The art or madness in following leaders

The news on the Irish hierarchical church is relentless. It has become somewhat like dashing down a hill with people on both side hurling stones at you. They never stop, they keep coming, in all forms and shapes.

What must it have been like west of Stalingrad on December 24 1943? The German troops, starving, dying, wounded, still managed to decorate their trenches with Christmas things - the few things they had left. They, at least the sensible ones, knew it was all over. They were surrounded. In 21/22 days time they would be prisoners of war.

Some days earlier, Paulus, or at least some high ranking officer at command HQ on the steppes, wrote a note to Hitler assuring him of the loyalty of the Sixth Army and the bravery of the troops. The soldiers were experiencing minus 38 degrees Celsius. They were filthy, covered in lice, few clothes and little or no ammunition.

But for Zhukov, Hitler may well have had his way. The discipline, intelligence, dedication and ruthlessness of Zhukov in everything he did between the Don and the Volga paid off. And he had to deal with Stalin. The Soviet Army was cruel, cruel to its soldiers. No mercy was ever shown. It was brutal and violet.

Hitler brought them to this place, on the banks of the Volga. Millions followed his madness. What is it about people who hand over their minds and hearts to absurd and ridiculous systems?

Why do we give such authority to people?

This is the season of bishop bashing and it is probably unwise to join in the melee. But anyone who looks back in Ireland since the foundation of the State has to ask why did the Irish people give these men such power. It was absurd, probably sinful.
Why did I not stand up in public and demand an apology from Archbishop McQuaid the day he 'savaged' my hair?

Yes, I laughed at some of them behind their backs and spoke out about them in a quasi public manner but I too was afraid. It's so easy to say we are children of our generation.