‘Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.’

William Butler Yeats , The Second Coming

I first heard this poem many years ago but it was just a poem then. It was written in 1919 at the beginning of the Irish War of Independence when Ireland sought to free itself from English rule. However, this was not happening in a vacuum, Europe had just been through the First World War and there was still plenty going on as you can see below.

The poem came to life for me during the years of The Troubles in Northern Ireland. This affected me directly as the Birmingham Pub Bombings took place in pubs that I frequented and I knew some of the people who were injured. During the months and years since Irish people in England have suffered the backlash.

However, it now also unfortunately springs to mind when I look at the news each morning. Things are indeed falling apart and the old order is being ushered out at a speed that would have been inconceivable even a few years ago. The USA, the largest economy in the world, is committing economic suicide in real time while Russia has proved itself to be a paper tiger and has bet everything on winning a war against a much smaller country. The smaller country is currently well ahead with Russia having to resort to using ancient hardware and conscripted soldiers after losing over a million men.

However, these two lines are the ones that, for me at least, are the key –

‘The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.’

You cannot look at the TV or social media without having some right wing loon trying to persuade you that their twisted and cruel view of the world is the way forward. Unfortunately, too many of us fall for their passion and easy answers and don’t consider where this is all heading. To hell in a handcart.

This is a phrase which I believe comes from the successive plagues that used to sweep through the world and especially the Great Plague of London in 1665. In England, the bodies of the dead would be carried to a communal grave (now called a ‘plague pit’) by the local bailiff using a handcart. As the dead had not been shrived, that is had their sins forgiven by a priest, then it was thought that most of them would be heading for hell. Thus ‘to go to hell in a handcart’ meant that the situation was as bad as it could possible get.

As for me, things are falling apart a little too. I recently came back from holiday in some pain only to discover that I had a ruptured appendix. However, the situation was vastly mitigated by the fantastic care I received while in an NHS hospital for nearly two weeks. Like the world, I am not terminal, however, whether the future is an anarchic car wreck or a bright new world is still in the balance. So what can we do?

We can only do what we can but let’s do it with conviction, let’s do it with passion.

W. B. Yeats 1865 – 1939