A Teacher During Covid: Chapter Seventy-Eight
'A Raising of Spirits'.
“Symbolic action matters. Symbols are how we tell stories, and stories are how we make sense of the world.”
Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark
A social media personality, Clif High, beloved of nether world conspiracy theorists and those highly intelligent beyond the curve, had predicted the previous November that an event would occur that raised the spirits of those opposed to lockdowns and the vaccine programme. Clif High uses a system of data analysis of linguistics, scraped from the world wide web, where the world and all its hopes, fears and neuroses identify themselves. I won’t claim to understand it all. It is premised on the supposition that human beings predict the future unconsciously, and signals about this future leak unintentionally through language. This data can be given a numerical weighting and from there significant ‘manifestations in the timeline’ can be interpreted.
He is not the only person to do this. A very successful economist called Martin Armstrong has a computer programme named ‘Socrates’ that claims to do something similar. These are the ones acting openly. As always, if there’s a chance of any kind of edge in economic or political affairs, there is little question that ‘black’ projects would be investigating the efficacy of such approaches. We know that the Soviets were looking at this kind of thing after the Second World War. Unsurprisingly, Hitler and the Nazis had been researching it too.
I was sceptical about his prediction. (The ill-willed accuse conspiracy theorists of being paranoia and gullible, but they make a mistake – as usual. That’s the paranoid and gullible they are talking about. The genuine conspiracy theorist is, in fact, extremely sceptical and composed enough to apply scepticism. So sceptical indeed, that they even question the sugar dense, nutrition light info-fare the mainstream media tries to feed us!)
However, it must be said, Clif High has been unerringly accurate on more than one occasion. He’s been wrong too, something that a few of his most passionate adherents forget, but, on balance, having listened to him for a few years, I would say he is hitting a 50% average, with another 30% somewhere in the ballpark and 20% complete mishits. As it happened, he was half-way right: two global events struck a powerful blow to the sleek, pristine, unblemished façade of the tyranny being imposed.
Novak Djokovic was probably the least loved of the top three tennis players that had dominated the sport for fifteen years. Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal and Djokovic were so pre-eminent in the world of tennis that only a couple of players had won grand slams apart from them over the past ten years, one of them was Scotland’s Andy Murray. All three of them were at one time or another the record holder for the number of ‘slams’ won, the most important tennis prizes. All had a claim to be the greatest player ever to play the game.
Admired for his tennis, Djokovic was too much his own man to cultivate the traits that mass audiences find accessible. He had opinions. He was the most humorous of the three, but not as dashing as Federer or as fiery a Latin as Nadal, characteristics that tennis fans could be seduced by. He was Serbian too. We’d had years of conditioning to think them suspect, along with the Russians, by the state-sanctioned propagandists.
Nonetheless, despite a sometimes grudging admiration from tennis fans, his stance on vaccines was to give him the love, adoration and loyalty of hundreds of millions who were ‘vaccine-hesitant’ and who found a symbol as they suffered under loneliness, isolation and scapegoating. Single-handedly, he publicly broke the stigma on the reluctance to take the vaccine, to any fair-minded person.
To compete in the Australian Open tennis competition, he had to enter the Covid prison (mad) house that Australia had become. Literally, they had camps for those testing positive for Covid. The infectious would broadcast little clips of their quarantined, sequestered lives on social media. They lived in little huts with balconies where they could sit in the sunshine, but only with a mask on. If they removed it, then a team of medical professionals would appear in hazmat suits to enforce quarantine more forcefully. They resided under order for two weeks until they were ‘negative’ once more. The contagion of tyranny extended to wild demands from cocaine-sniffing governors of the different states for mandatory vaccination. The sceptical again wondered how camps were built so quickly and how these protocols had been put in place with so little resistance from the political class?
Australian was front-running the bio-tech, authoritarian state. This is what Djokovic was entering. A medical dictatorship. He could have avoided it and faked an injury. He did not. The authorities decreed that all players must be vaccinated. Djokovic stated publicly that he was not going to take the vaccine. It was his choice. He was going to do what was right for his body.
He was a global superstar. Not easy to bully. Australia decided to speak to him. Under the impression he was to be let in, he set off to the country to meet with the immigration services. His private plane landed in Australia, only for him to be taken into custody. There he stayed.
While the controversy was at its height, Nadal disgracefully urged all players to take the vaccine. The other of the Big Three, Federer, refused to reveal his vaccination status at first, but then announced he was vaccinated. Abandoning the post of decency in doing so. We ‘Anti-vaxxers’ waited in trepidation. Were we about to witness another public crushing of a dissonant voice? We had seen it so often. A bold proclamation, a retreat, an apology, an explanation and then urging people to ‘take the vaccine’. Noel Gallagher, musician…a supposed rebel…being a case in point.
After hours and hours, it was communicated that Djokovic would not be allowed to compete in the Open unless he took the vaccine. He did not buckle. Australia sent him home, in front of the world’s media. Days had been spent discussing this on the media. The subject they wanted no one to think or talk about was everywhere. The Vaccinators were not able to kill the story quick enough. People were forced to consider the subject of vaccines. All the official denunciations of Djokovic sounded petty, overblown and stale. They were not landing with a segment of the public. It was a devastating blow to the narrative. His body, his choice.
Only Djokovic had held fast. Hard to do on a personal level, since if he won the Australian Open, he was the winner of the most Grand Slams in history. Immortality was at stake. This was Djokovic’s tournament too, the one in which he had triumphed most often. It was doubly hard to miss. But he did. And he was quite clear why he did: he did it in the name of medical freedom. Not the tennis authorities, not sporting bodies, not the Australian government, the global pharma-complex or even public opinion, he alone would make decisions concerning his health.
