The Desert

A Solid Man. One who is finds no satisfaction in those that are not. ’Tis a pitiable eminence that is not well founded. Not all are men that seem to be so. Some are sources of deceit; impregnated by chimeras they give birth to impositions. Others are like them so far that they take more pleasure in a lie, because it promises much, than in the truth, because it performs little. But in the end these caprices come to a bad end, for they have no solid foundation. Only Truth can give true reputation: only reality can be of real profit. One deceit needs many others, and so the whole house is built in the air and must soon come to the ground. Unfounded things never reach old age. They promise too much to be much trusted, just as that cannot be true which proves too much.

Baltasar Gracián - The Art of Worldly Wisdom (1647)


One deceit needs many others, and so the whole house is built in the air and must soon come to the ground. This is the slippery slope which so many moral lessons have taught but we still pretend it isn’t a slope and it isn’t slippery.

They promise too much to be much trusted, just as that cannot be true which proves too much. Climate change long-term forecasts promise too much to be trusted. A settled science cannot be true as it proves too much. The lessons are not new.

But in the end these caprices come to a bad end, for they have no solid foundation. Political caprices such as… oh I don’t know… wind turbines as replacements for Russian gas perhaps. Gender politics as a replacement for human biology.

Unreality is a desert. The great spark of life, the marvellously infinite cascade of reasons why things are as they are – all is absent. It is not even akin to a deserted village where weeds gradually choke the streets and a chill wind moans around crumbling walls and broken windows. Not even that, but a desert where nothing well-founded can grow and Unfounded things never reach old age.