Shall we call this brief pamphlet a weekend read? I would love to wax hypothetical for a fun moment, provided my imagination takes my phantasy far enough to get the reader pleasurably involved in the development of this bizarre design. Let’s assume for a second that Georgia is a monarchy. Not a semi-monarchy like a constitutional one, but a real McCoy kingdom, like one of those historically renowned countries, ruled by a king or queen. In the role of sovereign, I would love to advocate for a female ruler, seeing as Sakartvelo has healthy glowing memories of the faraway medieval past, when the nation enjoyed the brilliant reign of its adorable Queen Tamar, in what we call Georgia’s Golden Age. I wish that proud past could recur for a sacred instant, but alas!
So, we are living in a monarchy, and we have a crowned head, utterly in love with her domain and people, who would do no harm to any person in her realm without having the gravest reason to do so. She is the ultimate decision-maker and indisputable steward of the land. We, the people, work hard, make honest money and pay taxes to keep the distinguished lady in place and functional. The more efficient she is, the better for the nation. The wiser she is, the stronger are the people- the creators of their own wealth and happiness. The fields are farmed and the food is hoarded; some go out to hunt for food, and others rear the kids; horses are trained to run and labor, cattle is salubrious and productive; culprits are punished and heroes are praised, and this is all taken care of and executed by the rule of law, placed in the caring hands of that professional sage of a ruler and overseen by the royal court of justice – as pristine and elevated as one could wish for in the time this story is being told and listened to.
Nobody is obligated to hit the polling stations as often as is demanded by the forceful fiats thereof. People do not discuss elections interminably, foaming at the mouth in favor of weird political powers, or odd individuals, who have, by some hook or crook, reached a certain conventional peak to be put at the helm of the nation. Folks don’t hear deafening electoral advertising round the clock, trying to talk them into making choices without any vestige of knowledge as to whether the presented candidates will be beneficial or detrimental to their everyday reality, something which the Queen’s subjects can achieve without the control and assistance of those funny electoral wannabes.
No bluffing TV sets, no loaded beepers and no poisoned cell phones. The menacing informational avalanche threatens no-one to be swept away or buried. The urban rattle and clatter are not heard at all, and the social networks currently getting on the remnants of our shattered nerves, are nonexistent. Food is organic and the ceaselessly running drinkable water is naturally pure. Nobody cares about covid vaccinations, and plastic bags do not get whipped by the polluted wind to fly through our paved streets.
And when one of the old squares in Tiflis is filled with crowds of Georgia’s felicitous citizens, the radiant beauty of the Queen illuminates the place, and the noble monarch greets the joyfully exalted realm, and lets them hear her pleasing voice, full of courage and hope that the impending night will turn into happy daybreak; that life truly has value.
Blog by Nugzar B. Ruhadze
