remains: will Matheo manage to save society and is it truly possible, in this crooked, chaotic world, to defeat humanity’s demons before his demons defeat him?
The Schizo Foreword
In Defence of Insanity
The human mind is a labyrinth. It is known to be mysterious, contradictory and even, at times, self-destructive. It has the potential to be our most intimate friend and, at the same time, our fiercest enemy. Each day we pass through its narrow passageways in pursuit of a comprehension of our deepest and, perhaps, darkest desires and rarely do we discover any trace of unambiguous logic. The importance of our innermost thoughts and feelings, though downplayed in popular culture, is fortunately not lost upon the great thinkers of our time. Chomsky, Zinn, Rushdie and Hedges, for example, understand that to recognize and appreciate our own idiosyncratic interpretation and subsequent distortion of reality is to be human – is to be alive and awake in this abominable year, Anno Domini 2019.
Acknowledging our own inevitable misconceptions and misperceptions takes us a step closer to objective facts in a time when factuality itself is under attack. As much as our conscience recoils against the prospect, with each passing moment we come closer to unearthing these inalienable truths: our bodies are not perfect, our minds are not perfect and the systems we have constructed around ourselves bear an uncanny resemblance to the now unspeakable regimes of the past.
Where exactly the mind itself is located is as mysterious as the soul, yet it constitutes an integral part of our personality and “who” we perceive ourselves to be. Though we marvel at its obscurity and strive to understand its mechanics, we may never discover the centre, nor find any logic or reasoning in its dense, impenetrable walls of apparent madness. Even in moments of the utmost clarity, we stumble our way through dimly-lit corridors, where from every crevice, monsters lurk in anxious anticipation of capitalizing upon our most precious dreams and fantasies.
Truly invaluable to us is our private realm far away from the relentlessly judging eyes of our peers, for it is the only place where our thoughts are ours alone to hold onto and not share with any other living creature. Our inner voice is our only company in times of solitude and our last refuge in times of abject turbulence. The mind is viewed as a sacred space where one can safely conjure up all sorts of secret imaginings and fantasies and dreams; where one can hold conversations with oneself in the consideration of all kinds of issues, from insignificant insecurities to life-threatening phobias, to the contemplation of the meaning of existence itself, in a manner which no other animal on earth could possibly fathom.
It is therefore important to examine the question of what might happen when the outside world and the sacred space begin to encroach upon one another in a manner which most would find, at the very least, discomfiting. To be “insane” is to harbour an alternative perception of reality; to see things that, to the objective observer, are not there; to perceive situations and people differently; to stand outside looking in, as opposed to inside looking out. Yet we must ask ourselves if these qualities determine a flawed character, a sick mind, or simply a person whose perception is tuned to a different wavelength than our own.
As our surroundings become more and more anathema to our ability to lead healthy, happy lifestyles and the competition between us all creates a manufactured sense of hostility among brethren, how normal is it to be “normal?” How wholesome is it really to adapt to circumstances so unnatural, so incessantly stressful and so very inhibitive of our innate needs and desires as human beings? How beneficial is it to twist ourselves into pretzels in order to conform to a system that attempts to stifle and suppress who we really are as individuals at every turn? How mentally stable is it to watch one half of the world starve while the other half becomes grossly obese and think that this is a viable means for human solidarity? On the contrary, indeed, perhaps it is only the truly sound mind which fails to cope with the violence and the poverty and the misery happening all around us. Paradoxically, it is perhaps the inherently sane person who succumbs to insanity under such maddening circumstances.
