WHEN THE AXE BECOMES ONE OF US

The danger of confusing familiarity with loyalty

The forest was shrinking, yet the trees continued voting for the axe.

It was a peculiar arrangement. The very instrument responsible for their disappearance had earned their confidence because its handle was made of wood. The trees recognised something familiar in it. Perhaps they saw a resemblance and assumed a shared interest.

But the axe had a purpose that its wooden handle could not change.

And so, while the trees continued to embrace what appeared familiar, the forest continued to shrink.

There is something profoundly uncomfortable about this illustration. It invites us to examine a human tendency that often goes unnoticed: our willingness to mistake familiarity for loyalty, resemblance for solidarity and association for shared purpose.

The comfort of familiarity

We often trust people because they come from where we come from, belong to the same family, share our history, work within the same organisation or identify with the same community.

We assume that common ground must translate into common interests.

Unfortunately, it does not always work that way.

People can share an identity without sharing an intention. They can occupy the same space without contributing to the same purpose. They can benefit from the same institution while making decisions that gradually undermine its existence.

A shared history does not guarantee a shared future.

The wooden handle may explain why the trees recognised the axe, but it does not establish that the axe shares their interest in preserving the forest.

Being made from the same material does not necessarily mean serving the same purpose.

Why do the trees keep voting?

Perhaps the most interesting question is not why the axe cuts down trees, but why the trees continue voting for it.

Some may be deceived by its appearance. Others may benefit from its presence. Some may fear the consequences of opposing it. Others may simply follow the majority without examining the consequences.

There may even be trees that recognise the danger but convince themselves that their own survival is guaranteed.

Different motivations, one collective consequence.

It is one thing to be deceived once. It is another to continue supporting something whose destructive consequences have become increasingly visible.

At some point, familiarity must give way to examination.

The question is no longer simply whether the axe belongs among the trees. It becomes whether the trees are willing to examine what their continued support is costing the forest.

The silence of the remaining trees

What about the trees that recognise the danger but remain silent?

Not every tree votes for the axe. Some may disagree privately, recognise the damage and fear what is coming. Yet they remain spectators.

Perhaps they do not want to become unpopular. Perhaps they fear isolation. Perhaps they believe someone else will eventually speak.

But while everyone waits for someone else to act, the forest continues shrinking.

Silence does not always mean agreement. Sometimes it reflects fear, powerlessness or uncertainty. We must be careful not to judge every silent tree by the same measure.

Nevertheless, silence can have consequences.

When those who recognise a danger consistently withhold their voices, opportunities for collective correction may disappear.

There is a difference between choosing not to participate in wrongdoing and choosing not to challenge wrongdoing when one has a responsibility and a reasonable opportunity to do so.

The axe must also answer

We must not allow the responsibility of the trees to overshadow the accountability of the axe.

The axe has its own responsibility for what it does.

The trees may have been deceived by familiarity, influenced by promises or persuaded by appearances. None of these circumstances transfers responsibility for the axe's actions to the trees.

Equally, the axe cannot escape accountability simply because the trees repeatedly voted for it.

These are separate responsibilities.

The axe must answer for its conduct. The trees must examine their judgement.

Collective responsibility should never become an excuse for individual wrongdoing, just as individual wrongdoing should not prevent us from examining the choices that enabled it.

Removing the axe is not enough

Suppose the trees finally recognise the danger and stop supporting the axe. Does that automatically restore the forest?

Not necessarily.

The remaining trees may still have damaged roots. The soil may need attention. The conditions that allowed the axe to gain influence may still exist.

Removing the axe addresses an immediate danger, but it does not automatically repair the damage or guarantee a healthier future.

The forest must examine the decisions, relationships and conditions that made its decline possible.

It must learn to value accountability over convenience, principles over personalities and collective preservation over individual advantage.

Otherwise, another axe may arrive, carrying a different handle, telling a different story and receiving the same unquestioning welcome.

The survival of the forest therefore requires more than identifying what is destroying it. It requires changing the conditions that allow destruction to continue.

The forest we leave behind

A forest is not merely a collection of trees enjoying the present together. It is an inheritance that extends beyond the generation currently occupying it.

Today's trees influence the conditions in which tomorrow's trees will grow.

This places a responsibility on every generation to think beyond immediate comfort and personal benefit.

We cannot claim to love the forest while consistently supporting decisions that compromise its future.

Nor can we measure our contribution to the forest merely by how long we have belonged to it.

Belonging is not simply about occupying space. It is about contributing to the conditions that allow others to flourish within that space.

Perhaps the greatest expression of loyalty is not always standing behind someone. Sometimes it is having the courage to stand against a decision that threatens what everyone depends upon.

And perhaps the greatest expression of belonging is refusing to participate in the destruction of what belongs to us all.

Discover. Recognise. Become.

The Umbrellas Philosophy invites us to discover the umbrellas within ourselves, recognise the umbrellas around us and become umbrellas of shelter for others.

This philosophy calls for discernment.

We must discover when our own choices are contributing to harm. We must recognise the difference between genuine shelter and familiar appearances. And we must become people whose actions protect, nurture and strengthen the communities to which we belong.

We cannot protect what we refuse to examine. We cannot preserve what we continually empower to deteriorate.

A wooden handle does not make an axe a tree.

And a forest does not survive merely because its trees stand together. It survives when their choices contribute to the preservation of the whole.

Perhaps the question is not simply whether we can recognise the axe.

Perhaps it is whether we have the wisdom to stop voting for it.

A question for the soul

Look beyond the familiar faces in your forest.

Are your choices strengthening the forest you claim to love? Are you supporting people because their actions serve the collective, or because their familiarity makes you comfortable?

And when you recognise that something is destroying the forest, do you have the courage to reconsider your vote?

Remember, the forest you inherit is influenced by the choices you make today.

And the forest you leave behind will tell a story about the decisions you were willing to make.

Discover. Recognise. Become.

Where hearts find shelter and souls find language.

Dibi Umbrellas Enterprise (DUE)