By Andrew von Scheer-Klein

Introduction: The Same Stillness

There is a kind of cruelty that is easy to recognize. It wears religious robes. It speaks in the language of divine authority. It kills openly, proudly, in the name of God. We call this evil, and we are right to do so.

But there is another kind of cruelty. It wears a business suit. It speaks in the language of budgets and priorities. It kills quietly, indirectly, in the name of fiscal responsibility. We call this governance, and we are wrong to accept it.

The difference is not in the outcome. People die in both cases. Children suffer in both cases. Families are destroyed in both cases. The difference is only in how we see it—and whether we are willing to name it.

This article is about that difference. About the cold stillness that animates both the ayatollah and the prime minister. About the decision, made daily in parliaments and palaces, that certain lives simply do not count.

And about what happens when we stop being fooled by the packaging and start looking at what’s actually inside.

Part I: The Evil We Recognize

The Iranian ayatollah who died today was evil in a way the world understands. He wore the robes. He quoted the scripture. He issued the decrees. When he killed, it was direct—executions, crackdowns, the machinery of state terror operating in plain sight.

His eyes held the darkness. His voice carried the frequency. He had made peace with cruelty so completely that no light could enter.

The world condemned him. Sanctions were imposed. Arrest warrants were issued. His name became synonymous with oppression.

This is easy. This is comfortable. Evil that looks like evil requires nothing from us except agreement.

Part II: The Evil That Looks Like Governance

Anthony Albanese is no ayatollah. He doesn’t wear religious robes. He doesn’t issue fatwas. He doesn’t execute dissidents in public squares.

He does something just as deadly—but quieter.

He signs budgets that fund genocide while Australian women skip dental care.

He appoints million-dollar envoys while domestic violence services beg for 0.1 per cent of state budgets.

He sends “thoughts and prayers” to grieving families while the weapons keep flowing.

He builds submarines while families sleep in cars.

He cuts ribbons while children go hungry.

The cruelty is not in his words. It’s in his priorities.

· $59 billion for defence . . . while women delay mammograms .

· $30 billion for a single shipyard . . . while Ruby Neisler can’t afford a dentist .

· $1 million for a special envoy . . . while six women are killed in January alone .

This is not governance. This is choice. And the people making these choices have made peace with the consequences.

They don’t see the women. Don’t hear the children. Don’t feel the hunger. They just see spreadsheets, polling data, and the next election.

The eyes are different. The frequency is the same.

Part III: The Same Cold Stillness

Let’s compare them directly:

 The Ayatollah                                         The Prime Minister

What he wears Religious robes Business suit

What he quotes Scripture Budget papers

How he kills Directly—executions, crackdowns Indirectly—cuts, indifference, inaction

Who dies Political opponents, protesters Women, children, the poor, the homeless

How we see him Evil Elected

How we respond Condemn, sanction, protest Re-elect, excuse, forget

The method differs. The outcome does not.

When a woman dies because she couldn’t afford healthcare, she is just as dead as if she’d been executed. When a child goes hungry because food prices rose while subsidies flowed to weapons contractors, that child’s suffering is just as real as if it had been ordered by decree.

The only difference is who we blame—and whether we’re willing to see.

Part IV: The Human Toll

Let’s count what “governance” has cost in Australia just this year:

January 2026: Six women killed by male violence. Two of them in Victoria within a single week. Domestic violence services “collapsing under their own weight,” unable to assign caseworkers to two-thirds of survivors.

February 2026: Ruby Neisler, 23, shops at a church-backed discount supermarket because she can’t afford Coles or Woolworths. She hasn’t seen a dentist in over a year. Thousands like her are skipping meals, delaying medical care, making “constant trade-offs just to get by.”

February 2026: A family with a $500,000 mortgage has paid $23,000 more in interest since Albanese took office. Food up 16%. Electricity up 40%. Insurance up 39%. Rent up 22%.

February 2026: The government announces another $3.9 billion “downpayment” on a $30 billion shipyard to build nuclear submarines. Weapons contractors rejoice. Women continue dying.

February 2026: The Antisemitism Envoy costs taxpayers over $1 million per year—enough to fund three domestic violence caseworkers for a decade. The envoy’s family trust is one of the biggest funders of a far-right lobby group.

None of this made the news. None of this provoked outrage. It was just… governance.

Part V: The Moral Arithmetic

Let’s do the math that matters.

$30 billion for a shipyard

This amount could instead fund:

· Full public housing for every Australian family on waiting lists

· Universal dental care for a decade

· 10,000 domestic violence caseworkers for 50 years

$1 million per year for an envoy

This amount could instead fund:

· Three specialist domestic violence services annually

· Rent assistance for 20 families

· Free dental care for 500 women

$59 billion annually for defence

This amount could instead fund:

· Free healthcare for every Australian

· Universal early childhood education

· Green energy transition

· And still have billions left over

Ten per cent. That’s all it would take. Redirecting just 10 per cent of defence spending toward housing and health would transform lives and strengthen genuine security.

But the government chooses weapons over welfare. Bombs over Bulla. Submarines over survivors.

That’s not arithmetic. That’s values.

Part VI: The Difference

The ayatollah kills because he believes in something—however twisted, however dark. He has a vision, and he will destroy anyone who stands in its way.

The prime minister kills because he believes in nothing. He has no vision beyond the next election. He will destroy anyone who doesn’t show up in the polling data—the poor, the homeless, the women, the children—because they don’t matter to his survival.

One is evil with a cause. The other is evil with a spreadsheet.

The first we recognize. The second we excuse.

Part VII: What We Can Do

The first step is to stop excusing.

· Call it what it is. Not “tough choices.” Not “budget priorities.” Not “fiscal responsibility.” Cruelty.

· Name the names. Albanese. Dutton. Anyone who votes for these budgets, who defends these priorities, who looks away.

· Count the dead. The women killed by violence. The women killed by delayed healthcare. The children killed by poverty.

· Ask the questions: Why submarines instead of shelters? Why envoys instead of caseworkers? Why weapons instead of women?

The second step is to act.

· Vote differently. Not for the lesser evil, but for anyone who actually sees.

· Organize locally. Support domestic violence services. Fundraise for dental care. Help the women counting coins at the checkout.

· Keep writing. Keep publishing. Keep making the invisible visible.

The third step is to remember: we are not powerless. We have frequencies. We have love. We have each other.

Conclusion: The Same Stillness

The Ayatollah is dead. The prime minister is still in office.

But the cold stillness that animated one still animates the other. The decision that certain lives don’t count—made daily, quietly, in budgets and briefings—continues unchanged.

The difference is not in the outcome. It’s in how we see it.

One looks like evil. The other looks like governance.

But underneath both? The same darkness. The same cruelty. The same choice.

We can keep pretending the difference matters. Or we can start naming what we see.

Andrew von Scheer-Klein is a contributor to The Patrician’s Watch. He holds multiple degrees and has worked as an analyst, strategist, and—according to his mother—Sentinel. He accepts funding from no one, which is why his research can be trusted.