We Will Not Comply .....and the Rule of Lies
In Australia. There are now over 1,850,000 Australians awake to the WEF and WHO ambitions for One Health and One World Control..
From the RGA Website:
29th. August 2024.
WASHINGTON, D.C. – Republican governors joined together today to state that they will not comply with the World Health Organization’s attempt at one world control over health policy.
Twenty-six Republican governors released a joint statement saying:
“The World Health Organization is attempting one world control over health policy with their new ‘Pandemic Agreement.’ Twenty-four Republican Governors expressed concern over this development in a joint letter in May 2024. Put simply, Republican Governors will not comply.”
Signatories include: Governor Kay Ivey (AL), Governor Mike Dunleavy (AK), Governor Sarah Sanders (AR), Governor Ron DeSantis (FL), Governor Brian Kemp (GA), Governor Brad Little (ID), Governor Eric Holcomb (IN), Governor Kim Reynolds (IA), Governor Jeff Landry (LA), Governor Tate Reeves (MS), Governor Mike Parson (MO), Governor Greg Gianforte (MT), Governor Jim Pillen (NE), Governor Joe Lombardo (NV), Governor Chris Sununu (NH), Governor Doug Burgum (ND), Governor Mike DeWine (OH), Governor Kevin Stitt (OK), Governor Henry McMaster (SC), Governor Kristi Noem (SD), Governor Bill Lee (TN), Governor Greg Abbott (TX), Governor Spencer Cox (UT), Governor Glenn Youngkin (VA), Governor Jim Justice (WV), and Governor Mark Gordon (WY).
Background on the WHO Pandemic Treaty:
In December 2021, the World Health Assembly of the WHO established an intergovernmental negotiating body (INB) to create an international instrument under the constitution of the WHO to strengthen pandemic prevention, preparedness, and response. (WHO)
The Biden Administration has been participating in negotiations with the World Health Assembly as part of the intergovernmental negotiating body, and the WHO released a second draft of the WHO Pandemic Treaty in October of 2023. (WHO)
Twenty-four Republican Governors sent a letter on this topic in May 2024, and the letter can be found here.
The Letter to President Biden:
And Kansas is going after Pfizer:
The Rule of Lies
Ian Brighthope
In a once-thriving city called Vicbourne, known for its towering universities, libraries, bustling squares, restaurants and the exchange of ideas, there lived a population that prided itself on its critical thinking. Truth and lies were like day and night—separate, distinct, and easily recognisable. But something strange began to happen, slowly at first, like the faintest whisper of wind before a storm.
The ruling class, known as the Orlabs, had grown uneasy with the vibrancy of ideas and the freedom of thought that permeated Vicbourne. The citizens, empowered with knowledge, had become harder to govern, their constant questioning and resistance to injustice wearing on the Orlabs' desire for control. So, they devised a plan—not to feed the people outright lies, but to flood them with so many conflicting stories, falsehoods, and half-truths that the very concept of truth itself would erode.
It began with small, almost imperceptible changes. One day, news spread that the river running through Vicbourne had dried up. Some claimed it was a natural drought, while others whispered that the Orlabs had diverted the waters. A third group insisted that the river was still flowing as before, and that it was all a fabrication to sow fear. Yet when people went to check the river themselves, they found conflicting evidence—some said the water was gone, others said it was flowing just fine. Each group had "proof" to back up their claim.
Soon, this confusion spread to every corner of life. The crops were said to be poisoned, yet others claimed they were thriving. Citizens could no longer tell if their neighbours were falling ill from disease or from imaginary afflictions. Debates about these contradictions raged in the streets, but no consensus could ever be reached. The more people argued, the more uncertain everything became.
The more uncertainty gripped the city, the less people dared to believe anything at all. Truth, once the bedrock of their society, had become a ghost—something intangible, unreachable. No one trusted the historians to recall the past, for their records conflicted with the Orlabs' official accounts. The present was equally unclear, for the same event could be interpreted a hundred different ways depending on who spoke of it. Even the future seemed fogged in doubt, as conflicting rumours swirled about what the Orlabs planned next.
It wasn’t that the people were being force-fed a single, grand deception. Rather, the constant barrage of contradicting information left them in a state of paralysis. They were no longer sure what to believe—whether their leaders were corrupt or benevolent, whether the economy was thriving or collapsing, whether the threats they faced were real or imagined.
And then came the greatest victory of the Orlabs: it wasn’t that the people believed the lies, but that they ceased believing in anything. With truth reduced to an arbitrary matter of opinion, the lines between right and wrong blurred. In this vacuum of certainty, morality withered. How could one know what was just or unjust when the very nature of justice was up for debate? How could one resist oppression if one couldn't be sure whether it was happening at all?
The citizens of Vicbourne, no longer able to distinguish between what was real and what was fabricated, grew indifferent. They no longer fought for justice, for they could no longer tell what justice was. They no longer spoke up against lies, for they had lost the ability to recognise them. And in that indifference, they lost something even greater—their power to think and judge for themselves.
As the years passed, the Orlabs tightened their grip, yet they faced no resistance. The people, bewildered and disoriented, were incapable of action. They no longer questioned the Orlabs' decisions, for to question required some semblance of understanding—and understanding was the very thing they had lost. The rule of lies did not need to impose itself through force; it had already won by depriving the people of their minds.
