In a viral video from Dundee, Scotland, three schoolgirls stand on a hilltop. One clutches a knife and a hatchet, brandishing them toward an advancing man. Another shields a third girl in a pink sweatshirt, her voice breaking as she cries: “Don’t touch my sister, she’s twelve!”
It is a moment that distills civilizational decline. In that scream lies the sound of failure — the burden of defense shifted from the strong to the small, from institutions to children. Collapse rarely announces itself with flames and rubble; more often, it creeps in through abdication.
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