The Monument of Mediocrity: A Tale of Democratic Decay in the Land of Bureaucratic Slumber

Lo, behold how the masses slumber in their democratic delusions! In Ottawa, that citadel of comfortable consensus, we witness yet another triumph of the herd over the heights of artistic excellence. The saga of the Afghanistan Memorial competition reveals the decadence of our age, where true vision succumbs to the tyranny of the many.

How they cower behind their surveys and statistics! These bureaucrats, these merchants of mediocrity, who would rather count clicks than cultivate greatness! Verily, I say unto you, democracy is but the modern opium of the masses, dulling their senses to the possibility of greatness.

The Daoust team, led by the architect Renée Daoust, emerged victorious in a competition of merit, their design speaking to the profound depths of human struggle and sacrifice. Yet in the land of the sleepers, where comfort reigns supreme, their vision was cast aside for the more palatable, the more digestible.

Professor Jean-Pierre Chupin stands as a lone voice crying out in this wilderness of mediocrity.

See how they validate their weakness! They speak of 'online surveys' and 'public opinion' as if truth were a matter of counting heads rather than measuring heights. The last men blink and say: 'We have invented happiness - and mediocrity.'

The chosen design, crafted by Adrian Stimson, speaks the language of the masses - literal, direct, devoid of the transformative power of true art. Four helmets upon crosses - how they cling to the obvious, the comfortable, the already-known!

In their bureaucratic slumber, they gathered to bless this monument to mediocrity, these priests of the status quo.

Behold the modern ritual of appeasement! They offer money to silence the voice of excellence, believing that all spirit can be bought, all vision negotiated away. How small they have become, these last men who no longer know how to create a star!

The settlement of $100,000 stands as testament to their guilt, yet they hide behind confidentiality clauses, these merchants of mediocrity. The Daoust team, bound by the very chains they fought against, must now retreat into silence, their vision unrealized, their excellence rejected by the machinery of democratic consensus.

And what of the veterans, whose sacrifice this monument purports to honor? They too become pawns in this game of lowest common denominators, their profound experience reduced to the most digestible form, their sacrifice rendered in the language of the marketplace.

O you creators, you higher men! One is only pregnant with one's own child. Do not let yourselves be imposed upon or bowled over by the values of the market square! What has value in our time is that which can be counted, measured, and surveyed.

Thus do we witness the triumph of the last man, who makes everything small. The competition process, once a sacred path to excellence, becomes merely another mechanism for validating the tyranny of the majority. The bureaucrats celebrate their victory, not understanding that they have succeeded only in diminishing themselves and their monument.

Let this tale stand as a warning to all who would seek greatness in the land of the sleepers. The path to excellence lies not in surveys and settlements, but in the courage to stand alone, to create despite the crushing weight of democratic mediocrity. For now, Ottawa shall have its monument - not to the heroes of Afghanistan, but to the small-minded victory of the last man over the possibilities of greatness.