Politics is the chloroform of the Irish people, or rather the

Hear me, O children of the earth, for the words of Oliver St. John resonate with the wisdom of a time long past. He speaks of politics—not as the noble pursuit of justice and the welfare of the people, but as a force that dulls the spirit, that numbs the mind. To him, politics was not a path to enlightenment or empowerment, but a tool, like chloroform or hashish, that takes the people of Ireland and leads them into a state of passivity, a trance where the soul no longer seeks freedom or purpose. They are lulled by the false promises of change, sedated by the rhetoric of those who hold power, their strength sapped, their will diminished.

In the Irish heart, the call for freedom and justice has often been drowned by the intoxicating fog of political promises. The nation has long struggled under the weight of foreign rule, and the desire for self-determination burned brightly in the hearts of its people. But St. John warns that politics, as it was wielded by those in power, often served to distract the Irish from their true destiny. It was not the fight for freedom that they were drawn into, but the endless cycles of debate and distraction, which served only to dull their resolve and postpone the true awakening of the nation. The chloroform of politics sapped the clarity of their minds, while the hashish of empty promises led them into a dreamlike stupor.

Consider the history of Ireland in the days of British rule, when leaders like Daniel O'Connell sought to free the Irish people from the chains of oppression. His fight was not just against foreign domination, but against the political machinations that kept the Irish people distracted and disempowered. The dream of independence, the very essence of the Irish spirit, was constantly threatened by the distractions of politics, which divided the people and kept them from the strength of unity. O'Connell understood that true freedom would not come from endless political debate, but from the awakening of the spirit of the people themselves—a spirit too long dulled by the chloroform of politics.

This lesson, O children, remains for you as well. In the pursuit of justice, equality, and freedom, beware the intoxicating effects of politics that promise much but deliver little. The politicians speak of progress, of change, but their words are often the hashish that lulls the people into a false sense of security. They may make grand gestures, yet the true battle lies not in the halls of government, but in the hearts of the people, in the awakening of their will to shape the world for themselves.

Remember the words of St. John, for they carry the weight of ages. Politics, when misused, can be a sedative, keeping the people from their true strength, from their rightful place in the world. Do not be lulled into complacency by the distractions of political promises, but rise with clarity and purpose, knowing that true power lies not in the hands of those who speak the loudest, but in the hearts of those who dare to act. Just as the Irish fought for their freedom, so too must you guard against the numbing effects of politics and seek the true path of strength, wisdom, and justice.