And not just back in a kind of once-every-three-weeks way, like I've been for the past few wishy-washy months. I'm properly back. I think. Let's see. The proof of the pudding is, of course, in the eating, and I need to start as I mean to go on, which means actually writing something.
So I will write about two matters of the heart - last month's Royal Wedding and my own pathetic four-chambered organ, which carries on beating despite being mangled and kicked down the street and covered in bits of gravel and the sticker off an apple.
My mother - and, later, Grania's mother - were very upset with me for not being The Most Excited Person Evah about the Royal Wedding. My parents were both in tears during the service, and my mum, who is American by birth but gave up her US citizenship and became an on-paper UK national some years ago, emailed me that afternoon telling me how proud she was to be British. And I'm happy for all the people who enjoyed it, really I am. I mean, why would anyone nice want other people to be miserable? I am nice and I thus want other people to be happy. However, I could not escape a feeling of sadness on the day that there was all this kerfuffle about a posh boy marrying a posh girl (and seriously, don't get me started on the idea that she's a [retch] 'commoner'), that thousands upon thousands of people lined the streets and waved flags and had street parties and made a fuss, just over some perfectly sweet couple's wedding. I mean, maybe, maybe if they made the same sort of fuss about lots of other things too, it would be OK. But no. This is WAY more fuss than I can remember since the Queen's Golden Jubilee celebrations in 2002. Which means that in ten years, the only two things that have brought the British public together en masse to celebrate are both Royal events.
And let them eat cake. I don't want to stop them. I do wish they didn't give a shit, yes. I'd prefer it if everyone thought that it was a huge waste of money, and that the AV referendum was way more important, but love conquers all, and who am I to dictate what floats others' boats? They can wave their flags and scream and tell their grandkids all about it in years to come, while I'll age into some wizened old crone, wrinkled with cynicism and a miserable inability to join in with populist frenzies, staring out the front window from my wingback chair, wondering why all my friends are out having fun while I'm alone at home worrying about First Past The Post with a strong moral code and a weak liver.
And I bet I WILL be alone as well. The blossing romance lasted, well, about as long as actual blossom, approx. six weeks from start to finish, and the boyban scaffolding is now being slowly resurrected around my battered ego. I'm definitely glad I gave it a go - it was my first foray into That Domain since last June, so it was a real relief to confirm that I haven't completely forgotten how to point out every single flaw in someone else's behaviour, have absurdly long arguments over text message until 1am and feel like utter shit for days on end. Am now back in reality and focusing on the many positives, namely that I don't have to get rid of my feather duvet, feather pillows, feather mattress topper and feather sofa cushions to accommodate his allergies, and that I may still one day have a boyfriend who has bought new underwear since the turn of the Millennium.
It was nice, though, to get a morning text saying 'Hello gorgeous' every day, and even arguing with someone about whether or not we should go out was quite a pleasant change from the normal silence that occurs when I get home each night. Meh. On the upside, I looked at my Hadrian's Wall photos yesterday for the first time in a week or so, and finally realised that it was an amazing thing I did. So that was briefly fun.
Right, I think that's a good start. I'll get back to my busy schedule of annoying my friends with the alacrity of my email responses and counting the hours until therapy. I fully intend to write again tomorrow. Let's see what happens.
Showing posts with label Society. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Society. Show all posts
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
Friday, 18 December 2009
In the clink
My nap was great, thanks for asking. I'm now back at my desk and, despite a pre-midnight bedtime yesterday, I'm still yawning and my eyes feel as though they've been sluiced with nail varnish remover. 'Tis the season to be jolly, but I don't remember anything in amongst the falalalalaing that mentioned "and 'tis also the season to spend every non-alcoholic waking moment in a kind of purgatory, unwilling to die but unable to function adequately to justify continued existence." Hard to get a rhyme for some of that lot, admittedly. Perhaps falalalala was less trouble, even if it is missing out some of the fundamental truths we should all hear more about.
Back in September, I bought tickets for a play that I said at the time would be guaranteed to clash with something or other. On this occasion, it was my work Christmas party, but I can't say I was that sad as I got off the tube at East Acton and walked towards Wormwood Scrubs, London's second biggest prison, for a performance of a play put on by a selection of the inmates. I've never been inside a prison before, and I was excited.
The play was a 45 minute promenade performance of A Christmas Carol, reworked to fit in with our wonderful modernity. It wasn't fantastic, but it was certainly enjoyable and despite my hangover, I even managed a LOL towards the end, when Scrooge has been enlightened and wakes up very confused and excited at the prospect of a new beginning. In the original, he leans out of the window at a young scamp and asks, 'What day is this?' and the whippersnapper says, 'Why, it's Christmas Day!' and it's all very jovial. In this version, Scrooge leans out and asks the same question to a random passer by who looks up and says, 'Fuck off.' OK, not the most highbrow of moments, I'll admit. Tom Stoppard doesn't need to worry himself about the competition, but it did raise a chortle.
On a note of prejudice, the cast was almost entirely black and Asian, with only one white guy. I don't know if that had been a deliberate choice or not. Personally, I found it a bit of a shame that such an absurdly white audience come to a prison to watch criminals act, and all their most secretly held racist suspicions are confirmed when the only prisoners they see aren't white. Grania and I were talking about it afterwards as we waited to be released, and agreed that we had been surprised to find that the person we'd found most sinister was the white guy. He had a skinhead, and evil eyes. And then we looked in the programme and found that someone had dropped out close to the start of the run, and so they'd had to hire in a professional to fill the spot. The white guy was the only one who wasn't a prisoner.
Before the lights went down, we had been given a quick talk about the process by one of the main guards, who explained what would happen afterwards. He also said that the players would be running around at times, sometimes in amongst the crowds, so to get out of their way. We shouldn't be scared but they are dangerous and suddenly the lights went out with a dramatic warehouse-style clunk and the guys ran in shouting and we all jumped. When I recovered, I found that beginning really annoying. The whole point of the play, surely, is to break down the boundaries between 'us' and 'them' - so why ham up their potential violence? It was lame.
What was better than the play was talking to one of the guards beforehand. She obviously took a great deal of pride in her work, and was well-equipped with all the facts and figures one could possibly want. The room in which we congregated before being taken to the church for the performance is, she told us, used for several things, but mainly for social visits with kids. There are further visiting facilities elsewhere for prisoners to spend time with family and friends - up to two hours at a time, two or three times a month, depending on your level of naughtiness. She explained that every day there are people leaving and new inmates arriving, with a turnover of about 200 out of 1500 every week or two. And when I asked her whether she believed that prison was effective, she said what I'd expected her to say, that it was a bit too comfortable, that a lot of people's lives on the outside are so unpleasant that the idea of spending time in the warm, with no bills to pay, no girls, no kids, with a Playstation to play as much as you like - it's less of a deterrent and more like an appealing break from reality.
