My animal instinct tells me to fear

How lucky are we to be in a democracy? Remember George Orwell’s novella, Animal Farm.

I read it as a child. I am reminded of the slow, creeping blackness of the veil drawn over the animals on the farm and the hope evaporating. When would the ‘other’ animals realise what was happening? They did, and so my hopes were raised and dashed, by the apathy, fear and exhaustion. How could they rise up against such powerful beings, who once had been their equals, wondering if it could get worse? Could such cruelty exist? The slow drip of oppression; so clever. Had they imposed their rules brutally, the others would have realised sooner, when they had the strength to rise up.

Our elderly have been treated no better than Boxer the horse, who couldn’t believe ‘such things’ could happen on the farm that had been his home for so long. But, like Boxer, maybe their strength has left them; betrayed by those in whom they had trusted too much. He had assisted, unwittingly, in their rise to power, as have we. Is it because we are lacking, or because we hoped that compassion would win through? How wrong we were.