Dark Night of the Collective Soul

Dark Night of the Collective Soul

“There is no anchor any more. At the core of the administration of the most powerful country on earth, there is, instead, madness.”

~ Andrew Sullivan, “The Madness of King Donald,” The New Yorker

It came as a twilight, an eerie dusk whose faded light revealed the shadows of long-hidden beasts. Trepidation hung in the air like a damp chill as a steady wind blew, carrying whispered warnings. Low clouds gathered overhead as thunder rumbled from some distant place.

And then the storm was upon us. Lightning crashed and hard, cold rain fell as the wind howled like a chorus of injured beasts. Somewhere in a dark forest, an ancient door creaked open and mad dogs were loosed—an army of them—barking and ravenous, tearing to pieces everything in their path.

The storm didn’t pass. Every day brought with it more darkness, more cold rain, more barking, more chaos, more outrage and injustice. What becomes of a society when the mad dogs take over? What becomes of it when truth and reason are torn to shreds, and replaced by greed and hate?

What becomes of us when morality has nothing to do with anything?

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