In the past, we didn’t have to worry about our identities.
In a way, the state, companies and other orgs were simply inefficient about collecting the intel.
That’s constructively inefficient. That’s comfortingly inefficient.
Inefficient to the extent that they allowed us to breathe.
Nowadays, identity is just in the subset of what we need to worry about. The real caballo de batalla, as the Spanish would say, is sex.
Cameron, the people who advise him, and probably most of the opposition parties here in Britain too, are looking to invade our right to sex. They want to outlaw everything we’ve grown up expecting, as full-grown adults in a country of liberal freedoms.
The only sex they seem to be capable of allowing is that which involves powerful people hurting – or even killing – the weaker amongst us. That sort of sex, they’re happy enough – it seems – to permit.
There was a time, before identities became a subset of everything we should now be worried about, that we didn’t even think about this thing I’m calling sex. It was just there; it was just a part of what we were; it was just … well … like grass which was green and skies which were gloriously blue.
The furniture of humanity. The furniture of being human.
Now that sex is in the cross-hairs of our government, now that our government is (to coin a phrase) weaponising sex, we are poorly equipped to defend ourselves against the dialectic of the sex-invaders.
We were so used, in the past, to what they are now taking away from us that we actually find it impossible to understand, any more, exactly how they’re taking it away.
So when Cameron or whoever bleats on about needing to invade our sex, we kind of dismiss the rhetoric and just carry on as we were.
Hoping against hope that at the end of the decade sex will still be there.
In some magical way.
In some mystical process.
Through the benevolence of those who are anything but benevolent.
In essence, what’s happened is we’ve forgotten precisely what we’ve lost because, in that past I refer you to, we never had to really fight for it.
A final point I’d like to make.
If, in the title and content of today’s post, I’d written the word “privacy” instead of the word “sex”, would you have read it? I don’t think so.
And therein lies – and ends – the lesson for this cold and blustery morn.