How’s this for predicting the rotten fruit softness of the failing Liberal experiment of the past 50 years in just a few words?
In 1919 WB Yeats wrote a short religious poem called The Second Coming. This is a part:-
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
The worst certainly are full of ‘passionate intensity’ while the best — or maybe the rest– of us demonstrably ‘lack all conviction’.