It was never about science. It never will be. We may as well carve that truth into stone and set it at the gates of this collapsing carnival we call civilization: the alarmist cult is not, and never will be, swayed by fact. Data rolls off them like rain off an oil-slicked duck. You could drown them in charts and videos until their eyeballs liquefy, and the needle would not twitch a millimeter.
When I was a child, Europe was crawling with ideological vermin dressed as liberators. The Red Brigades, the Baader-Meinhof gang, a rogues’ gallery of communist zealots scattered across the continent—bloody apostles who considered civilian corpses an acceptable footnote to their gospel. You could not reason with them; logic was no more use than a feather against a guillotine. Their rampage ended not with dialogue, but with prison bars and bullet holes.
Islamist fanatics sang the same hymn, and the world learned—still learns—the bloody verses, again and again.
And now we are expected to bow before the climate inquisitors. These aren’t mere protestors in hemp sandals—they are firebugs with apocalyptic ambitions. They would rather watch the world turned to cinder and ash than yield a single inch to reality. They demand not compromise, not persuasion, but obedience. And they will accept nothing else.This will not be a polite seminar, nor a debate at Oxford. It will be a fight, a nasty one, as all battles against true believers always are.