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You are Canada
A Tribute to the Truckers in the Freedom Convoy
Desiderantes meliorem patriam
It's been a long time since I've driven a truck or a bus. I never had a class one licence; class two with air was as far as I got, though I got across much of the continent with that and even across the North Sea and back once, in the hold of a ferry. But if I had a truck today I'd certainly join you. You are Canada.
The Canada I thought I knew, the Canada my ancestors helped settle from PEI to the Bruce Peninsula to British Columbia, seems suddenly to have vanished into the fog of covid derangement syndrome (CDS), disappearing as swiftly and spectacularly as the sun vanishing into the North Sea behind that ferry.
An alliance of the corrupt and the cowardly—many of them here with me in academia, alas, where the supposedly articulate don't even know what an "articulated lorry" is—has demanded that we all bow down to the new gods of Public Health, the gods who are destroying our country.
Those gods don't give a damn about you. To them you are just a datapoint. They mean to see, not that you are healthy, but that you yield to the number-crunching machines and data systems of the rich and powerful; that you are compliant, not merely with safety standards on the road, but even in your own body; that you move only when they tell you to move and go only where they permit you to go.
But you've got the sense to see what those who suffer CDS do not see. You know that this whole business is about money and power, and about the destruction of our freedoms. The open road is to become a thing of the past. The cash you drop on the table at a truck stop is to become a thing of the past. The future is to be all crypto (centrally-controlled crypto) and social credit. The cargo you carry won't be the only thing tracked and traced 24/7. You yourself will be tracked and traced 24/7. Your credit score will be a compliance score.
And when the rich man's robots have finally taken your job, Public Health and Sustainable Development and Global Financial Security—or some such unholy trinity—will take what's left. Their civic planners will map out your entire life and you won't like the route they have chosen or the stops they have in mind.
The Canada I thought I knew, the Canada my forebears and yours fought for in the Wars, was a country that recognized when it was at war, or must be at war. That country would have realized that, like it or not, we are now at war—not so much with a virus as with the gods of Global Technocracy, to whom our current leaders are but puppets dancing to an MSM chorus of robotic talking heads.
But these "gods" are mere men, like the rest of us. They can be fought and they must be fought. The weapons used against them, however, must be the peaceful weapons of truth and fortitude and non-violent demonstration. Civil disobedience may well be necessary, yet the weapons they deploy against us—lies and manipulation, lawless coercion in the name of law, hatred and violence of various kinds—must be firmly rejected. Their weapons are not our weapons.
As your convoys begin to converge on our national capital, which fell quietly to the technocrats some time ago, the Canada I believed in is reappearing out of the frigid mists. One of those cars you see by the side of the road, whose occupants are cheering you on to peaceful demonstration, will be mine. Some of those prayers that are ascending to the one true God for victory over violence, and over men and women who are doing violence, will be mine.
You are Canada. Vive le Canada libre!