To feel the instability and the pervasive lunacy surrounding us is to take a step towards attempting to unmask the hideous, unspeakable visage of our modern capitalist system. It antagonizes our instincts for survival and mocks our genuine sense of purpose in the wider world. It is a structure which abets and encourages the sacrifice of reason and logic to a haze of hormones and pheromones and no matter how much we want to bow down and acquiesce, our minds fight us at every turn. It is entirely possible to suppose that insanity is such a grave taboo because everybody is aware, at least on some level, that the manner with which society conducts itself is not in fact sane either, in any sense of that word. We do not like to discuss, in polite society, how terribly this system affects us all: how it separates us, how it tears us apart, how it destroys the planet and wipes out the animals we love, and how close to the edge each and every one of us have felt at one point or another in our lives. And just like the palpably obscene consequences of capitalism, we cannot bear to admit to ourselves how fragile and unstable we really are as a species. We cannot consciously face the fact that as a society we have become sick and, however much we may attempt to conceal and struggle internally with our own personal anxieties and inadequacies, we can no longer deny the symptoms of our collective psychological deterioration.
The relationship between mental illness and the modern economic system is still a highly understudied phenomenon that has increasingly begun to demand our attention in recent years. As suicide rates rise all over the industrialized world and pharmaceutical companies make billions peddling their “happy pills” to a depressed and desperate populace, one must acknowledge a startling trend toward the incapacity of the human mind to grapple effectively with the stresses and strains of contemporary living. It is a dangerous oversight not to appreciate the connection between society’s immersion into the depths of neoliberal capitalism and the widening plethora of mental disorders that have come to dominate the social sphere. Yet just like the stark, inadmissible failings of our economic paradigm, the ever-exacerbating problems of widespread cognitive dysfunction continue to loom like a sinister shadow over our lives, held back by a silence so fragile it could be broken by a whisper.
The following story is that whisper; it is a gentle nudge, prodding one to approach the question of how the systems we have built for ourselves have affected the stability of our psychology and whether the insane are truly “mad as hatters”, or are, in some paradoxical fashion, actually enlightened beings unwilling to be shackled to the despotic chains that keep us all trapped in a paradigm that guarantees, without the slightest uncertainty, humanity’s slow, agonizing and bloody demise. Follow with caution, dear reader, the narrative of a man who attempts to suppress the expansion of his consciousness, for it may force you examine your own mind and discover that it leads to a rabbit hole so deep and so mysterious, you may never find your way out.
Chattel Rising Synopsis
Chattel Rising is a narrative that explores themes of unemployment and social exclusion within the crony-capitalist regime.
The city of Alta Moralidad is a place where these themes play out in extremity, where wealth inequality is a matter of principle and poverty and unemployment are crimes punishable by incarceration and forced labour.
Corporations and the government have merged to such an extent that the law now favours the elite and their profiteering activities above all else. Profit is the only policy and greed has usurped all and any notions of morality.
Constant surveillance ensures submission to a state that promotes conformity over individuality and the indoctrination of young minds into believing that their sole purpose in this life is to work for and support this bloated Corporatocracy.
Most of the residents of Alta Moralidad live in abject misery and are too frightened to speak out against the regime.Two best friends, Amos Adamiak and David Richmond, take different approaches to navigating this highly discriminative system. Richmond has faith in the government and believes that the workers serve a greater purpose in maintaining the momentum of a society driven by noble service. Adamiak, however, attempts, in his own little way, to fight back and make those around him see the chains of their own enslavement.
Chattel Rising is a stark depiction of the struggle to live a peaceful existence within the confines of a brutal totalitarian regime. It begs the question of why the majority of people must submit to oppression in order for a tiny elite to live in the lap of luxury and continue to reign over humanity with an iron fist.
This is a story that reflects the dangers of wealth inequality and the kind of society we create when profits become more important than people. State power, which has been bought by big business, is used to suppress the masses and treat citizens as disposable objects or simply cogs in the machine.
Through Adamiak and Richmond’s attempt to find truth and justice in an inherently corrupt system, they discover that the things that truly matter lie in the heart of man, rather than in manmade institutions.
Chattel Rising Foreword
Mankind’s story has essentially always been that of one single narrative; one plot that reoccurs over and over in a multitude and variety of different ways, playing itself out in both the lives of individuals and, on a larger scale, among nations of every creed, class and colour.
