Once upon a time, ideas had weight. People would stand behind an idea, and if necessary, risk being alone for the sake of that idea. Now times have changed. Ideas are no longer like stones; they are like water. It bends according to the shape of the container and flows according to the direction of power.
And the most skillful people of this age are those who have no backbone.
Because the spine requires standing upright. A person who stands upright runs the risk of breaking in a storm. But those who bend survive. Those who turn wherever the wind blows are sitting in the safest harbors of politics today.
Ideas no longer compete in the squares of the country; masks are circulating.
Faces painted in a different color yesterday are marching under different slogans today. Hands that raised their fists in anger yesterday shake hands at the same table today. Words have lost their meaning, concepts have lost their soul. The so-called “cause” has faded like an old photograph that often remains only on election posters.
Because when individual interest overrides social conscience, politics ceases to be a pursuit of ideals and turns into a big market.
Everyone has a price in that market.
Some keep silent for office, some applaud for tenders, some change their minds according to the direction of the crowd. And in the end, society begins to follow the best pretenders, not the truth. At such times, honest people look like a relic from an ancient age. The unprincipled are praised as “realistic”.
But this is where the decay begins.
It takes a long time to fell a tree with an axe, but when a worm gets into its roots, the tree will one day collapse under its own weight. Societies are like that. From the outside they appear to be still standing; flags fly, squares fill, speeches are made... But inside, an invisible decay grows. Trust diminishes. Faith diminishes. People start looking at each other's accounts, not each other's word.
And in the end everyone looks alike.
The politician becomes the people and the people become the politician.
As more and more people change sides according to the direction of the wind, people who stand still become strange. Because in this age, character is like a heavy burden that is often unwilling to be carried. The lighter ones rise faster.
But one thing is forgotten:
Windmills are always spinning... but they never set a direction.
Those who determine the direction are the ones who do not move despite the storm. History remembers not the men of every era, but the people who remained the same despite every era.