So here we are on the cusp of gaining the “right” to alter our own birth certificates to change the sex that the midwife proclaimed when we exited our mother’s womb. Midwives? They know nothing. For millennia they have had the audacity to look between the legs of newborn babes and declare them to be boys or girls, solely on the basis of certain anatomical features.
All about transgender rights is it? No. It’s the latest in a long line of monstrous attacks on objective reality. It’s the exchanging of absolute truth, for a stinking lie. But oh how we love our lies these days. We love to tell ourselves how tolerant we are, and in our zeal to prove it, our tolerance extends to calling A B, up down, inside out, or anything else that takes our fancy in our infantile age.
A lie? That’s a bit harsh isn’t it? Well, there are a number of things on a birth certificate that are objectively true and can never be altered without offending history or nature or both. Change them and what would you call it?
Let me introduce you to Mr John Brown. John’s birth certificate says that he was born in Cambridge on 3rd September 1965. These are facts. Historical truths which you alter only if you are into falsifying facts.
He wasn’t born in Canterbury. He wasn’t born in New York. Nor Sydney. He can’t have been born in any of those places, or indeed anywhere else for that matter. And that’s because he was born in Cambridge. A = A, therefore A cannot = non A.
Ah but John doesn’t much like Cambridge you see. Doesn’t identify with it. He’s rather taken with the island of St. Lucia and would like permission to alter his birth certificate to say that he was born there.
Should we let him? It wouldn’t make much difference to you and I, would it? But it means a lot to John. He loves St. Lucia and feels like that’s where he was meant to be born. Why not let him indulge his harmless fantasy, especially as his feelings might be hurt if we don’t?
Because it’s not true, that’s why. It’s a bold, bald, barefaced lie. He wasn’t born in St. Lucia, he was born in Cambridge. Fact. Period. Get over it John.
Then there’s John’s wife, Catherine. Her birth certificate says she was born on 6th October 1967, but she doesn’t much fancy being the big 5-0. Dreads it in fact. Says she still feels mid-40s, and so she wants the right to amend her birth certificate to shave 5 years off her age. Very tempting for the state, that one. Why, the Exchequer could get another half decade of taxes out of her before she gets her pension.
So why not let her? Because it’s not true. It’s a lie. She was born in 1967 and that’s that. Fact. Period.
Harriet Young’s birth certificate says she was born to Colin and Georgina Young. The problem with that, though, is Harriet hates them. Her father was an alcoholic who abused her, and her mother cared little about her. She wishes she had had the kind of parents that some of her friends had. She’d love to expunge her own parents’ names from her birth certificate.
Should we let her? No. Why? Because it’s a lie. It’s not true. It may we’ll be a truth that she doesn’t much like, but it’s truth all the same. Fact. Period.
Ah but here comes David Grond. He was born with a penis. The midwife saw it and it caused her to proclaim “it’s a boy”. Was she in error? Was she a liar? Stupid perhaps? Or did she simply not understand just how mutable biology would come to be in the near future?
But now because David feels it’s all been a dreadful mistake and that the penis should never have been put there in the first place, instead of saying to him, “but it is, David, get used to it”, we’re going along with his make believe, and we’re going to let him change the truth for a lie on his birth certificate.
How many times should we let him do it? Once? Twice? Should we let him change his sex a couple of times a year if he really feels that way? Oh don’t be so stupid and bigoted, comes the response. We’re only going to let him change it because he now identifies as the opposite sex. It’s not going to be constant change. Ah, but in a society which now has only one constant — constant flux — you need to be at least hypothetically prepared to allow for those with Seasonably Variant Gender Dysphoria (SVGD). They feel this way in the Spring, that way in the Summer, no way in the Autumn and who knows in the Winter. Are you prepared to let them change their birth certificates whenever they feel like it? Or are you going to join the line of bigots and phobics, only a little way down the line?
And so whilst we wouldn’t dream of allowing someone to alter things as objectively true as the date on which they were born, the place where they were born, and the parents they were born to, we’re going to grant people the “right” to alter an equally objective fact at the stroke of a pen.
Why would we do this? To any sane and sober generation, it would be obvious that if there’s a tension between objective reality and subjective feelings, it’s the feelings that need to change to conform to the objective reality and not the other way around. Anything else is simply trying to bend truth to your own reality, and this does no one any favours, least of all the one insisting on the reality inversion.
If a person insists that a bull can give milk, you don’t let them go and lop off the bulls bits in order to try to prove it, do you? You point out to them that it is the cow, the one with the teats, not the bull, that gives milk. You can even demonstrate it to them objectively, if they don’t agree, and in so doing you can show that in the dispute between their feelings on the subject, and the anatomy of bulls and cows, it’s the feelings, not the bovines, that are in error.
And yet here we are, busy making subjective feelings king over objective reality. Neat idea? Not exactly. Possibly one of the worst and most self-destructive ideas humans have ever come up with. And note that it’s nothing much to do with transgenderism, as such. Those poor people caught up in this fog of confusion are just mere canon fodder on the midst of something else entirely.
What it is is simply the latest manifestation of what we’ve been living through for decades, and which is reaching its crescendo. It’s a War on Reality. An Assault on Objective Truth. It’s the Death of Meaning.
The Death of Meaning? Really? Yes really. Think again about what midwives say at each and every birth. They say it’s a boy. Or it’s a girl. But if a boy can be emasculated at a whim and the stroke of a pen, then her words are meaningless. It might be a boy, but we don’t know yet. It could be a girl, but we can’t yet be sure. We need to wait a few years to see what the “it” decides about “itself”. He words are dead words, devoid of meaning, and we might as well prohibit her by law from saying them. When will we see the first lawsuit brought against a midwife for offending the parents with her bigoted pronouncement?
In which case goodbye girls, goodbye boys. Goodbye men, goodbye women. Goodbye what it means to be a man, goodbye what it means to be a woman. And no I don’t mean that a penis maketh a man, or that a vagina maketh a woman. I mean that if we can’t state categorically that this person is a boy who will, barring an untimely death, become a man, then we cannot possibly retain any concept of what growing up into a man and being a man actually means. Likewise with the females. It’s all utterly meaningless. We are just a collection of emasculated entities who no longer know who we are, what we are, much less what we are for.
Look, if your society cannot trust a midwife to proclaim authoritatively on the identity of the baby she has just delivered; if her objectively true pronouncement can now be questioned and set aside by a person’s feelings and the stamp of officialdom, then here’s the rub: your society is toast. It’s had it.
Just stand back and watch it hurtle towards the cliff edge at an ever faster rate, since constant flux tends to develop a will of its own and has no brakes. Just watch the mad people in charge try to lull us, with all the subtlety of Wormtongue himself, into thinking that all is well and that we’re nasty extremists if we refuse to accept the new reality. Just watch as they themselves stand gobsmacked as those who take the baton from them take the agenda into places that even they would not have dared to tread or even thought possible. Idolising constant change and mutability is like that. It bites even the hand that feeds it.