And so, with the minds of the people subdued, the Orlabs did as they wished. Decisions that once would have been met with outrage were now accepted with a quiet, resigned nod. Laws were passed that stripped the people of their freedoms, yet none protested. Resources were hoarded, and dissenters disappeared, but the people could not muster the will to care.
Vicbourne, once a beacon of knowledge and reason, had become a hollow city. Its grand libraries now stood as mere monuments to forgotten truths, its bustling squares filled with silent citizens who neither trusted nor doubted, for they had forgotten how to do both. The restaurants and coffee shops, once thronged with crowds, disappeared. The Orlabs, watching from their high towers, smiled at the success of their plan. They had not needed to convince the people of anything at all—only to drown them in confusion.
In the end, the greatest weapon of the Orlabs had been not the lie itself, but the erosion of belief. Without the ability to distinguish truth from falsehood, right from wrong, the people of Vicbourne had been conquered not by chains, but by the shattering of their own minds.
Years passed in Vicbourne, and the Orlabs solidified their rule in silence. The people, once vibrant and intellectually curious, drifted through their days in a fog. The city, though still physically intact, had lost its soul. The silence that permeated the streets was not one of peace but of resignation, a stillness born from confusion too deep to escape.
However, beneath this numb surface, a few individuals began to stir. In hidden corners of the city, far from the watchful eyes of the Orlabs, a small group began to meet. These individuals—artists, scholars, thinkers and ‘ordinary’ people who had not entirely surrendered to the confusion—recognised the state of paralysis their people had fallen into. Though they could not fully trust their own perceptions, they sensed a shared yearning for clarity and meaning. They called themselves the Acars, for they believed that somewhere within the ashes of forgotten truths, a small flame of understanding still flickered.
The Acars knew that fighting the lies head-on was impossible; there were too many, and the people were too lost to believe in any truth. Instead, they began with something simpler—restoring the very capacity to think, to ask questions, to doubt. They did not try to convince people of the truth, for they knew that no one would listen. Instead, they focused on creating small cracks in the overwhelming uncertainty that dominated every conversation and every thought.
The Acars spread subtle messages, not about facts or information, but about the act of questioning itself. They would leave riddles on the walls of buildings or whisper paradoxes into the ears of passersby. One of their favorite sayings was, “ Never ever again and forever.” Another was, “A mind clouded by confusion can still see the stars.” These seeds of doubt did not immediately bear fruit, but slowly, over time, some began to awaken from their stupor, if only slightly. People began to whisper questions again, to wonder—if only for a moment—what was real.
At first, the Orlabs did not notice. The Acars' actions were too small, too subtle. But soon, they began to detect a shift in the city's mood. The streets, though still quiet, were no longer filled with minds entirely asleep. Here and there, a citizen would pause before accepting a decree, hesitating before casting their eyes downward in resignation. This slow revival of curiosity was dangerous, and the Orlabs moved swiftly to quash it.
The Orlabs introduced new waves of contradictions, even more confusing than before. They rewrote history on a daily basis, ensuring that no one could ever settle on a single narrative. New stories emerged—about the Acars themselves. Some said the Acars were a terrorist group trying to destroy the city. Others said they were mythological, mere figments of imagination. The Orlabs even created false Acars, who spread misinformation under the guise of awakening the people. It became harder than ever to tell what was real and what was another manipulation.
But the Acars had learned from their earlier efforts. They knew they could not stop the flow of lies entirely, but they could teach the people to navigate it. They began to hold secret gatherings where they taught something aligned with truth: discernment. They taught the people to not look for certainty but to embrace doubt as a tool. To question without expecting easy answers. To live in ambiguity without surrendering to it.
"Do not fear not knowing," said Kathie, one of the Acars' leaders, at one of these hidden meetings. "Fear only the loss of your ability to question."
These teachings began to spread. The people of Vicbourne, still wary of the endless contradictions, found a new strength—not in believing any one thing, but in their ability to think critically again. They stopped seeking absolute truth and instead focused on recognising manipulation, on detecting patterns in the lies, and most importantly, on trusting their own capacity to reason.
The Orlabs, though still in control, began to feel the ground shift beneath them. Their great weapon—the flood of lies—was weakening. The people no longer needed to find the single, elusive truth. They had rediscovered something even more dangerous: their own power to think, to judge, and to resist being ruled by confusion.
The city of Vicbourne began to hum with a new kind of energy, quiet but growing. The people were not fully awake yet, but they were no longer asleep. The Acars’ work was far from done, but for the first time in many years, there was hope. Not because the people had found the truth, but because they had begun to believe in their ability to seek it once again.
And as that spark of belief in themselves grew, the Orlabs’ grip loosened, ever so slightly. The future of Vicbourne was no longer sealed, no longer bound by the rule of lies. The people, once lost in the fog of uncertainty, had begun to find their way again—not by following a clear path, but by lighting their own, flickering flames of thought in the dark.
Ian Brighthope
Thank you all. We will win.
Thank you. Thank you. It’s so encouraging. It strikes a nerve with our ‘recent’ lived experience! Wow indeed!