lord-of-the-flies

Lord of the Flies

“I have to annihilate you. Don’t you understand? It’s nothing personal – I’d do the same to whoever was here. It’s not a choice, but a necessity, because I’m starving and there is not enough to split between two of us. One of us has to go. It’s the survival of the fittest. I’m going to make sure that I survive, even if that means the death of you. Sorry, I know that’s not a very Christian attitude, but there were people around fighting for survival before Jesus came along and told us to love everybody. I don’t believe in this “love your neighbour” stuff. That won’t get me fed. It’s all about power, not love, stupid. As Nietzsche said, God is dead. They didn’t just hug each other if they were hungry before Christ got hung on the cross. No, they ATE each other. If the chips are down, it’s dog eat dog. No room for sympathy or compassion. Instinct kicks in. It’s the concentration camp scenario, the sailors marooned on the island. It’s the Lord of the Flies. Abel and Cain. Nothing new, just normal behaviour in a famine. And, let’s face it, this is a famine to beat all famines. I’d eat you if I had to. I need you to disappear so I can have everything for myself. Look, it would be different if there was not this scarcity. If there was a glut of this stuff, then, sure, I’d share. I’d be as generous as the next person. But – get this – there is not enough for two of us, and one of us has to go, and it is not going to be me. Don’t whinge about it being mean. Don’t even suggest we share. You look as if you might be winning, and I cannot accept that. This is normal animal behaviour. There’s nothing immoral or moral about it. It’s just survival.

Why are you walking away? Why don’t you fight me then? Why don’t you want to survive yourself? Isn’t it worth anything to get what you need? Not that I care – it just means more for me.

Ah, that’s better, Mummy. You’re all mine, now. All mine.”

But the other one didn’t die. Sure, she was a bit stunted, but survival is about looking elsewhere for the things that you lack, if they are not where they should be. You don’t need very much to survive. Crumbs here and there will do until you meet someone who will share, who will give you their last crust rather than eat it themselves. Then, together, you will be able to feed others. It’s a bit like the parable, “Feeding the Five Thousand“. Which suddenly seems to make sense. As, I hope, do the pictures in the previous post.

I asked my husband yesterday whether he thought people think that I am going mad. He replied “Only those who didn’t know you were mad already”. I’m one of the sanest people I know. Or does that only confirm that I am mad?

[deleted at Lola B’s request.]

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