[DC-R://0109 - Realside Beacon - Augma03]
[Outgoing Address: [DATA UNAVAILABLE]
[Ingoing Address: [DATA UNAVAILABLE]
-RE: 'Our Chances'
[background=I do not know. It’s hard knowing what needs to be said, where it comes to the Mando’ade, to its culture, and where it’s futures might be potentially heading.[/size]
[background=For myself, it’s becoming glaringly obvious the Mando’ade need to evolve to adapt to their strained sense of community, or die. …And maybe the Mando’ade should die. Perhaps after all this time, it’s something we deserve. Do you believe I don’t know what I’m talking about? You are more than likely. I’ve always been on the outside looking in. I’m not inculcated in all the nuances of the ‘interior’ culture yet. I’m working on it, coming in from the cold. But if the last twenty years are anything to go by? And what I’ve seen previously, from first-hand accounts from those surviving?[/size]
[background=There’s obsession and misunderstanding surrounding tenets of honour. The only way an honour-bound culture revolving around martial prowess works is if there’s mutual and strict protocol regarding respect. But we Mando’ade are loud, undisciplined, cocksure arrogant, and predisposed to destruction at the slightest [background=idea that our sense of personal renown is somehow besmirched. Nothing will last because we’ll never allow something 'to'[background= last.[/size]
[background=I know there’s a divide between the romanticized ideals of our culture, and how it actually plays out. I remember someone voiced a sentiment that we’re folk fired up by a want to challenge the unknown, a zest for life, hellraisers and characters that don’t fit in anywhere else. …So where is it? Tell me where the great crusades are happening. The ventures and journeys. Where’s this ‘zest’? The only time Mandalorians get fired up is when someone crawls out of the woodwork to declare for leadership and suddenly everyone’s racing for the nearest pulpit. Talk always springs up about unity and then go nowhere. The well briefly fills every time there’s a hint of war and inevitably runs dry within a few months. A month. Sometimes, less than that.[/size]
[background=Mandalorian unification thrives on the concept of a cultural enemy. The tenets of the Resol’nare, the Supercommando Codex, the efforts of the Death Watch, even the language hinges on the idea of ourselves under perpetual siege requiring instruction on how to survive. Without a given enemy, without a heavily beaten-in idea that everyone and everything is auretii, the muzzle-focused aggression and martial tradition loses traction. The pack falls in on itself. Initiative and inspiration die because, what else is there to do except war? The only warriors to transcend that inevitable backstep are the ones that invest in something beyond conquest and violence-sating. Inevitably, they face accusations of straying from the mould. Words like ‘Dar’manda’ and ‘untrue’ begin filtering through. The effort of living switches from the struggle itself to battling an unending rotation of accusations.[/size]
[background=Being Mandalorian is almost self-defeating. It’s an ethos meant to stand apart yet only seems to derive definition and function when paired against opposing forces. For all the talk of empires, unity, and cohesive social ability? Few are prepared to engage the reality of everyday existence. Glory and worth are instead measure in scalps and heads taken. Scions of the Resol’nare are a handful of emotionally and mentally unstable sociopaths. And we lack, almost as a whole, any ability to understand or reflect on actions that have drawn negative repercussions. On top of it all… Is the ever-present allure of ultimate ‘Mando-ism’.[/size]
[background=Every fighter wants to be Mand’alor, at one point or another. But, so it goes, in everyone else’s opinion, no one’s worthy of it. The role of Mand’alor, its ultimate function in our society, what powers and authority it’s granted, is another endless rote of debate. For many, it’s the emblem of ultimate distinction, earned through worthy deeds and charisma. The voice and face of their cultural spirit. Whomever is elected or takes the position faces an endless gamut of issues. From demands of direction and purpose to fending off claimants that are looking for a chance to quickly climb the social order and emerge on top. Mand’alor is perhaps the greatest role anyone with great vanity and self-centredness can take hold of. You[background= become the people. For isn’t every Mandalorian’s Mandalorian the Mand’alor?[/size]
[background=Couple that with standing fears of pollution. The greatest hypocrisy is the adaptability of the Resol’nare code: simple, robust, that anyone can embrace. Unless you’re a Force User. That’s simply too much. Who should let you have that unstable power? Now, help me into a multi-million-dollar war-suit built and re-forged out of an indestructible substance handed down through the generations of my clan. Oh, and don’t mind the selection, the nepotism, the double-standards. Or the Old Man’s club, the sexism. Don’t be troubled by graying veterans scratching their balls through beskar codpieces and nestled up to foaming tihaar tankards, bemoaning the ‘old days’ and bragging about how it’s time, once more, for them to show the new generation a thing or too.[/size]
[background=Except they can’t. A given lesson in ‘Mandoism’ is another collection of condescending platitudes. A scream into the void trying to preserve faltering ideals of robust masculinity that are anything but. Useless gatekeepers that stand guard over the road to anything resembling progress or even a sense of flailing forward momentum. We’re a culture of static ‘adaptation’. The only thing that changes is the armoury. The nature of growth and activity is consigned to a reliable time table mapped out to the day, with all the known acts, the tempo and cadence.[/size]
[background=I’m not angry that it’s predictable. We made it that way. I’m just frustrated at how condensed our options are. How unwilling attitudes are to try or allow or accept or just tolerate something new to formula. They say if it’s not broken, don’t fix it. But all the materials we’ve built on are just iron mixed with clay. An unstable foundation sunk into a sandbar.[/size]
[background=…Is it time for the Mandalorians to die?[/size]
[background=You ask me?[/size]