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We woke up this morning to the news that Donald Trump was elected president. Across the internet, there was a sense of panic and disbelief. For those of us here in Northern Greece, the news felt somehow less shocking. In the last year or so I have felt unsettled. I don’t recall when or how it started but it has crept up insidiously into a palpable sense of dread.

In my short lifetime, the world has not known a day of Peace. Always there has been violence and war, and societal fear has waxed and waned as tensions have shifted. Yet, this feels different. There is a sense of something building…

And it’s not just me. I met with Rachel and Emma over breakfast today before Emma flew home and was no longer on the ground here to guide me. At a little french cafe by the sea front, we made small talk before the in-depth planning and discussion of my role here. The events over in America were naturally brought up. Each of us expressed surprise but there was no collective reaction of shock. In a year of unpredicted political decisions, the election result seemed somehow inevitable.

And as I sat there with a small cup of bitter hot chocolate, they both related that impending sense of fear that had become so familiar to me. Rachel noticed it first with the riots and rebellions in Libya and Egypt. I had remarked upon it at around the same time. It had perhaps felt strangest to me then. By now, this fear was my companion. Always there in the background. Silent but acknowledged.

The world seems to feel it too. Slowly, steadily the fear has grown and expressed itself in xenophobia, prejudice, and hate. Communities are segregating themselves and turning inwards for shelter. The media and those on the political stage are parroting rhetoric sickeningly similar to the words of their late 1930s counterparts. The public, desperate for comfort, are swallowing it without question.

The scapegoats have been chosen.

They have been systematically dehumanized to make it easier for us to ignore when the time comes. Of course, it has already come – there have been reports of brutality across social media. To paraphrase Gil Scott-Heron ‘it will not be televised’. It will not reach you at home, sheltering from the unseen storm deep down you know is coming.

We are on the edge of something. Something just out of my line of sight. I do not yet know its face. But I know it. I know it is a terrible thing.

Or perhaps for this little western girl who has been safe and sheltered on a small island in the Atlantic…

Perhaps, the wars are just getting closer.

 

The title is taken from Rudyard Kipling’s poem ‘How fear came.’  Gil Scott-Heron’s ‘The revolution will not be televised ‘ is also referred to in this post. 

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