Welcome To The Real Battlefront

Michael Gray Griffith , Cafe Locked Out

When I bring up the belief that we are under attack from a weapon called Disillusionment, people say “a war of attrition,” but I think the two are different.
There is no perceived war now. We have no political leaders who are constantly emitting crazy meme quotes. There are no lockdowns, no vaccine passports, no police attacking us in the streets for not wearing a mask.

The majority appear to be seeing the Covid years as a series of unfortunate events, beyond their ability to control, so therefore, the only responsibility they had was to endure it. Which they did, and that’s why they don’t even feel the need to talk about it.
In fact, if they weren’t injured or killed by the juice, and managed to keep their job and their house, then conceivably, in this war, they might see themselves as the winners.
We might still be out here, banging on about the truth, mentioning spiritual war, because we still believe that one truth, one irrefutable golden fact, would see everything change for the better. But what if the reason we haven’t been able to find that fact is because that truth is right in front of our face, and has been all along? We just don’t want to see it.
Robert Roach approached his council in Murray Bridge with the Port Hedland DNA challenge. He found one councillor to table it, another to second it, but as he was approaching another, she said, even though she could see he was right, she didn’t want to be seen as an ‘antivaxxer.’
Status.
We’ve just spent half a decade nobly fighting for the truth, but what if all the majority wanted was what we lost by defying the Government—Status. Something we simply can’t offer them, because, in their eyes, we have none.
In our tribe, Status is caustic too—the source of our jealousy and infighting. There’s a snobbery aspect when it comes to some groups and individuals over others.
And whilst this might just be human nature, despite our best intentions, our craving for status is eroding what was initially our greatest asset and/or weapon: unity.
Freedom warriors mention viral vids as though they mean something to the greater struggle, when in fact, they’re just a short shot of status. Like scoring a good goal in a game that’s already been forgotten before the final whistle blows. No matter how many shares or likes, it only means something, briefly, to those already present in our echo chamber.
Still, at least online, we bang on —or we did—about defending our freedoms, yet no one has been able to quantify freedom into a t-shirt slogan.
Freedom, what is it?
You have thirty seconds to tell me. Here, take a minute and keep it under ten words.

The True Battleground, on which, despite all our now proven truths and their injuries and deaths, they are winning, is Status.
And no one clarified this better than Dan Andrews when he said Victoria was now a vaccine economy. You are in with them, or you are a leper.
So, against their inner voices, many people simply did what their leader told them to do. Why?
For an easier life, to get a better job, to secure a promotion, more money, more benefits, or simply, via whatever job they were doing, to keep their sense of identity... Status.

“What do you do?” is a question many men face when participating in conversations with new people, with everyone knowing that the direction the conversation will take next depends on their answer. Saying you are a doctor will always receive a different response to stating you are a delivery driver.
We also know that for the last few years, doctors and nurses have been inundated with vaccine-injured patients. But do they go public about it? No. Therefore, they are protecting something—something more precious to them than the justice they must know is owed to their injured brothers and sisters... Status.
If they defend the injured, they could lose their job.
The only defiance I hear is when I’ve heard of nurses saying they took two to keep their job, but they won’t take any more. Lying to their jabbed, injured patients. Telling them their pain isn’t real and that they are just suffering from anxiety is an affordable price if it comes with the benefit of retaining their status. But another jab might see them become one of these injured folk—these invisible people—so their craving for status now faces a challenger: their survival instinct.
We used to call this cognitive dissonance, but is it?
What if we are the ones suffering from that? Trapped by a belief that the majority of people are just confused, and once they see our truth, their nobility will kick in and they will join us.
But no one is joining us.
All over the country, the tribe’s various groups are shrinking and aging. Many have slipped back into society, living lives where they stay silent in the presence of the communal lies, and when they can’t take it anymore, they seek us out and feed their starving souls with truth, before returning to the lies, where sadly the money they need to live, is.
Not that we will ever be fully in. Novak Djokovic is a perfect example. The world’s number one, whose very existence proved that the vaccine wasn’t necessary, was locked up with illegal immigrants, and the majority of his people—the Serbians—did not protest this.
For all his aces and victories, in the eyes of our overlords, he’s just an anti-vaxxer.
And that is the key. It’s not a question of whether it works or not, or whether it’s safe or dangerous. It’s simply a fact of: Did you take it or not? And if so, how many?
Not so much an existential crisis, but rather a simple case of pecking-order business.
In their time on the planet, most of us have had bosses. Those, the majority, who don’t have the inclination, drive, or whatever else is required to become a boss, know that, whilst we reserve the right to gripe and moan, eventually we will do as we are told, for that’s how it works.

Think back to Koshi asking us all what we were going to do with our family and friends who wouldn’t get jabbed. The condescension in his tone was perfect, and standing in his suit, like a priest, it all worked together to convince most Australians, that if they wanted to retain their status as good citizens, they would have to cast out the ones they loved who weren’t being obedient.