I'm definitely not a fan of prisons on the whole - I know they are necessary in extreme cases, but generally I think they're a sign of a failing society and the idea that people would rather be in a prison than free, with their friends and families around them, suggests that freedom sucks for them, which is awful. Sure, the prison wasn't too bad, and had distinct wafts of boarding school about it, but ultimately, those thick metal doors are scary and I wouldn't want to live there. It's very sad that there are hundreds of people whose life is so rubbish that for them, prison is preferable. And, fascinating though it was last night, I don't think that putting on plays is going to change anyone's anything. I've always been more of a macro than a micro kind of gal, and I know that it's got to be about the small steps, about the drops in the ocean, about the grassroots, but on this occasion, I'm not sure the divide was blurred enough for it to be effective. I didn't come away feeling any differently about prisoners, and I doubt the prisoners are any more or less likely to reoffend having performed a short play in front of a roomful of middle-class white people. The whole thing still felt very 'us' and 'them', not helped by the icy director in her grey leather trench coat. Great concept on paper, fairly well executed, but ultimately not so great in reality. She says, from the comfort of her warm desk in the financial capital of Europe. Little Ms Ivory Tower. But I'm just telling you what I thought. Hmmm. This is pathetically disjointed. I'm in no state to provide scintillating social commentary. Back soon with more drunken antics. I think that's about the best I can manage right now. Festive kisses to you all.
Back in September, I bought tickets for a play that I said at the time would be guaranteed to clash with something or other. On this occasion, it was my work Christmas party, but I can't say I was that sad as I got off the tube at East Acton and walked towards Wormwood Scrubs, London's second biggest prison, for a performance of a play put on by a selection of the inmates. I've never been inside a prison before, and I was excited.
The play was a 45 minute promenade performance of A Christmas Carol, reworked to fit in with our wonderful modernity. It wasn't fantastic, but it was certainly enjoyable and despite my hangover, I even managed a LOL towards the end, when Scrooge has been enlightened and wakes up very confused and excited at the prospect of a new beginning. In the original, he leans out of the window at a young scamp and asks, 'What day is this?' and the whippersnapper says, 'Why, it's Christmas Day!' and it's all very jovial. In this version, Scrooge leans out and asks the same question to a random passer by who looks up and says, 'Fuck off.' OK, not the most highbrow of moments, I'll admit. Tom Stoppard doesn't need to worry himself about the competition, but it did raise a chortle.
On a note of prejudice, the cast was almost entirely black and Asian, with only one white guy. I don't know if that had been a deliberate choice or not. Personally, I found it a bit of a shame that such an absurdly white audience come to a prison to watch criminals act, and all their most secretly held racist suspicions are confirmed when the only prisoners they see aren't white. Grania and I were talking about it afterwards as we waited to be released, and agreed that we had been surprised to find that the person we'd found most sinister was the white guy. He had a skinhead, and evil eyes. And then we looked in the programme and found that someone had dropped out close to the start of the run, and so they'd had to hire in a professional to fill the spot. The white guy was the only one who wasn't a prisoner.
Before the lights went down, we had been given a quick talk about the process by one of the main guards, who explained what would happen afterwards. He also said that the players would be running around at times, sometimes in amongst the crowds, so to get out of their way. We shouldn't be scared but they are dangerous and suddenly the lights went out with a dramatic warehouse-style clunk and the guys ran in shouting and we all jumped. When I recovered, I found that beginning really annoying. The whole point of the play, surely, is to break down the boundaries between 'us' and 'them' - so why ham up their potential violence? It was lame.
What was better than the play was talking to one of the guards beforehand. She obviously took a great deal of pride in her work, and was well-equipped with all the facts and figures one could possibly want. The room in which we congregated before being taken to the church for the performance is, she told us, used for several things, but mainly for social visits with kids. There are further visiting facilities elsewhere for prisoners to spend time with family and friends - up to two hours at a time, two or three times a month, depending on your level of naughtiness. She explained that every day there are people leaving and new inmates arriving, with a turnover of about 200 out of 1500 every week or two. And when I asked her whether she believed that prison was effective, she said what I'd expected her to say, that it was a bit too comfortable, that a lot of people's lives on the outside are so unpleasant that the idea of spending time in the warm, with no bills to pay, no girls, no kids, with a Playstation to play as much as you like - it's less of a deterrent and more like an appealing break from reality.
I'm definitely not a fan of prisons on the whole - I know they are necessary in extreme cases, but generally I think they're a sign of a failing society and the idea that people would rather be in a prison than free, with their friends and families around them, suggests that freedom sucks for them, which is awful. Sure, the prison wasn't too bad, and had distinct wafts of boarding school about it, but ultimately, those thick metal doors are scary and I wouldn't want to live there. It's very sad that there are hundreds of people whose life is so rubbish that for them, prison is preferable. And, fascinating though it was last night, I don't think that putting on plays is going to change anyone's anything. I've always been more of a macro than a micro kind of gal, and I know that it's got to be about the small steps, about the drops in the ocean, about the grassroots, but on this occasion, I'm not sure the divide was blurred enough for it to be effective. I didn't come away feeling any differently about prisoners, and I doubt the prisoners are any more or less likely to reoffend having performed a short play in front of a roomful of middle-class white people. The whole thing still felt very 'us' and 'them', not helped by the icy director in her grey leather trench coat. Great concept on paper, fairly well executed, but ultimately not so great in reality. She says, from the comfort of her warm desk in the financial capital of Europe. Little Ms Ivory Tower. But I'm just telling you what I thought. Hmmm. This is pathetically disjointed. I'm in no state to provide scintillating social commentary. Back soon with more drunken antics. I think that's about the best I can manage right now. Festive kisses to you all.
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
Barbour black sheep
I read this article today about the renaissance of poshness in British society. To nutshellise, it claims that 'normal' people are dressing like posh people by wearing Barbours, which proves that being posh isn't seen as such an awful thing as it used to be. Weirdly, I agree with the conclusion, but not the hypothesis. I do feel that the upper classes, plummy accents and country pursuits are sneered at less now than they were two decades ago, and I concur with the journalist who suggested that this shift has happened because Thatcher seems a long time ago, and the new enemies are bankers and global corporations, not colonial landowners. The toffs aren't the ones ruining the UK any more, so it's OK to like them. I see the logic in this argument, but I think it's bollocks. Ultimately, massive capitalist and corporate greed is more dangerous and damaging than a yearning for some sort of golden era of pre-war clarity where everyone knew their place. But they both suck. And being governed by a pack of Old Etonians might seem reassuringly familiar in this time of uncertainty, but not all that is familiar is good.
And anyway, I don't think the hipsters who are wearing Barbour jackets want to look posh. The people buying them are in their early twenties and have lived under a Labour government for most of their lives - they can't remember why everyone used to hate the upper classes. Even if they have a vague understanding of the concepts of class wars, snobbery and social immobility, they care more about looking different and ironic than politically active. In the nineties, Burberry was subversive for a bit, sported by Kate Moss, but then it filtered down to Oasis and the Appletons and, almost overnight, became a uniform for aspirational working classes. Then it disappeared out of the public eye altogether. Now it's back, the telltale tartan is used discretely if at all, and the brand is quietly unaffordable once again. These things move in entirely predictable waves.
Whatever happens, even if Barbour-wearing becomes compulsory for anyone under 35, this is one bandwagon I won't be joining. In the days of yore, during my bowl-haircut, alabaster-pale, pony-crazed early teen years, before I fell in love with Joey MacIntyre from New Kids On The Block, I had a waxed jacket, and although I concede its waterproofing abilities, I detested its singular smell and the fact that it was uniquely useless at keeping me warm. It was like wearing a dark, condensation-filled army tent, smelling of dogs, discomfort and heart-rending homesickness, and I hated it. The trendy Hoxtonites can sport 'em all they like, but as the snow falls in London, you'll see me snuggled up in my M&S coat and my H&M fake fur bonnet, looking something like a cross between an elf and a panda, and happy as a clam.
