while i encourage each of you to post again, please let it be clear: post better.
glubb traveled the world, yet never left the british empire. he star gazed under different hemispheres, yet never charted the stars. he looked through a mesmerizing kaleidoscope, yet never attempted to look away and into his self.
you have to understand, glubb, like most of the service men of his era, were overwhelmed by the information overload, didn't linger to sort it all out, and lived in a world of endless christmas spotted by sporadic glimpses into poverty of wealth, but never family or sons. he may have seen horrors, but i doubt he saw england wall to wall with the very arabics he parented over – the very arabics who, by his own book's testament, weren't always there.
take a kitten and a puppy, raise them together, they won't kill each other, much less ever realize what the each and other is. conversely, raise them together after a year, and they will always know. there is a moment when you become an adult, and if you are subverted before this point, you, like all children, must seek acceptance from your overlords, seek to imitate them and gain their approval, they who hold your bread and butter.
glubb didn't have to grow up. i don't think many will have the opportunity, regardless.
men in the service of any one but their prosperity for –their– progenitor titles, forced to sink or float on themselves alone, should always be suspect that at least one or more entire path-trees of cognitive development have been stunted at the root. the tree in that direction was simply never needed to be mapped.
in so many words, horse blinders are a thing. and they work. until the horse needs to pull it's own cart, instead of the farmer's. after paradise runs out, there's no more ink and paper or time to carve monuments to log the lesson to memory.
