Kortrijk, October 4
Day 71 of the March on Brussels. From Rijsel, 29 km
At Arras a shadow march was born, the so called ‘super indignados’, consisting of people who are angry with the indignados for various reasons. In the beginning there were three, Alexis and two other comrades. Yesterday we met them again in Lille, and by now their march is numbering nine participants already. I’m curious to see how many they will be in Brussels.
While we walk through the metropolitan area of Lille, comrade Roberto, my partner in Intelligence, reveals his true objective. I could have guessed what it was, but it is so obvious that I never considered it. As an ex-banker, an ex-stockbroker, and an ex-choirboy, he has infiltrated in the 15M movement to reestablish capitalism under the enlightened guidance of the pope.
“And that is only the beginning”, he says. “We will create a New World Order.” He turns around. The group follows in the distance. “Look at these people. Do you think they will make a change? Do you really believe in the revolution?” He smiles. “Come with me to the Dark Side.”
I don’t answer, I watch him, as if to say: ‘Go on.’
“As long as you leave them the illusion that they are free, it’s easy to forge people’s minds. That is what we do.”
“Who is we?”
“We are the one percent. We are the Patriarchate.”
I remember a banner that was attached to one of the metro entrances during the Acampada in Sol. ‘The Revolution will be feminist,’ it said, ‘or it will not be.’
“Before the advent of civilization”, Roberto explains, “society used to be administered by women. People were equal, and they were free. It must have been incredibly boring, and thankfully, we changed all that. First through the sword, and later through the church.” He looks at me. “Don’t you think it’s amazing that the church has managed to transform the image of woman from a reveared and honoured symbol of fertility to one of chastity and submission?”
“I’m not that enthustiastic about it.”
“Think about the implications. Once people subdue their women, they will be able to subdue mother earth as well. There are no limits to the human potential for us to exploit.”
“But what is the reason?”
“Power doesn’t need reasons. It only needs to grow.” I see a twinkle in his eyes. “We will create new humans. We will use technology. We are already doing so. In the near future man will be unable to rebel against us. We will have him consume the planet and we will force him to find ways to emigrate to other planets. Our power will spread through the universe. We will consume it all, and we will leave a desert. The Dark Side is too strong. You can’t stop us.”
At first sight Roberto seems to be a perfectly normal person. He must be joking. But the fact is that I’m not completely sure about it. To avoid the temptation of the Dark Side, I walk ahead.
We arrive at the border. I can’t believe it. Six weeks ago we entered France, and now we crossed it all on foot. Even though the only ones who walked every single leg of the way were Jesus Christ and me.
Belgium at last. It’s a ridiculous country and I will never understand it, but I’m fond of it. For a Dutchman, Belgium has something ‘exotic’. It’s slightly different. People come from a catholic tradition, they have a funny accent, and in the South they even speak another language. There is some nature as well, hills and forests, things that an artificial country like Holland doesn’t really have. On the other hand, for a Dutchman abroad, Belgium feels very familiar. It’s the combination of the two that makes it such an adorable place.
Crossing a border gives you a lot of energy. It’s like you accomplished something. You don’t worry that much about all the practical and social problems in the march any more. You put them into perspective. I did the same yesterday in Lille, when two young locals came up to me to express their admiration for what we’re doing. “We are with you. Remember that.”
They are by far not the only ones who said so. It’s always good to hear. It makes me realise that our march is much more than just a group of people walking.