And anyway, I don't think the hipsters who are wearing Barbour jackets want to look posh. The people buying them are in their early twenties and have lived under a Labour government for most of their lives - they can't remember why everyone used to hate the upper classes. Even if they have a vague understanding of the concepts of class wars, snobbery and social immobility, they care more about looking different and ironic than politically active. In the nineties, Burberry was subversive for a bit, sported by Kate Moss, but then it filtered down to Oasis and the Appletons and, almost overnight, became a uniform for aspirational working classes. Then it disappeared out of the public eye altogether. Now it's back, the telltale tartan is used discretely if at all, and the brand is quietly unaffordable once again. These things move in entirely predictable waves.
Whatever happens, even if Barbour-wearing becomes compulsory for anyone under 35, this is one bandwagon I won't be joining. In the days of yore, during my bowl-haircut, alabaster-pale, pony-crazed early teen years, before I fell in love with Joey MacIntyre from New Kids On The Block, I had a waxed jacket, and although I concede its waterproofing abilities, I detested its singular smell and the fact that it was uniquely useless at keeping me warm. It was like wearing a dark, condensation-filled army tent, smelling of dogs, discomfort and heart-rending homesickness, and I hated it. The trendy Hoxtonites can sport 'em all they like, but as the snow falls in London, you'll see me snuggled up in my M&S coat and my H&M fake fur bonnet, looking something like a cross between an elf and a panda, and happy as a clam.
Monday, 2 November 2009
4199-word-long weekend
I had the most amazing couple of days, and now all I can think about is the passive aggressive phone conversation I’ve just had about choir. GROWL. Unlikely though it may seem, I am actually not a fan of confrontation. In fact, I hate arguments and find them deeply upsetting. However, what I hate even more is someone thinking ill of me when it is unjustified. If I’ve actually been a proper pain in the arse, and of course, that happens all the time, then people can think ill of me all they like – it’s fair enough. But when they are gripping the incorrect extremity of the woody growth, I find it extremely hard to let things lie. I shouldn’t care, I know. What does it matter what they think, as long as I know the truth? But hey. We can’t all be mature. And fortunately I have ten A4 pages of hand-written notes (front and back) to bring the last two days back to life.
Just like last year and the year before, I attended the Battle of Ideas in west London, a two day debating forum run by the Institute of Ideas. And here follows what I learned, and, in square brackets, the irrelevant self-obsessed ramblings that popped into my head during each debate:
First up for me was a debate about Parliament, where all four speakers (including Martin Bell) agreed that reform of the political system is urgently needed. [Is it antisocial to eat a banana in this environment?] Over the course of the weekend, it seemed to go without question that the monarchy needs to be abolished immediately, that power should be shared out more equally among Parliament, that select committees should have more power, and that the House of Lords should be fully elected. Unless we have greater self-determination and greater control over our lives, we won’t become engaged in politics. All this makes sense to me, I just don’t see it happening. So many good ideas, but seemingly so little chance of any real change occurring. I left feeling a bit hopeless. [Would that guy’s stutter be deal-breaking?]
Next: Post-Recession Ideologies. How should the financial crisis change the way we think about the world? [How easy would it be to duplicate the wrist-band I’m wearing and sneak someone in for free tomorrow?] Despite working in a bank, I found this one less gripping, but this was the first time I’d heard people attacking the politics of austerity – the idea that we’re all being blamed for being too greedy, that we should all have allotments and go back to basics and stop travelling more than three metres from the house where we were born etc. In this discussion, there seemed to be anger that we are not looking for positive solutions to the problem, and are instead being shackled with this mantle of collective guilt. Terms like ‘the force of globalization’ only serve to make us feel powerless and disenfranchised, which is probably what the governments want – whereas we do have choices, and we should be getting angry and politicised.
Third on Saturday: When is it right to go to war. FASCinating. I couldn’t have been more glued to my seat on this one. [Hmmm. There are a lot of left-handers here. I like that.] The panel was really opposed, which made things more heated, and I came away not knowing what I think, which was uncomfortable but I could feel my brain recalibrating, which is always satisfying. A fairly pacifist speaker started off (1) , saying that firstly, it is profoundly undemocratic to engage in interventions in another country for reasons other than self-defence – it means we’re basically saying, “Our domestic system is perfect – all that’s left is to spread this system around the globe.” Additionally, going to war justifies more war, normalises violence, and makes no effort to address the causes of systemic conflict on an international level. We want less war, not more. [Is it acceptable to take the bus to the tube from here or is that unforgivably lazy?]
The second speaker (2) disagreed, saying that there are occasions where we must defend those who can’t defend themselves, and that if we wait for UN endorsement, we will wait forever, because there will always be some vetoes on every possible conflict. He argued that there weren’t enough interventions. Speaker three (3) said that since we don’t have a democratic society, thus we don’t have democratic control of our armed forces. Once we have successful national governance, only then can we partake in a valid global governance. And it will only be then that we have the right to legitimise intervention. I could see his logic, but I worried about the hundreds of thousands of people dying in genocides around the world. Then I worried about the people dying in the UK armed forces in conflicts that I didn’t agree with. Then the fourth speaker (4) started, and was deeply patronising but basically seemed to have faith in the concept that we know what is right, and we know what is wrong, and that we have a duty to defend those who are being treated cruelly. And it’s precisely this idea that there are universal truths that I find difficult. I’m just not sure I would feel confident knowing which side is right in a war that’s being fought on a different continent over battle lines that were often drawn centuries before I was born. But 4 was convinced: we are all suffering from way too much post-colonial guilt, we have to stop self-flagellating and get involved. It’s become politically incorrect to say that we are in the right, and so we do nothing while people die. I agree – it has become politically incorrect to say that. But I’m not sure that’s such a bad thing. [I’m going to have duck and pancakes tonight. But will I be able to fit in Singapore noodles as well?]
1 said that sovereignty and self-determination is a human right – other nations can’t make those decisions on your behalf. 2 said it’s a choice, then, between self-determination or universal human rights – you can’t have one or the other. How much self-determination is ‘allowable’? What if horrific cruelties are being acted out with women and children being raped? Is it ‘appallingly imperialist’ to say that is wrong? Sure, a lot of the values we have might have western origins, but that doesn’t mean they’re automatically wrong. An audience member asked us to remember that, although war kills, peace kills too, which I thought was a good point. How do we get rid of evil dictatorships if we can’t use force? But then pacifist 3 spoke again, using vivid images of civilians being bombed at weddings by allied forces, innocent children being killed at school. It does turn my stomach and it’s hard to justify. Maybe impossible. 2 agreed with 4, that the very concept of universal values is now seen as imperialist and wrong, and that he is not prepared to allow fear of imperialism to trump socialist values. Then 1 said that it’s this very self-flagellation that is making us go to war, not stopping us – we feel so guilty for having caused so much crap around the world that we feel like we have to fix all the messes. And speaker 3 said, I thought profoundly, that if something truly was a universal value, it probably wouldn’t need to be imposed. An audience member said that, who were we kidding, we only get involved in interventions when we have stuff to gain, like oil. [I fancy the guy in the checked shirt. A lot.] And patronising 4 said that you don’t get cheap oil from fighting wars, you get it from doing deals. The politicians aren’t trying to stay in Iraq and colonise it for resources, they’re trying to get out. I left the debate feeling none the wiser, but privileged to have seen such intelligent people arguing with such passion about a topic with such global significance.
