Club a Koala to Death and Save the Planet!
The incoherent ideology of the progressive woke is not ‘left-wing’ – it is simply the blueprint for globalist tyranny
In June I posted an essay titled We Must Stop Saying “The Left” in which I reiterated the thesis which underpins my world view – that the true architects of wokeness and all its permutations are not what we commonly think of, in Western liberal democracies, as ‘left-wing’.
This is becoming more evident by the day – most notably in ‘the left’s’ rabid embrace of Islam and more recently Hamas. One would have thought, by now, that an ideology so incoherent as to simultaneously embrace homosexuality and fundamentalist Islam would present a moral conundrum for our friends on ‘the left’. But apparently not… Queers for Palestine… Need I say more?
What most people colloquially think of as a ‘leftie’, is variously interested in workers’ rights, social welfare for those who’ve fallen through the cracks, anti-big-business, anti-war, tolerance of alternative lifestyles, and a desire to conserve the natural environment and the creatures that inhabit it.
Present that avatar to any reasonable person and they’ll tell you – “That’s a left-wing person.”
But this is no longer so. The contemporary ‘left’ has, over the past decade, been increasingly disapplying either contradictory or hugely exaggerated positions on all these long-held tenets of leftism.
The modern ‘left’ has lost all interest in workers’ rights, as was most self-evident in their support of the COVID lockdowns which precipitated the greatest transfer of wealth in all history from the working and middle classes to the top 1%. The modern ‘left’ has abandoned the principle of the safety net for those who have fallen on hard times and instead embraced the communist program of universal basic income, as well as handouts for criminals, malingerers, and degenerates. The modern ‘left’ loves big business, walking in lockstep with the censorship edicts of Big Tech, and worshiping companies like Pfizer for valiantly stepping up and saving the world from the virus with a 99.98% survival rate through the forced vaccination of the entire planet (underwritten by the tax receipts of the workers no less), while at the same time cheering on the Military Industrial Complex’s latest boondoggles in Ukraine and the Middle East – pro big business and pro war in one. And as far as alternative lifestyles go, the less said the better – one need only look at the state of any big city Pride parade, or the insertion of drag queens into kindergarten classes to understand that what is going on now has long since departed from simply taking an accommodating approach to gays and lesbians.
And as I noted at the outset, the ‘left’s’ slavering enthusiasm for everything Rainbow-related as well as the darker fringe elements they are continually affixing to the insignia is at complete odds with their love for Islam, Hamas, and Palestine.
But perhaps nowhere is the radical departure from traditional leftism more apparent than in the schizophrenic approach the modern ‘left’ takes toward the natural environment.
As reported in The Spectator on 4 November, and discussed by 2GB host Ben Fordham with Nationals MP Keith Pitt, the latest wind turbine development plans in Queensland call for the eradication of thousands of hectares of core koala habitat. But this isn’t even the most egregious aspect of sustainability doublethink contained in this latest brainchild of the new progressive order – the environment controls in the plan stipulate the preferred method for euthanising these iconic creatures: “a sharp blow with a hammer to the skull.”
Ben Fordham clarifies, “The environmental impact statement for that project says that euthanasia will be conducted using blunt force trauma. Blunt force trauma is recommended to humanely kill reptiles to small-to-medium sized mammals. This involves a hard, sharp blow to the base of the back of the skull.”
Please allow me a moment to indulge my own very personal and abject disgust at this hypocritical and barbaric proposal. I am an animal lover, and a conservationist, in the true sense of the word (conservation, as opposed to environmentalism which is not at all concerned with the natural environment and the animals that rely on it to survive, but with the myth of manmade climate change; the astroturfed boogieman of carbon dioxide, and the UN’s lunatic Net Zero agenda). I love all animals, but chief among them is Australia’s humble koala.
I first fell in love with these gentle tree-dwelling creatures when I moved here from New Zealand five years ago and have since become (some might say peculiarly) obsessed with them and I have adopted two koalas through fulltime sponsorship via the Port Macquarie Koala Hospital.
