Primum Non Nocere

There has to be many healthcare workers like me, who must hide their thoughts, and silence their anger. Physicians who are still incredulous that medical segregation could so swiftly find a sure footing in Canada.

Some dare call it pharmaceutical apartheid.

We are the Devastated. The Broken hearted. 

The Bewildered.

In art I seek the truth, and the courage to keep on following the wise words that Soljénitsyne addressed to those weaker souls who, like me, shamefully survive a clandestine routine that earns them a living and hides them in plain sight : "You can resolve to live your life with integrity. Let your credo be this: Let the lie come into the world. Let it even triumph. But not through me."

Having been able to find and then keep a way to earn a living  just in time to escape having to participate in the injections and the medical segregation operations that followed is both a blessing and a curse.

It has been a scary journey. It still is. Only my silence keeps me from the mob rule of those who fearfully and zealously practice the bizarre cult that used to be my beloved profession.

I might be rationalizing, but i do hope that i can walk the narrow path between the truth and the omnipresent bullshit of the propaganda. I pray that i can ask the right questions about justice, compassion and "shared decision making" (a euphemism for free and informed consent). I hope that i can rattle the cage of some dogmatic certainties in my colleagues' minds, just enough to create a few tiny fissures.

I choose to believe that Leonard Cohen is right when he says:

"Forget your perfect offering 

There is a crack, a crack in everything 

That's how the light gets in."

Now i feel less alone, because of some brave independent artists and journalists who speak up, like Bob Moran, Five Times August and Trish Wood. They create a clear vision of the evil that i fear and do not want to submit to. They also paint  beautiful pictures of the loving world that i want to help rebuild, for my family, for myself, for my friends... for my neighbour.

But before we get there, there will need to be justice. For people to stop being afraid to look at the reality of the lives they ruin when they go along to get along, they need to be even more afraid of finding themselves with their bare name and soul on on the wall, on the wrong side of history. "I am just doing my job" cannot protect you from your conscience... as long as you still have one.

But how will we find justice? Where?

So many Canadian judges have decades ago lazily given up on doing the right thing. They sit on their cozy benches, they mechanically "apply the law" and avoid rocking the boat by taking cowardly "judicial notices" of any government propaganda that is thrown their way. After hours, sipping wine, they laugh and dare say that their job is not about justice, it's only about law.

Slaves to power, prestige and money.

Artists! Please don't stop painting! Scream new songs recorded in your apartments! Sing and dance for those of us who feel so cold and isolated. Speak to us, independent journalists! Keep waking us, the weaker souls who are hoping to stop the machine from inside, the clandestine, anonymous workers who try to walk with the truth, daily diving deep into the shadow and silence.

Help us find the courage to first do no harm.