It can feel difficult to keep having opinions in this era where opinions seem to count for little.

The US President is an authoritarian bully without disguising the fact, the genocide in Gaza intensifies, the Europeans arm themselves in a historic repetition of preparation for world war, Netanyahu nominates Trump for the Nobel Peace prize, the Israeli’s build a ‘humanitarian’ city in order to herd Palestinians into a place of final erasure – parody is not a descriptive word anymore. Nor are ‘respect’, ‘diversity’, ‘dysfunction’, ‘trauma’, ‘resilience’, ‘counsel’, ‘safety’, ‘democracy’, ‘peace’ – the list goes on.

As does daily living for us fortunate ones: the birds sing at dawn and begin preparing nests, people complain about the cost of living and rest home fees, have birthdays, the cat seeks warmth, an elderly relative takes a worrying turn for the worse, the rhododendron trees ready for Spring…

And then Francesca Albanese appears like a diva, speaking truth to power, like a William Blake poem and we gasp. The Hague group of countries meet and demand (how sad we are not part of it) that nations and corporations uphold international law,  Harvard University tells Trump to get stuffed, LA migrants and supporters keep battling the ICE thugs, the word solidarity appears in discourse amongst academics, lawyers, students, local body representatives, citizens…

Are we finally waking up?

Are we hearing the death rattle of the old colonial order?