The headlines tell a story of recovery, of Ebola survivors returning to the epicentre of an outbreak that has claimed thousands, aided by British medical teams. But let us not be seduced by this narrative of progress. This is not a tale of triumph; it is a footnote in the long, slow decline of Western civilisation.
We have seen this before: the Victorian era’s hubris, the fall of Rome’s futile gestures. Here, in the heart of Africa, we play the role of the benevolent imperialist, patching up wounds while the empire crumbles at home. The real news is not the survivors’ return, but the intellectual decadence that allows us to focus on a single disease while ignoring the systemic rot: the collapse of borders, the rise of tribalism, the erosion of national identity.
British medics do noble work, yes, but they are firemen in a burning house. The outbreak is a symptom, not the disease. The disease is our collective amnesia, our failure to learn from history.
We medicate the body while the soul withers. So celebrate the survivors if you must, but do not mistake a bandage for a cure. The fall of Rome was not a single event; it was a thousand small surrenders.
This is one of them.