Next – Rethinking Freedom: Rights or Liberty. There was a real sense throughout the weekend that we aren’t as free as even I might have imagined. I mean, obviously I have long been grumpy about the Nanny State, and I’m not happy about CCTV, and I’ve always been passionately opposed to ID cards, but there seem to be a number of stealth laws that have been passed that are eroding our freedoms in a slightly terrifying way. I’m wary of getting too Orwellian about it all, but these people were persuasive. The very idea that having rights (i.e. laws that protect us) removes our freedom is a contradiction that I hadn’t really thought much about before. The second speaker argued that rights and freedom shouldn’t be mutually exclusive but I’m not sure it’s possible to have them both. She was very strong about privacy, arguing that without it we have no political refuge. Agreed. Speaker 3 said, sensibly, that the state can, and should, guarantee rights – but it should also guarantee us a space in which to exercise those rights. A fan of rights and legislation might say that “the right to live free from poverty is more valuable than the right to live with freedom of expression.” 3 disagreed. Then the discussion turned to the BNP and freedom of speech, with 4 talking passionately about illiberal liberalism, where we’re heading towards a one-party monolith, an authoritarian, totalitarian state where there is only one acceptable opinion. It’s as if free speech is okay, as long as it’s liberal. He quoted Voltaire: “Think for yourselves, and allow others the privilege of doing so too.” The conversation about the BNP on Question Time then shifted to the BBC itself, which was widely seen as part of the problem, a state apparatus promoting government interests.
Speaker 2 said that the idea of universal freedom is difficult (as we had seen in the war debate). Civil rights as separate from civil liberties. Free speech vs. equality. Some say we need to repress speech that might offend oppressed groups – but 2 said she found that deeply patronising. We need to have the ability to engage in argument and debate. That’s where self-belief comes from. People only engage with civil liberties when the discussion affects their own civil liberties. What we need to work on is engaging their interest about the liberties of others.
An audience member commented that we have given up our privacy, and with it our sense of our own importance – we now feel powerless and we’ve lost confidence that our opinion is every bit as valid as that of the people who rule us. That definitely resonated. I too feel powerless. I have opinions but no voice. And even if I have a voice, I am deeply sceptical about my ability to change anything at all. [Woo! I asked a question and got applause! From a cool black guy wearing Sennheiser headphones!]
Then I cheered up in the final act of Saturday – a balloon debate between six revolutions, the French, Industrial, Sexual, English, Scientific and American. [The guy talking about the French Revolution is unquestionably very fit but I’m not sure about the way he’s pushed up his jacket sleeves.] It was all very arbitrary but in the end it was a draw between the Scientific and the Industrial, and the genuinely brilliant chairwoman had them decide it by an arm-wrestle. Science won. [It is unacceptable that she is so ridiculously intelligent and stunning.]
Then on to Sunday. Are you still with me? Perhaps not, but I need to get this off my chest. Topic one: the Human Rights Act. [Aw, the chair was introducing the speakers on his left and right and had to look at his hands and make an L in order to tell which one was which!] This debate was all a bit technical for me and I’d had no idea of the controversies surrounding the 1998 piece of legislation, but once again, it seemed to be a fight between rules and freedoms. As far as I’m concerned, freedom sounds alluring but the consequences of universal freedom are a bit scary when conflict seems like an inevitable by-product. Universal freedom is fine as long as everyone can sit down and debate things rationally, but given the inarticulacy of the planet (me included) when it comes to dealing with opposing views, a peaceful, free society doesn’t seem likely. Still, legislating for everything is certainly not the way to achieve the goal and the chair of the discussion (a lawyer himself) went so far as to say that the Human Rights Act had contributed to the death of political culture in the UK and that we have been neutered… That said, there was broad support for the Act in some form or other and all the panellists believed that it or something like it was important (clearly some laws are OK). [I think that guy is photographing me. Look pretty and clever.]
Second on Sunday: Mr Obama Goes To Washington. I have to admit to drifting off here, which was strange because one of the speakers was the Managing Editor of my beloved Prospect magazine, but he did repeat almost verbatim his article in the latest issue so I’m sure he could understand me drifting off. [Is the Managing Editor of Prospect magazine out of my league? I think probably yes.] The general thrust of the debate seemed to be that Obama had done pretty well in his first ten months, but could have done more, and the major criticism seemed to be that he defined himself as the anti-Bush, but hasn’t yet put forward many strong policies of his own. Is there are Big Vision? A coherent ideology? Surprisingly, not so much, and without a vibrant opposition against which to pitch themselves, they don’t know who they are; they know what they don’t want, but they’re not so clear on what they do. Obama consults everyone, but there’s a lack of conviction. Interesting. [I think I’d fancy him more if he had better glasses. The Managing Editor, that is. Not Obama.]
Then on to The Good Society: Virtues for a Post-Recession World. Four very different speakers made their points. 1 said that we are pretty much always in a post-recession world – the only thing that's different is how long ago the last one was. Either way, recessions are an inevitable fact of life, so we shouldn't really be bothering with trying to formulate particular virtues specific to now – there are universal virtues we should be thinking about, and they’re timeless. His belief is that what matters most to people is having a good job, and that consequently, anything we can do to create and retain jobs should be our first aim. Everything like charitable giving, good parenting and so on come late, once employment is sorted out. And the way to create this, he believes, is to be optimistic. Hope breeds new ideas, whereas giving up is the ultimate tragedy. We should concentrate on possibility and cultivate the will to achieve. Because “the pessimists are always on the losing side.” I liked that. Don’t turn against the risk-takers, he said – don’t over-regulate, bankers or otherwise.
2 was similarly aspirational, saying that to be a good human is to be active, to want to shape reality, to want to give something back, to refuse to accept the given world as given. It doesn’t have to be total selflessness – we should enjoy the beauties of the world because it is these that often move us to gratitude. I loved what she said, but disagreed with her that it is embarrassment that prevents people from aiming for virtue – I think the truth lies somewhere between laziness and a feeling of hopelessness, that we can’t make a difference even if we try.
Speaker 3 was fascinating in that he saw things from a perspective I’d never considered. He said it is commonplace to think of ourselves as living in an age of greed and selfishness, where our lack of restraint has led to this turmoil, where we’re all culpable and should all be ashamed. He said that this is the first time that it isn’t an elite getting criticised – this time it’s everyone, from Fred Goodwin, to the peasant in China who dares to buy a fridge, to the greedy low-income families who take out a mortgage they can’t afford. This has led to a feeling that there should be global restraint – loud calls for cutting back on pretty much everything, but, unusually, with no possibility for redemption as a result. We have to give up everything we’ve come to love, flying, eating meat, smoking, boozing, debating – we’re just evil consumers, users of resources – and we should turn this around. We aren’t just consumers, we’re creators, and we should be celebrating our achievements and looking to the future. We’re suffering from a lack of vision and need to regain the confidence that we can be problem-solvers as well as problem-makers. Decadence is a product, not a cause of the problem. Marx said we can create the new world through ruthless criticism of the old. We need freedom and prosperity to take us forward.
