Community, Identity, Stability.
Clearly, Aldous Huxley had the gift of foresight whilst penning Brave New World, a vision of dystopia bottled in a lab. True, the test-tube created Alphas, Deltas and Gammas pray to the founder of their commerce-centric society, but in our Brave New Toronto, the term “Our Ford” means something entirely different.
Our Ford did not invent the Model T. Our Ford, though he would proclaim his operations as for the good of Society, does not subscribe to the adage “A gramme is better than a damn”… unless of course it’s a gramme of crack.
What’s more, our Ford has returned to his seat in Toronto’s city council chamber. This is an unpleasant fact, I know… but then most historical facts are unpleasant. He’s a slimmer, more focussed, less racist, cleaner version of the Mayor that left us for rehab not so long ago, but he’s still adamantly Alpha, fixated on making Torontonians accept their inescapable social destiny. As Huxley put it, fordliness is next to godliness.
Alas, as Deltas and Epsilons of Brave New World will attest, there is no point in bemoaning our lot in life. It’s best to accept, and perhaps even celebrate, what is inevitable. Torontonians will be faced with a choice in the Fall, and nobody can claim they don’t have the facts. Whatever we choose, we bloody deserve.
And so, for the coming months, as Our Ford takes his seat in the Chamber amongst the other 43 councillors, we should offer up this plea to his Worship:
Ford, we are 44, oh make us one,
Like drops within the Don River;
Oh, make us now together run
As swiftly as thy wilting liver.
Come, Greater Being, Social Friend,
We long to die, for when we end,
Our larger life has but begun.