Make no mistake, the Shepherd was a great man. He is no longer with us. But his spirit lives on within us. Our sheep herd grew to such lovely large proportions under the Shepherd’s watch that our wooly chests swell with pride. The meadow we graze on is the envy of grazers all over the world. We stand shoulder to shoulder and no calf is trampled by a thousand sheep feet like in some other meadow the Shepherd told us about.
Right now we have some small piece of mind since the son of the Shepherd tends to all our needs. And even so, if something is very bad, the Shepherd had assured us: “And even from my sick bed, and even when you lower me into the grave, if I feel that something is going wrong, I will get up.”
The few herd members who disappear once in a blue moon or maybe in a silver moon, half or full, don’t matter that much when we gaze at the herd as one, unified to serve all but at least the shepherd. No, you cant’ say Meeeehhhh around here, but who would want to say Meeeehhhh anyway, we all say Meeeeh and if you say Meeeeh like you should then you will have no problems here. The good sheep have no problems here and the Shepherd knows who is good. And there is a small corner anyway where you can say Meeeehhhh.
Our brains, shrunk from thousands of generations of domestication don’t register these injustices, rather we need all our mental gifts to concentrate on the grass in front of us; and that grass is green. At least our evolutionary dilemma relieves us from all responsibility and guilt, because we can’t know any better. It’s not so bad like that. It would be much worse if we still could see the wrongness, but through weak values (money!) are incapable of protesting what must be protested by anyone with decency: the criminalization of protest.
Long live the spirit of George Orwell!!!