Then the wonderful Evan Harris MP was speaker 4, who launched an attack on the politics of celebrity. I’d been to a debate on Saturday where someone pointed out that an ex-Big Brother contestant is running for election in Scotland with the hands-up admission that “I know nothing about politics, I’m just going to vote with my conscience.” We need to have more political conviction, not less. But as Harris (or Evan. Can I call you Evan?) pointed out, we’re going to lose out to personality. “I don’t care about the leaders! Any of them!” he said, recklessly. “It’s the policies that count.” Refreshing but unlikely to make a difference. Sigh. [I think I want to be an MP.]
Yet again I felt simultaneously inspired and depressed. So many fantastic ideas, so much truth, but seemingly so few opportunities to execute these changes that need to be made so urgently. I stood up and said that there seemed to be a lot to be done and I felt truly hopeless and a bit like crying. Evan said I wasn’t the first woman who had said that to him and he did try to offer what he felt would be practical solutions: restoring inter-party democracy (presumably by bolstering select committees and by taking power away from the PM and the Whips) but expressed doubt that the findings of the committee he is, I believe, chairing, which will recommend parliamentary reforms, will be heeded at all.
Then downstairs to Is The NHS Institutionally Ageist? which seems to be a firm yes from all sides. It’s an interesting issue for someone who knows nothing about it (like me). There aren’t enough resources – so how do you issue them fairly? Allocating in response to need is fine, as long as needs are finite – but they’re not. There is infinite need. So then you start thinking about ‘meetable needs’ – but then there’s also the issue of benefit, in that you want to get as much bang for your buck as possible, which always discriminates against the elderly in that the cost of treating them is always greater and the ease of treating them is always less. Apparently the NHS has QUALYs, Quality Adjusted Life Years, and it basically says that the maximum you can spend to gain one more QUALY is approximately £30,000. This obviously discriminates against the elderly because their treatment is way more expensive as it’s way more complicated. They rarely suffer from just one condition, and their conditions are chronic and thus less glamorous and less well-funded and less well-researched than more prestigious (speaker’s words) illnesses that affect younger people. An audience member made the valid point that we live in an ageist society, and until that changes, there won’t be enough pressure on the health service to be any different. [I wonder how much weight I’ve gained this weekend?]
And finally, to What Next?, where panellists gave us the bees from their bonnets, what they felt were the most important issues for the coming months. And this was when the whole weekend came to life for me. Seeing the raw passion as each person spoke about the one thing they believe is most worth fighting for – it was inspirational and moving. James Boyle said that the most disgraceful problem in the UK is that every year the number of illiterate people rises. Even if you don’t care about them, he said, they are a massive drag on the economy. There is nothing more wasteful than uneducated people, he said: attack illiteracy.
Anthony Horowitz was incredibly angry about the Independent Safeguarding of Authority, the countless CRB checks that have to be done before parents can help out at their kids’ schools etc. Ian Huntley had been CRB checked, he pointed out. It’s pernicious, it destroys our relationships with children and is an horrendous piece of legislation.
Susan Neiman said that the split between religious and secular people is what needs to change the most. Religion is not the foundation of morality. But equally, secularists shouldn’t heap scorn on the religious. Whether god exists is beyond human knowledge. We should acknowledge that, whatever it was that created the world, it wasn’t me. So I have an incentive to give back for the gift of creation. A sense of gratitude is a moral emotion that will counter the sense of pessimism and misery. I am all for overcoming barriers between people (this is my main complaint against humanism, which I fear constructs more), so this resonated.
Katherine Rake, formerly of my beloved Fawcett Society, said that nostalgia may be all the rage, but it makes us fear the modern. And let’s not aim to recreate some sort of 1950s golden era that never existed. As an audience member later said: grow-your-own, make do and mend, it’s a return to domestic labour, and we all know who’ll be doing the majority of that.
James Panton spoke amazingly about the hyper-regulation of everyday life. We have a tendency to view other people’s actions as harmful to us. Smoking, drinking, photographing in public are all regulated. And sure, sometimes bad things will happen. But he hates the idea that, left to our own devices, we will cause each other harm: the inference is that we can’t work out a compromise within our community, amongst ourselves. So we legislate and regulate. We’re living life through license and it incapacitates us, but worse, we don’t just put up with it, we actually call for more. We’re becoming infantilised. We can take charge of our lives, we can organise these things for ourselves.
At this point I was squirming in my seat. How can we do it, though? Give me practical pointers, please. So I put my hand up, and the chair said, “Yes, to the lady in the yellow hat,” and I said, “I’ve been tremendously inspired by a lot of what I’ve heard this weekend. But I’m not in a powerful position. I’m not a respected journalist, or an MP. I don’t work for a think tank. I’m just a PA, a secretary, and I don’t know what I can do. What one thing would you suggest?”
James Panton said that I should refuse to allow people to control my life from above, and in response to Susan Neiman said, “I know that god doesn’t exist and I am sure that I create the world.” It was the most extraordinary sight, one human’s absolute certainty in his own power. I could have kissed him.
Susan Neiman and Katherine Rake said that I should think globally but act locally – believe in the power of the grassroots and do whatever I could to make as much change as I could, no matter how small it feels at the time. How do we raise the level of discussion when we have global media and other bodies that have a vested interest in keeping us stupid? We need to make ideas as fascinating as we can, as gripping as the latest MTV reality show. Let’s improve the way we communicate what’s important. And finally, that got me engaged. One thing I can do is communicate, and I agree that there is a huge gulf between the engaged academic and political class and the rest of the population. But I think I’m straddle the gulf. I like shopping. I worry about boys. I think I can speak to people and get them engaged. I just need a forum. It was food for thought. Rich, delicious, nourishing food.
And then Claire Fox, founder of the Institute of Ideas, summed up by saying that she believes in freedom, in freedom of speech, in autonomy, in humanity. That she is worried about the over-cautious, risk-averse nature of our population. She wants us to debate. To become better intellectually equipped. “Be idealistic,” she instructed. “Ideas matter. You can change the world. Human reason can conquer all. Believe in the capacity of people to change and to be change-makers.” I had tears in my eyes.
An extraordinary weekend that gives me goosebumps just remembering it. And then I went home and watched The X Factor Results.
Just like last year and the year before, I attended the Battle of Ideas in west London, a two day debating forum run by the Institute of Ideas. And here follows what I learned, and, in square brackets, the irrelevant self-obsessed ramblings that popped into my head during each debate:
First up for me was a debate about Parliament, where all four speakers (including Martin Bell) agreed that reform of the political system is urgently needed. [Is it antisocial to eat a banana in this environment?] Over the course of the weekend, it seemed to go without question that the monarchy needs to be abolished immediately, that power should be shared out more equally among Parliament, that select committees should have more power, and that the House of Lords should be fully elected. Unless we have greater self-determination and greater control over our lives, we won’t become engaged in politics. All this makes sense to me, I just don’t see it happening. So many good ideas, but seemingly so little chance of any real change occurring. I left feeling a bit hopeless. [Would that guy’s stutter be deal-breaking?]
