The images are electric. Tear gas hangs over Biarritz. French police lock shields with black-clad protesters.
The G7 circus has come to town, and with it, the predictable theatre of rage. But let us not mistake this for a crisis of democracy. This is the dying gasp of the 1960s counterculture, reanimated without purpose or dignity.
The G7 is not a cabal. It is a bureaucratic exercise, a colloquium for the powerful to nod agreeably while the world burns. The real story is not the broken windows.
It is the hollowing out of the Western soul. We have replaced faith with protest. We have replaced patriotism with performance.
The British diplomatic security, unmatched as it is, merely guards an empty throne. The elite have no enemies left, only inconveniences. And these protesters, in their jackbooted nostalgia, are the court jesters of decline.
They rage against a machine that has already stopped working. The fall of Rome was not marked by barbarians at the gate. It was marked by a people who no longer believed in their own empire.
Look at Biarritz. Look at the void. Then, please, look yourself in the mirror.
