And the Dinosaur Was Still There

 by E. Sánchez-Blake

“When he awoke, the dinosaur was still there.” Augusto Monterroso’s celebrated micro-story encapsulates the unease that lingers as 2025 comes to an end. The feeling is unmistakable: a presence that cannot be ignored, even when it goes unnamed. Silence, or the refusal to articulate it directly, seems to function as a fragile defense—an attempt to diminish the weight of what looms before us.

Yet the presence asserts itself daily. It appears when screens are turned on, when headlines scroll past, when social media opens. The dinosaur occupies the entire field of vision. Its magnitude feels immeasurable.

The year unfolded as many anticipated: a gradual concentration of power, increasingly unchecked, extending its reach beyond borders. Entire communities of immigrants became objects of persecution.  Accounts of arbitrary detentions, degrading conditions, and systematic mistreatment emerged, only to fade quickly from collective attention. What now commands attention is the advance of US MIlitary forces through the Caribbean and the Pacific off the South American coasts, attacking vessels and killing their occupants with drones, in flagrant disregard of international law. Faced with the threat of an invasion of Venezuela, no one dares to oppose him. The timid warnings issued by the United Nations and a few human rights organizations have no effect. Thanks to the submission of the Supreme Court, Congress, multilateral organizations, and the world at large, the omnipotent monster has risen as sovereign over the universe, without counterweights or safeguards.

The media have been forced into submission by the pressure of the large corporations that finance them and that, in turn, obey the dictates of the government. Freedom of expression has gradually disappeared. Even The New York Times, which had maintained a firm stance despite coercion, has lowered its guard. Its reporting has become increasingly laconic and cautious. Universities and educational institutions have yielded to the degrading economic sanctions imposed upon them. It is unsettling to observe how the great Ivy League institutions have capitulated to demands to censor curricula, eliminating programs in gender, race, and history, as well as all initiatives related to Diversity, Inclusion, and Equality. Likewise, international projects in humanitarian aid, education, environmental protection, and scientific advancement have been obliterated. Domestically, social security and healthcare systems such as Medicare and Obamacare are at risk of being dismantled. In other words, that which once made the United States great—and the system of checks and balances that guaranteed basic rights such as education, healthcare, freedom of expression, and scientific progress—has collapsed.

And yet, endurance persists. Augusto Riska, a survivor of twentieth-century's Second World War and Soviet Communism,  remarked: “We survived Hitler, then Stalin—but we don’t know if we will survive T…” Unable to complete the name, he captured something essential: fear often begins where language falters.

That unfinished sentence resonates as 2025 closes.

One can only hope that 2026 brings awakening rather than resignation—that the world regains its capacity to respond thoughtfully and collectively, guided not by fear or excess, but by responsibility. It is difficult to accept that no global response exists to confront madness and excess of power. We hope that by the end of 2026 the dinosaur will no longer be a menace.