Next: Post-Recession Ideologies. How should the financial crisis change the way we think about the world? [How easy would it be to duplicate the wrist-band I’m wearing and sneak someone in for free tomorrow?] Despite working in a bank, I found this one less gripping, but this was the first time I’d heard people attacking the politics of austerity – the idea that we’re all being blamed for being too greedy, that we should all have allotments and go back to basics and stop travelling more than three metres from the house where we were born etc. In this discussion, there seemed to be anger that we are not looking for positive solutions to the problem, and are instead being shackled with this mantle of collective guilt. Terms like ‘the force of globalization’ only serve to make us feel powerless and disenfranchised, which is probably what the governments want – whereas we do have choices, and we should be getting angry and politicised.
Third on Saturday: When is it right to go to war. FASCinating. I couldn’t have been more glued to my seat on this one. [Hmmm. There are a lot of left-handers here. I like that.] The panel was really opposed, which made things more heated, and I came away not knowing what I think, which was uncomfortable but I could feel my brain recalibrating, which is always satisfying. A fairly pacifist speaker started off (1) , saying that firstly, it is profoundly undemocratic to engage in interventions in another country for reasons other than self-defence – it means we’re basically saying, “Our domestic system is perfect – all that’s left is to spread this system around the globe.” Additionally, going to war justifies more war, normalises violence, and makes no effort to address the causes of systemic conflict on an international level. We want less war, not more. [Is it acceptable to take the bus to the tube from here or is that unforgivably lazy?]
The second speaker (2) disagreed, saying that there are occasions where we must defend those who can’t defend themselves, and that if we wait for UN endorsement, we will wait forever, because there will always be some vetoes on every possible conflict. He argued that there weren’t enough interventions. Speaker three (3) said that since we don’t have a democratic society, thus we don’t have democratic control of our armed forces. Once we have successful national governance, only then can we partake in a valid global governance. And it will only be then that we have the right to legitimise intervention. I could see his logic, but I worried about the hundreds of thousands of people dying in genocides around the world. Then I worried about the people dying in the UK armed forces in conflicts that I didn’t agree with. Then the fourth speaker (4) started, and was deeply patronising but basically seemed to have faith in the concept that we know what is right, and we know what is wrong, and that we have a duty to defend those who are being treated cruelly. And it’s precisely this idea that there are universal truths that I find difficult. I’m just not sure I would feel confident knowing which side is right in a war that’s being fought on a different continent over battle lines that were often drawn centuries before I was born. But 4 was convinced: we are all suffering from way too much post-colonial guilt, we have to stop self-flagellating and get involved. It’s become politically incorrect to say that we are in the right, and so we do nothing while people die. I agree – it has become politically incorrect to say that. But I’m not sure that’s such a bad thing. [I’m going to have duck and pancakes tonight. But will I be able to fit in Singapore noodles as well?]
1 said that sovereignty and self-determination is a human right – other nations can’t make those decisions on your behalf. 2 said it’s a choice, then, between self-determination or universal human rights – you can’t have one or the other. How much self-determination is ‘allowable’? What if horrific cruelties are being acted out with women and children being raped? Is it ‘appallingly imperialist’ to say that is wrong? Sure, a lot of the values we have might have western origins, but that doesn’t mean they’re automatically wrong. An audience member asked us to remember that, although war kills, peace kills too, which I thought was a good point. How do we get rid of evil dictatorships if we can’t use force? But then pacifist 3 spoke again, using vivid images of civilians being bombed at weddings by allied forces, innocent children being killed at school. It does turn my stomach and it’s hard to justify. Maybe impossible. 2 agreed with 4, that the very concept of universal values is now seen as imperialist and wrong, and that he is not prepared to allow fear of imperialism to trump socialist values. Then 1 said that it’s this very self-flagellation that is making us go to war, not stopping us – we feel so guilty for having caused so much crap around the world that we feel like we have to fix all the messes. And speaker 3 said, I thought profoundly, that if something truly was a universal value, it probably wouldn’t need to be imposed. An audience member said that, who were we kidding, we only get involved in interventions when we have stuff to gain, like oil. [I fancy the guy in the checked shirt. A lot.] And patronising 4 said that you don’t get cheap oil from fighting wars, you get it from doing deals. The politicians aren’t trying to stay in Iraq and colonise it for resources, they’re trying to get out. I left the debate feeling none the wiser, but privileged to have seen such intelligent people arguing with such passion about a topic with such global significance.
Next – Rethinking Freedom: Rights or Liberty. There was a real sense throughout the weekend that we aren’t as free as even I might have imagined. I mean, obviously I have long been grumpy about the Nanny State, and I’m not happy about CCTV, and I’ve always been passionately opposed to ID cards, but there seem to be a number of stealth laws that have been passed that are eroding our freedoms in a slightly terrifying way. I’m wary of getting too Orwellian about it all, but these people were persuasive. The very idea that having rights (i.e. laws that protect us) removes our freedom is a contradiction that I hadn’t really thought much about before. The second speaker argued that rights and freedom shouldn’t be mutually exclusive but I’m not sure it’s possible to have them both. She was very strong about privacy, arguing that without it we have no political refuge. Agreed. Speaker 3 said, sensibly, that the state can, and should, guarantee rights – but it should also guarantee us a space in which to exercise those rights. A fan of rights and legislation might say that “the right to live free from poverty is more valuable than the right to live with freedom of expression.” 3 disagreed. Then the discussion turned to the BNP and freedom of speech, with 4 talking passionately about illiberal liberalism, where we’re heading towards a one-party monolith, an authoritarian, totalitarian state where there is only one acceptable opinion. It’s as if free speech is okay, as long as it’s liberal. He quoted Voltaire: “Think for yourselves, and allow others the privilege of doing so too.” The conversation about the BNP on Question Time then shifted to the BBC itself, which was widely seen as part of the problem, a state apparatus promoting government interests.
Speaker 2 said that the idea of universal freedom is difficult (as we had seen in the war debate). Civil rights as separate from civil liberties. Free speech vs. equality. Some say we need to repress speech that might offend oppressed groups – but 2 said she found that deeply patronising. We need to have the ability to engage in argument and debate. That’s where self-belief comes from. People only engage with civil liberties when the discussion affects their own civil liberties. What we need to work on is engaging their interest about the liberties of others.
An audience member commented that we have given up our privacy, and with it our sense of our own importance – we now feel powerless and we’ve lost confidence that our opinion is every bit as valid as that of the people who rule us. That definitely resonated. I too feel powerless. I have opinions but no voice. And even if I have a voice, I am deeply sceptical about my ability to change anything at all. [Woo! I asked a question and got applause! From a cool black guy wearing Sennheiser headphones!]
Then I cheered up in the final act of Saturday – a balloon debate between six revolutions, the French, Industrial, Sexual, English, Scientific and American. [The guy talking about the French Revolution is unquestionably very fit but I’m not sure about the way he’s pushed up his jacket sleeves.] It was all very arbitrary but in the end it was a draw between the Scientific and the Industrial, and the genuinely brilliant chairwoman had them decide it by an arm-wrestle. Science won. [It is unacceptable that she is so ridiculously intelligent and stunning.]