And so they did.
Why?
Status.
Status means so much to some people, that even when they are visibly injured by the vaccine, they defend it. A politician who suffered Bell’s palsy from the first shot wore an eye patch and gave us the thumbs up as he sold us the second shot. “It’s safe and effective,” he said, with slurred speech and only half a face working. He has since vanished.
Most families of those killed by the jab refuse to mention the possibility that it was the vaccine, because what will people think? What they need to do, amidst the grief, is retain their status. It appears that being seen by their neighbors as a relatively good person is worth more to them than fighting for the justice that their lost loved one deserves.
Parents who have lost children or had them injured—not just by Covid jabs, but by other jabs—also try to keep their pain and frustration in-house.
What we expected, as people started getting sick and dying—just like we knew they would—was that people would suddenly rise up, and driven by grief, demand justice. They didn’t. In most cases, the victims and their loved ones were quickly cremated, allowing the ripples of their socially acceptable grieving to smooth back to a precious, socially acceptable status.
Is there a vacuum inside of these people? A growing void that status can’t fill?
Maybe. Who knows. Only them.
Most of us are black sheep.
We don’t do herds.
We have a conviction that can stand alone, though it’s easier to stand with allies.
Allies that are vanishing.
What if another truth is that we, as a society, have split?
Our side bequeaths status based on a person’s action and integrity, they base status on action and compliance.

Or so I thought, until I was asked to attend a church service.
It was a new church being celebrated in a conference room, for the congregation didn’t have a church. And the room was full. There were people there of all different ages and races. I saw lots of young men, powerful lads with sleeve tattoos and searching, penitent faces. I saw families with adored children. I saw hope.
The Shrines of Australia were meant, we thought, to have great symbolic significance, but when tyranny pepper sprayed its way into our lives, we discovered that their significance was expendable, as were the sacrifices of the people they were erected to honour.
But this crucifix, that was to commemorate the brutal murder of a man who, according to the Bible, rose above the worst of our nature and death itself, reminds us that we are always at war. That good and evil are omnipresent, and others use the choices we make in life—good choices or evil choices—to define us.
And this was the genius.
Somehow, they made the decision not to take the vaccine as a weak choice, a self-centered choice, a bad person’s choice. A status-destroying decision. And this genius was made possible by the gradual erosion of God in our lives.
Or as Sun Tzu quoted in The Art of War:
“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”
Make no mistake, while it might feel like a lull, or even like it’s all over, the truth is you are under attack now.
Fear, the enemy's initial weapon, has long lost its teeth. But their second weapon, disillusionment, is currently crushing us.
If we don’t realize this and develop strategies to defend ourselves against it, then we will fail; vanish into history as significant as the Edelweiss Pirates. Google them.
Perhaps the key lies in self-evaluation.
What is it that we actually want?
What is it we are actually selling?
What is our destination?
If we don’t have one, how do we set out toward it, or know when we have arrived?
What if, within the shadow of this small church’s crucifix, are the clues?
Jesus is dead. He has no Instagram account, no profile on X, and yet here he is pulling a crowd, even if that crowd has stripped away all the trimmings of the larger churches.
Whatever it was that Jesus was selling, his message still works.
Is it our message too?
We always go on about our souls. And this mass I attended was about people celebrating something greater than themselves, and doing so together.
And I couldn’t pick up, as I studied them all, a hunger for status.
Maybe they’d left that outside the door, or in their car.
They were here to suckle on something else—something that status couldn’t give them.
Whatever it was, it was clearly wrapped in hope.
For afterwards, I watched them shaking hands, hugging, and blessing each other.
And I’d seen that joy somewhere else—Camp Epic.
Where, with our status removed, us lepers created a moment of pure human beauty, the memory of which still leaves goosebumps on the arms of those who were there.

What was that?
If we can discern it, maybe that is what we should be offering to the world:
Moments of human beauty, where strangers, simply by their smiles, hugs, and generosity, can fill you with a worth, that you only attain by turning up and being you.
The others, I believe, these victors, are heading deeper into the loneliest parts of themselves.
They will continue to display a pleasant, apathetic expression to the world, designed to keep them safe as the scrutiny grows, but inside their souls, like Anne Frank without company, they will ride their way through life as backseat passengers, until death frees them.
Can we reach in now, and pull them out?
No.
So since we are still here, what should we do?
I suggest we get busy living—creating businesses, employing each other, creating commerce, cementing our traditions, like Epic, celebrating our folk heroes like Dr. Oosterhuis, Dr. Billy Bay, and Nick Patterson, etc.
Slowly, ever so slowly, why don’t we become the alternative society, where you can find status simply by living up to, or growing into, the greater aspect of yourself.
For now, we don’t have the resources to create a true alternative society, but look at us from a longer perspective.
Unless you want to spend your life losing who you are under their communal lies, what choice do you have other than to start building something better?
Basically, I would argue that the organic growth stage of our movement has come to an end, and now we have a choice:
Give up, or grow up.
And if you choose to grow up, then the first step is evaluation.
What have we done, in these past five years, that has worked or is working? What isn’t working, and why? What do we believe in? What do we want? And what do we have to offer to the poor soul who finally flees from their grip and ends up knocking on our door?
Perhaps, if we do this, we will become who I feel we have the possibility to be:
The foundation builders for a community far more conducive to our human souls.