It takes such a infinite number of forms that we may be fooled, time and again, into thinking that something entirely new is unfolding, that it is not the same tired tale reiterating itself over and over. Yet alas, upon closer inspection, the old, familiar characters, the common symbols, the usual motifs always reveal themselves to us, aching to be recognized and acknowledged for what they are; the small, seemingly innocuous clues that constitute the whole of this ever-expanding human tragedy.
The drama to which I refer describes one of the oppressed against the oppressor, the poor against the rich, the weak against the strong, light against the darkness. It is a drama which roots itself in our history and projects itself far into our future. From the pharaohs of ancient Egypt to the heroes and warriors of Greece, to the slave ships spewing forth from the heart of Africa, to the peasants working the fields of Medieval England. Whispers of our shared past echo throughout the present, reminding us that we mirror our ancestry as much as our ancestry mirrors us.
The losers are, as always, destined to be trampled upon by the winners and then locked away in a cold, dark room; their names, their faces, their existence passed over by time and entirely forgotten by their posterity. The oppressed of our world long to be recognized and thus set free, for their freedom they hold in the greatest esteem. Yet sadly what they yearn for may never come to pass, for one can only understand the significance and true meaning of freedom amidst the absence of it and it is clear that those who seek to destroy it have no appreciation of its intrinsic value.
History, therefore has always been, and will always be, written by the victors, yet this story represents an anomaly, a strange aberration that invokes the voice of the oppressed to rise up, refusing to be silenced. This is a story written by a loser about two losers, for all the losers around the world, past, present and future.
The Bread and Circus Society Synopsis
Several characters in Ireland from varying socio-economic backgrounds play witness to the revolutionary transformation which unfolds in the year 2025. The powers that be create a new system of control via an intelligent micro-chip pre-aptly called the “Serf-Gene”, which ensures total obedience to an increasingly totalitarian government in a time when economic development has stagnated and life for the majority of people has become more difficult and unbearable than ever.
The chip makes hard currency obsolete and contains the entirety of one’s personal information. It therefore acts as a form of identification, as well as retaining one’s bank details and eventually becomes obligatory in order to get a job, buy food, apply for welfare, or even visit the doctor.
As the new system is unleashed by the presiding government, a select few Dubliners decide to resist the coming changes and by-so-doing create a violent backlash that reduces the country into a bloody civil war. A militia group named the Silver Subversives fight the military in order to vie for control of the nation and liberate the people.
Consisting of five parts, the book follows the devolution of society as technocrats attempt to seize the little power and autonomy the citizens have left. We follow an eclectic selection of personalities as the question of how technology may be abused by those up on high in order to monitor and control the population they preside over is examined and explored.
The Bread and Circus Society Foreword
Ireland, a place of breath-taking natural beauty, ancient architecture and an unparalleled magnanimous character, was also a place of unnatural civil despondency and despair. The people were desperately unhappy and their descent into total hopelessness was occurring with such speed and such determination that it seemed the country had transformed overnight and become an unrecognisable abyss into which all dreams, all former beliefs and all hopes, appeared to dissolve.
Years of the draconian austerity measures, resulting from greed of wealthy bankers, were enforced by corrupt politicians and had instigated the evisceration of the middle-class and the decimation of the belief in justice and liberty to the extent that, by the year 2025, Ireland had transformed into a pit of restless gloom, where paranoia and disillusionment all but reigned supreme. The working-class poor, who now constituted the grand majority, were malnourished, unemployed and growing more infuriated by the day, while the high-rolling elite lapped up their millions in a paroxysm of gluttony never before seen in modern history.
The current mood was a presage of the worst yet to come; this was the calm before the storm. The stage was set for tumultuous unrest and a revolution the likes of which had not been seen for a hundred years. It was time for the people to revolt against their oppressors and take back the Emerald Isle once and for all. From the North to the South, from the West to the East, the hearts of the Irish beat fast with foreboding while the ground beneath them quaked.