The realization that an interlocutor is seeking to implicate one in a “divide and rule” scenario and so exploit one’s disagreements with another “player” in order to secure mastery over both parties is a sure killer of trust but is also a perennial reality not only in politics but in life generally.
Opposition to doing it is prevalent in religious ideology not only of Christianity but of many other religions also. Admittedly not all religions. It is is sometimes said that hypocrisy is inherent in the religious reflex and this is true enough not to be useless as a rule of thumb.
26th January 2028 marks the 200th anniversary of the founding of the modern Greek state, in Aegina, Greece, and the 240th anniversary of the beginnings of “Western civilization” in what is now called Australia and was then (and is still today) called New South Wales, with the establishment of a British penal colony at Port Jackson, today’s Sydney.
The date is controversial (and accordingly challenged) in both countries but also defended by a section of the relevant populations in the name of upholding “national sovereignty”.
The challenge takes the form in one instance of mobilization of crowds of hostile antagonists demonstrating in a variety of legal and illegal ways, and in the other through neglect, of historic buildings and monuments and the encouragement of apathy and cynicism.
One case involves the evolution of a prison into a new modern country, the other the evolution of a new modern country into a prison (to some extent actually and not just rhetorically).
Here is a flash of relevant insight:
From Shelley Dark’s “Son of Hydra”, p. 382
“I have news of Greece,” says Ando. “From the newspapers. Would you like to hear?”
“You know I would!” I lift my voice.
“You know the new Greek king is a Bavarian – a Roman Catholic? His taxes are higher than the Sultan’s and the foreign debts remain. It’s a disaster – no constitution, no democracy. They sentenced our Hydriot war heroes to death and only pardoned them under pressure.”
Damos says, “Didn’t you hear that Ghikas’ friend, Spryidon Trikoupis, is petitioning the English king to pardon men who fought in the revolution?”
Bitterness heats my face. (thinks Ghikas) “He had a chance to do something when we were in Malta. He’s forgotten we exist.”
Ando continues. “Well, they shifted the government to Athens, still in rubble. And they speak French instead of Greek. They wear Western dress.”
I struggle to picture this. “Hydra is in a worse position than before the war.”
I place my mug on the table. “So, Ando, are you still Greek?”
“Even if I were to be given a pardon, Ghika, I will stay in New South Wales. I sell my first crop of wheat this year. One day I will buy my own land.”