This was the first koala I adopted, Guyra Allen – a mature male, who was a permanent resident at the Hospital due to having become blind through an eye infection. Guyra Allen has sadly since passed away from old age.
And here is my current adoptee, Murwillumbah Bobby, who is also a lifetime resident at the Hospital due to nerve damage he sustained in his hind leg from a dog attack, meaning he has limited climbing and jumping ability, making his survival in the wild unlikely.
But it doesn’t stop there. I even have koalas here at home. Not real ones of course, but over the course of my previous relationship, myself and my ex-girlfriend, who is also a koala lover, assembled a small colony of soft toys, gave them names and even unique personalities, and as much as I worry what you will think of me having admitted this quirky personal detail, they even slept in the bed with us. It’s one of those silly things couples do, and was, I think, one way we had of brightening up the long, lonely Melbourne lockdown period.
Elizabeth took Percy and Paul in the separation, but here are (from left to right) Perry, Paddington and Pierre who remain with me and, I dare say, until I meet someone new at least, will continue to inhabit my sleeping quarters.
By way of interesting anecdote, you will notice that Paddington is also blind – I found him sitting in a small tree on Raglan Street in Balaclava and decided to rescue him. From the state and the smell of him, it was evident he too had been the plaything of a dog and then discarded (and then placed in the crook of the tree by some community-minded passer-by), so I took him home and we washed him up in the bath and then I got out my needle and thread and sewed up his missing eyes.
Now that I’ve sufficiently humiliated myself, I can get back on topic, but I wanted to illustrate for you my deep and undivided love for these animals so as to qualify my complete and utter outrage at the Queensland wind farm proposals; an outrage grounded in the true spirit of conservationism.
I am a conservationist and as such I completely oppose the absurd permutation of the Sustainability agenda that is the inefficient eyesore of wind turbines – not only because they are such a waste of time, money, and space, and not only because they destroy koala habitat, but because of the havoc they wreak on both the countryside and all forms of wildlife – not least birds.
In this sense one could call me left-wing. At least one could have done so, pre-2012.
It appears that to be ‘left-wing’ nowadays one must be in favour of destroying the natural environment and clubbing scared, defenceless animals to death in order to make way for the farcical steamroller of Sustainability.
Now, I don’t like it when they clear koala habitat for urban development either, and believe there ought to be robust zoning regulations in place to prevent this (one of the very few things that government is good for). It is however somewhat more sensical destroying wildlife habitat building homes for people to live in than it is erecting giant, lumbering absurdities that not only provide a mere trickle of the power created by fossil or nuclear fuel, but break down, burn out, and fall to pieces after only a few years.
Yet not all land-clearing projects are created equal. According to the Spectator article, farmers wishing to clear land for grazing pasture are met with a stiff regulatory stick. Flat White reports:
At least one wind project in Queensland plans to remove 1,400 hectares of ‘core koala habitat’. Farmers will be shaking their heads in disgust. If they so much as touch a tree that a koala is suspected of looking at, they are in big trouble.
It’s one rule for the government’s vanity projects, and another for citizens.
Other wind projects rejected by the Morrison government because they posed ‘unacceptable risks to koala habitat’ have now been approved by Labor because they are ‘required to meet legislated state renewables targets’.
The renewables targets are supreme to conservation interests.
And so we see what really undergirds the modern ‘left’: It is not a humanitarian concern for all living creatures, and a love of the natural environment; it is not a desire for clean and efficient energy (new generation nuclear power can do this at a fraction of the price and environmental damage of ideological jamborees such as wind and solar farms – look into small modular nuclear reactors (SMRs) if you’re sceptical on this); it is not even the craven abandonment of long-held ideals in favour of a lucrative realignment with the corporate superstructure (although this does play a part)…
It is, fundamentally, a cult-like adherence to globalist doctrine – a rank and servile loyalty to The Machine.
Wind turbines have nothing to do with creating ‘sustainable energy’ – we can do that cheaply, efficiently, and swiftly with nuclear.