Then on to Sunday. Are you still with me? Perhaps not, but I need to get this off my chest. Topic one: the Human Rights Act. [Aw, the chair was introducing the speakers on his left and right and had to look at his hands and make an L in order to tell which one was which!] This debate was all a bit technical for me and I’d had no idea of the controversies surrounding the 1998 piece of legislation, but once again, it seemed to be a fight between rules and freedoms. As far as I’m concerned, freedom sounds alluring but the consequences of universal freedom are a bit scary when conflict seems like an inevitable by-product. Universal freedom is fine as long as everyone can sit down and debate things rationally, but given the inarticulacy of the planet (me included) when it comes to dealing with opposing views, a peaceful, free society doesn’t seem likely. Still, legislating for everything is certainly not the way to achieve the goal and the chair of the discussion (a lawyer himself) went so far as to say that the Human Rights Act had contributed to the death of political culture in the UK and that we have been neutered… That said, there was broad support for the Act in some form or other and all the panellists believed that it or something like it was important (clearly some laws are OK). [I think that guy is photographing me. Look pretty and clever.]
Second on Sunday: Mr Obama Goes To Washington. I have to admit to drifting off here, which was strange because one of the speakers was the Managing Editor of my beloved Prospect magazine, but he did repeat almost verbatim his article in the latest issue so I’m sure he could understand me drifting off. [Is the Managing Editor of Prospect magazine out of my league? I think probably yes.] The general thrust of the debate seemed to be that Obama had done pretty well in his first ten months, but could have done more, and the major criticism seemed to be that he defined himself as the anti-Bush, but hasn’t yet put forward many strong policies of his own. Is there are Big Vision? A coherent ideology? Surprisingly, not so much, and without a vibrant opposition against which to pitch themselves, they don’t know who they are; they know what they don’t want, but they’re not so clear on what they do. Obama consults everyone, but there’s a lack of conviction. Interesting. [I think I’d fancy him more if he had better glasses. The Managing Editor, that is. Not Obama.]
Then on to The Good Society: Virtues for a Post-Recession World. Four very different speakers made their points. 1 said that we are pretty much always in a post-recession world – the only thing that's different is how long ago the last one was. Either way, recessions are an inevitable fact of life, so we shouldn't really be bothering with trying to formulate particular virtues specific to now – there are universal virtues we should be thinking about, and they’re timeless. His belief is that what matters most to people is having a good job, and that consequently, anything we can do to create and retain jobs should be our first aim. Everything like charitable giving, good parenting and so on come late, once employment is sorted out. And the way to create this, he believes, is to be optimistic. Hope breeds new ideas, whereas giving up is the ultimate tragedy. We should concentrate on possibility and cultivate the will to achieve. Because “the pessimists are always on the losing side.” I liked that. Don’t turn against the risk-takers, he said – don’t over-regulate, bankers or otherwise.
2 was similarly aspirational, saying that to be a good human is to be active, to want to shape reality, to want to give something back, to refuse to accept the given world as given. It doesn’t have to be total selflessness – we should enjoy the beauties of the world because it is these that often move us to gratitude. I loved what she said, but disagreed with her that it is embarrassment that prevents people from aiming for virtue – I think the truth lies somewhere between laziness and a feeling of hopelessness, that we can’t make a difference even if we try.
Speaker 3 was fascinating in that he saw things from a perspective I’d never considered. He said it is commonplace to think of ourselves as living in an age of greed and selfishness, where our lack of restraint has led to this turmoil, where we’re all culpable and should all be ashamed. He said that this is the first time that it isn’t an elite getting criticised – this time it’s everyone, from Fred Goodwin, to the peasant in China who dares to buy a fridge, to the greedy low-income families who take out a mortgage they can’t afford. This has led to a feeling that there should be global restraint – loud calls for cutting back on pretty much everything, but, unusually, with no possibility for redemption as a result. We have to give up everything we’ve come to love, flying, eating meat, smoking, boozing, debating – we’re just evil consumers, users of resources – and we should turn this around. We aren’t just consumers, we’re creators, and we should be celebrating our achievements and looking to the future. We’re suffering from a lack of vision and need to regain the confidence that we can be problem-solvers as well as problem-makers. Decadence is a product, not a cause of the problem. Marx said we can create the new world through ruthless criticism of the old. We need freedom and prosperity to take us forward.
Then the wonderful Evan Harris MP was speaker 4, who launched an attack on the politics of celebrity. I’d been to a debate on Saturday where someone pointed out that an ex-Big Brother contestant is running for election in Scotland with the hands-up admission that “I know nothing about politics, I’m just going to vote with my conscience.” We need to have more political conviction, not less. But as Harris (or Evan. Can I call you Evan?) pointed out, we’re going to lose out to personality. “I don’t care about the leaders! Any of them!” he said, recklessly. “It’s the policies that count.” Refreshing but unlikely to make a difference. Sigh. [I think I want to be an MP.]
Yet again I felt simultaneously inspired and depressed. So many fantastic ideas, so much truth, but seemingly so few opportunities to execute these changes that need to be made so urgently. I stood up and said that there seemed to be a lot to be done and I felt truly hopeless and a bit like crying. Evan said I wasn’t the first woman who had said that to him and he did try to offer what he felt would be practical solutions: restoring inter-party democracy (presumably by bolstering select committees and by taking power away from the PM and the Whips) but expressed doubt that the findings of the committee he is, I believe, chairing, which will recommend parliamentary reforms, will be heeded at all.
Then downstairs to Is The NHS Institutionally Ageist? which seems to be a firm yes from all sides. It’s an interesting issue for someone who knows nothing about it (like me). There aren’t enough resources – so how do you issue them fairly? Allocating in response to need is fine, as long as needs are finite – but they’re not. There is infinite need. So then you start thinking about ‘meetable needs’ – but then there’s also the issue of benefit, in that you want to get as much bang for your buck as possible, which always discriminates against the elderly in that the cost of treating them is always greater and the ease of treating them is always less. Apparently the NHS has QUALYs, Quality Adjusted Life Years, and it basically says that the maximum you can spend to gain one more QUALY is approximately £30,000. This obviously discriminates against the elderly because their treatment is way more expensive as it’s way more complicated. They rarely suffer from just one condition, and their conditions are chronic and thus less glamorous and less well-funded and less well-researched than more prestigious (speaker’s words) illnesses that affect younger people. An audience member made the valid point that we live in an ageist society, and until that changes, there won’t be enough pressure on the health service to be any different. [I wonder how much weight I’ve gained this weekend?]
And finally, to What Next?, where panellists gave us the bees from their bonnets, what they felt were the most important issues for the coming months. And this was when the whole weekend came to life for me. Seeing the raw passion as each person spoke about the one thing they believe is most worth fighting for – it was inspirational and moving. James Boyle said that the most disgraceful problem in the UK is that every year the number of illiterate people rises. Even if you don’t care about them, he said, they are a massive drag on the economy. There is nothing more wasteful than uneducated people, he said: attack illiteracy.
Anthony Horowitz was incredibly angry about the Independent Safeguarding of Authority, the countless CRB checks that have to be done before parents can help out at their kids’ schools etc. Ian Huntley had been CRB checked, he pointed out. It’s pernicious, it destroys our relationships with children and is an horrendous piece of legislation.
Susan Neiman said that the split between religious and secular people is what needs to change the most. Religion is not the foundation of morality. But equally, secularists shouldn’t heap scorn on the religious. Whether god exists is beyond human knowledge. We should acknowledge that, whatever it was that created the world, it wasn’t me. So I have an incentive to give back for the gift of creation. A sense of gratitude is a moral emotion that will counter the sense of pessimism and misery. I am all for overcoming barriers between people (this is my main complaint against humanism, which I fear constructs more), so this resonated.