Let’s not forget the world we live in. Djokovic could have been bought off with an unimaginable sum. I’m sure a hundred million dollars would be worth it to the global-pharma-complex. He could have just said he’d taken it and had his short at glory. He was at his peak, the best player in the world, I’m sure he’d have won it. No questions asked. But Djokovic didn’t. And in so doing, he became the greatest man to ever play tennis.
It was a stunningly brave stance, and it gave hope to millions, myself included. The pro-vaccine party had everyone on their side, nearly. They had all the pop stars, the movie stars, the rock n’ rollers, the pretend rebels of culture, which included the previous three categories, as well as all the media and all the politicians. (The detestable ‘Pfizer Chiefs’, once known as the ‘Kaiser Chiefs’ were fairly typical of their pop star peers: ‘Have you all had the vaccine yet?’ the loathsome frontman shouts to an audience during a concert. ‘Yyyyyyeeeeeesssssss’, the crowd cheer back like lemmings. Disgusting. Sad.)
Yet Djokovic’s refusal to be bullied was a standout moment – millions of ordinary people had a champion. He might not be willing to lead a crusade. A crusade was not necessary; quietly, understatedly, he had simply declined. It validated dissent. It was, if not quite a full turning point, then a few degrees of inflection away from the bio-tech feudalism threatening to dominate our lives for time without foreseeable end.
The second uplift in spirits were the Canadian truckers. They mounted an incredible resistance to the Canadian government’s intent to vaccinate them. In defiance at the vaccine mandate removing their right to work unless vaccinated, they began a convoy to Ottawa, the country’s capital. Driving one brightly coloured truck after another along the black roads that cut through the Canadian snow for hundreds of mile, they were a modern-day crusade headed for the capital city.
As this caravan of freedom rolled across the white covered plains of the usually deserted Canadian tundra, incredibly, amazingly, joyously, Canadians in their thousands came out to cheer them on. Passing through the main roads of the isolated, forgotten, negligible small towns of the Canadian flats, and not only the hamlets, as they passed under bridges, railway junctions, fast-food outlets, wherever human solidarity might extend a hand, Canadian families gathered in their hundreds, holding home-made signs with Maple flags, banners draped over fences or simply waving to show their support. Many children held signs, jumping up and down in excitement, and smiling. The placards read ‘Thank You Truckers’ or had ‘Truckers’ with a love heart underneath. The heart leapt at such a display of human connection and love for freedom.
The convoy was huge, some people even said thousands of trucks, and they did not all go to Ottawa; they went to the Canadian-US border too, intending to cross over to the United States and smash the vaccine-blockade: no vaccine, no passage, had been the mandate. They were going to roll right over it.
It was impossible not to be moved or to permit defeatism to strangle the gushing spring of inspiration. The truckers drove on and on, along the black roads that threaded across the huge blank expanses of Canada, through snows, fogs and governmental threats, spurred on by cheering Canadians, eyes filled with tears of gratitude from the beaten-down and exciting admiring crowds of a hitherto hidden minority who shared their spirit.
They arrived in the capital as a wall of sound, horns blaring like some eerie adumbration of the trumpets of Revelation. The prime minister of the country had already fled, the insipid and cowardly Justin Trudeau. This was the character of the New World Order, weak people who had had it all their own way for too long and vanished at the first sign of danger. He did appear somewhere, a slightly fatter version of himself, calling for people’s rights and that order be restored. Clown in a Clown World.
The truckers took over the city centre. They were joined by thousands more who showed their opposition to the mandates. Residents grumbled. They didn’t like the noise. It was ‘fascist’. Local politicians called for ‘rights’ and tried to portray themselves as saviours. To the conforming, comfort-addicted majority, so undeserving of freedom and so lacking in courage, the truckers were hooligans. Defy them! The truckers were not for moving.
After a long stand-off over weeks, the police moved in, and broke-up the protest, impounding trucks, removing livelihoods, freezing bank accounts and stealing donations. Despite support from those like Dr Roger Hodgkinson, one of the first doctors to speak out against the Covid Hoax, the protest was over. It had probably been badly advised in some respects, probably infiltrated and it was rent apart by the pressures applied. Nonetheless, as much as World Economic Forum Chair Klaus Schwabb would congratulate Trudeau on his ‘loyalty’, it was clear his boy was a coward. They all were. They only got away with it because…so are most others.
The glorious Trucker protest was over, but for me this was the point when stopping the march of dystopia became a real possibility. They drove a truck over pretences to domination by the Global Oligarchy. Even today, when I think of it, tears come to my eyes. Let every brave heart of the present day and the future hereafter salute those truckers as kindred souls. Let their courage never be forgotten. Because if freedom survives on this planet, then, when it was more gravely in danger than ever before, when the weapons existed to permanently remove it, the Truckers rose up to defend it, and inspired the world that they could do the same. It was not the success of a collapsed government or a revolution that was required in this instance; a mass protest unifying the sentiments of all freedom-loving individuals everywhere was enough, and, to my mind, it was the greatest protest of my lifetime.
Covid was effectively done, defeated by Omicron, Djokovic and the Canadian truckers, and the ‘meaningful minorities’ in different countries who were not taking a single vaccine – seventy million in the United States, nine million in the UK, five hundred thousand in Scotland. These numbers of resistance, swelled by disillusionment, rose precipitously. Those who only took one jab or two and no more were added to the ‘unvaccinated’ totals, taking the UK total to about twenty million and in Scotland to about two million, far too many to start putting into prison camps or force vaccinating. A gargantuan number of individuals no longer believed in the Covid-hoax, or their leaders, or their government.