Sustainable energy is not the endgame. The endgame is an impoverished and subservient underclass of modern-day peasants – an underclass that encircles the earth and is so hobbled by its own misery and poverty that it hasn’t a hope in hell of deposing its thin stratum of overlords.
This is why I say we must stop referring to the progressive cult as ‘the left’. They are not the left as you and I understand it and we should not bestow on them even the dubious honour associated with this moniker.
I have said before that I consider the left-right paradigm largely meaningless in the present day, but it is still useful in denoting the spectrum of core political, social, and cultural tenets of the past century and, as such, left and right do still technically exist. As I have demonstrated in this piece and elsewhere, I hold some traditionally left-wing positions, and I also hold many others that would be considered by most to be more right-wing.
And we may still use this dichotomy where appropriate, but let us stop referring to the minions of the World Economic Forum and Agenda 2030 – people like our ‘left-wing’ Prime Minister Anthony Albanese, or the wicked witch of the west, Jacinda Ardern, even – as ‘the left.’
Some decades ago, the bankers who run the world and their marketing and PR teams realised that their fraudulent enterprise could only endure beneath a cloak of kindness and empathy, and thus wokeness was born. They appropriated leftism and used it to mollify and mesmerize the young and the naïve – and now leftism, or liberalism, or whatever one wishes to call it, is not what it used to be, but whatever dissonant mishmash of hypocrisy The Machine says it is.
Let us recognise that there is nothing left-wing about cheering for a religious ideology that endorses throwing gay people off buildings.
Let us recognise that there is nothing left-wing about bashing a koala on the back of the skull to make way for a useless piece of junk posing as a source of clean and sustainable energy.
These people are not the left. They are the mindless, intoxicated foot soldiers of The Machine.
Which brings us to Tyler Durden.
Is he a parody of the narrator erected into some sort of comical ubermensch who cannot be held responsible for anything since not even the narrator knows exactly where he is?
When I first encountered Tyler way back around 1999 (when the film came out) he reminded me of the odd fictional experiment of my own. He was done in a different way (discontinuous rather than my own rather stodgier continuous narrative) but the attack on melodrama was clear. And to me, valuable. (Another thing: Tyler's voice has quote-marks; the narrator's doesn't. Tyler is direct speech; the narrator is indirect. This is clever. Tyler is clear and distinct. The narrator is evasive. This structures the anti-melodrama so the narrator ever actually acquires an identity and climbs on top. Tyler is the only identity the book needs. Somehow Fincher got to make this work in the film, too, though obviously not with the name orthographic device.)
Is the Tyler/narrator relationship homosexual? Well it's not sexual, but what sort of narrational form would that lead to? Melodrama? Statements of sexual identity turned into comfort zones? Right -- that's the very opposite of Tyler. But the issue does arise. It arises because the nice neat comfortable relationships between people are in the crosshairs of the novel all the way through, and they are all repudiated. (Or when they are not repudiated, in my opinion, this particular book fails.) This means that sexual relationships never blossom, but it also means that social relationships also never blossom (or that "homosocial" relationships are effortlessly thwarted in favour of something bigger). What does blossom is a sense that the moment you (the narrator) stop thinking, stop moving forward, stop being a shark, you are down a deep hole.
Kenneth Clark in his Civilization series made the point about Michelangelo's David that it was "the enemy of happiness". Happiness is for the proles. Happiness is for the happily married people. Happiness is for the consummated. Happiness is not for sharks. Who can live without happiness? Well that, it seems to me, is what the novel is about. (If I have a real, deep, vital complaint about the Spectator Australia, it is its prevalent STYLE -- it is the style of losers, of whingers, of the outraged and frustrated, and indeed of the happily-married but completely clueless, lost in a hostile world. This style wants happiness even more desperately than they want it on the ABC -- and gosh, what losers THEY are, on the ABC!) Everything in the modern age should be telling us how perilous it is to want happiness, and Tyler Durden is one of the few places where the alternative route is mapped.
So, this is what I think about Tyler Durden, and why I'm glad you brought it up.
The only known natural predator of the funnel-web is, you guessed it, the koala.
They're particularly partial to fried funnel-web on single gum-leaf.