My son Kyle is not a normal boy. This week he took up a teddy bear and hugged it, then brought it to me and ordered, “Hug.”
Under Patrick Manning’s rule, I came to know the names of a few of the riot police that he’d send out at the slightest citizen gathering, having met them so many times as they and their sub-machine guns monitored us trying to monitor him with only public debate, national laws and civic commitment for ammunition.
Under Manning’s cyclops eye, big brotherly love for the nation combined with decisions for our own good which seemed beyond our right to question.
Even then, it was clear, whether to combat unruly civil society or dangerous criminality, there was going to be increasing state armament to secure peace by the gun.
Five years later, when people say that we are in an undeclared state of emergency that justifies militarised civilian zones and maximum leadership, I get that desperate times call for desperate measures. Where nobody obeys any rules, it seems that only fear of violence that can manage a society where disorder and death prevail.