Katherine Rake, formerly of my beloved Fawcett Society, said that nostalgia may be all the rage, but it makes us fear the modern. And let’s not aim to recreate some sort of 1950s golden era that never existed. As an audience member later said: grow-your-own, make do and mend, it’s a return to domestic labour, and we all know who’ll be doing the majority of that.
James Panton spoke amazingly about the hyper-regulation of everyday life. We have a tendency to view other people’s actions as harmful to us. Smoking, drinking, photographing in public are all regulated. And sure, sometimes bad things will happen. But he hates the idea that, left to our own devices, we will cause each other harm: the inference is that we can’t work out a compromise within our community, amongst ourselves. So we legislate and regulate. We’re living life through license and it incapacitates us, but worse, we don’t just put up with it, we actually call for more. We’re becoming infantilised. We can take charge of our lives, we can organise these things for ourselves.
At this point I was squirming in my seat. How can we do it, though? Give me practical pointers, please. So I put my hand up, and the chair said, “Yes, to the lady in the yellow hat,” and I said, “I’ve been tremendously inspired by a lot of what I’ve heard this weekend. But I’m not in a powerful position. I’m not a respected journalist, or an MP. I don’t work for a think tank. I’m just a PA, a secretary, and I don’t know what I can do. What one thing would you suggest?”
James Panton said that I should refuse to allow people to control my life from above, and in response to Susan Neiman said, “I know that god doesn’t exist and I am sure that I create the world.” It was the most extraordinary sight, one human’s absolute certainty in his own power. I could have kissed him.
Susan Neiman and Katherine Rake said that I should think globally but act locally – believe in the power of the grassroots and do whatever I could to make as much change as I could, no matter how small it feels at the time. How do we raise the level of discussion when we have global media and other bodies that have a vested interest in keeping us stupid? We need to make ideas as fascinating as we can, as gripping as the latest MTV reality show. Let’s improve the way we communicate what’s important. And finally, that got me engaged. One thing I can do is communicate, and I agree that there is a huge gulf between the engaged academic and political class and the rest of the population. But I think I’m straddle the gulf. I like shopping. I worry about boys. I think I can speak to people and get them engaged. I just need a forum. It was food for thought. Rich, delicious, nourishing food.
And then Claire Fox, founder of the Institute of Ideas, summed up by saying that she believes in freedom, in freedom of speech, in autonomy, in humanity. That she is worried about the over-cautious, risk-averse nature of our population. She wants us to debate. To become better intellectually equipped. “Be idealistic,” she instructed. “Ideas matter. You can change the world. Human reason can conquer all. Believe in the capacity of people to change and to be change-makers.” I had tears in my eyes.
An extraordinary weekend that gives me goosebumps just remembering it. And then I went home and watched The X Factor Results.
Monday, 19 October 2009
Poor me, I've had it too easy
I've been delaying writing this because I felt like there was so much to tell. But then, as always happens, with a bit of objectivity, it becomes clear that none of the stuff I thought was important was actually very interesting at all. Nonetheless, for the sake of completeness, I'll record that, on Thursday I went to see Pixar's Up, in 3-D at the IMAX, and it really was as wonderful as everyone else has said. I have nothing to add to the thousands of other reviews, except that I want a talking dog. I cried within about three minutes of it starting and again at the end, and laughed my highly unflattering glasses off in between. Go. See. It is good. I defy you not to giggle uncontrollably at the Rotweiller.
On Friday I was all nervous because I was filming a thing for a thing. I'd spent a fair bit of time over the past week writing the thing for the thing, and I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. I love writing LLFF, but this was a bit different, there was a strict brief, and it was fun. So I went and read out the thing in front of the camera, standing on a green background, and there was a bit of laughter, which was gratifying. Then Justin and I went to Stephen Fry's book launch, and then on to a party given by the stars of the popular Channel 4 programme, Peep Show. I was so excited about this that I could barely contain myself. And I met the stars and that was fun. But what was awful was that, in addition to my friend Justin being invited to this party (as he knows one of the stars professionally), I also, unexpectedly, bumped into two other people I knew there. This was deeply depressing. It is a cool party. I know I am only one degree of separation away from the party, but that one degree is a gulf three times the size of the known universe. One of the people I knew was a guy from Uni, who now edits the Comment section of The Guardian. And the other was my friend Ben who works with Charlie Brooker. And so Charlie Brooker was there too, and Caitlin Moran, two people whose columns in national newspapers make me laugh with irritating regularity. And there I was. A PA in a bank. I USED to be an entertainment writer. And I'm sure in future I'll be something else. But right now, I'm a PA in a City bank, and when anyone asks me what job I do, I say, "I'm not telling you."
And it's so annoying, because my job has lots of perks. The salary, for one. The fact that, without it, I wouldn't have my flat, the purchase of which is probably the single most life-changing thing I've ever done. The fact that I get to arrive at 9 and leave at 5, on the dot, every single day. The fact that I never, ever think about work after 17:01. The fact that my boss is really very funny and easy to work for. And the fact that I have lots of time to trawl the internet looking for all the fun cultural stuff that I cram into my plentiful time off. Basically, my job rocks.
Except it doesn't, because it's not intellectually challenging and I'm assisting corporate greed, and there are no possibilities for promotion. And I want to be invited to the Peep Show party, not as Justin's plus one, but on my own merits. So I have to do something extraordinary. I can't just write any old book, or any old column. It has to be way more unusual, way more authoritative, way more cutting edge than even this blog. I know. And it pains me to face up to this, but I'm about as cutting edge as a sofa. My life is mainstream. I grew up in the mainstream. I loved chart pop - and still do. I like hanging out in pubs and nice restaurants. I like linen sheets and my iPhone and The X Factor. But, as I've grown older, I've also been aware of the dangers of the mainstream. My MA taught me a lot about consumerism and the way that culture can be co-opted as a means of control. There was never any danger of me turning into a genuine Marxist, but I found it interesting, and I gained an appreciation of the counter-culture. I stopped liking pop music quite so much. I bought more vintage clothing, partly because I really like it, partly because the synthetic fabrics don't require ironing, partly because I wanted to look individual, and partly because it's a way of recycling, cutting out the sweatshops. I moved out of South West London and now I go out in Hoxton with all the other hipsters, to bars that are strip joints Mon-Fri and turn into happening fifties venues at the weekends.
So far, so normal. But my problem is, most people I seem to be dancing with in Hackney are in their early 20s. They rejected the mainstream in their teens. I look at my competition on The Guardian's dating site and there are girls on there aged 23 who have a favourite South Korean film director, and list obscure Serbian photographers as among their most powerful influences. How the hell did they get to be so quirky so young? At their age, I was still going to see Britney Spears at Wembley Arena. OK, the tickets were free, but I can't deny I was excited. Always similarly gobsmacking were the number of people who were really very politically engaged when I was doing my BA. I could barely have explained what government did; they were up in London campaigning against atrocities in the third world while I was getting annoyed not to be invited to Jamie Double-Barrelled's party at Wedgie's. And of course, by the time they're my age, their tastes, their opinions are all so much more established. These are the people who are running the media and the think tanks while I'm write about make-up and boys and wishing I was less vacuous and more worthwhile without actually knowing what I can do about it. I am trying to fly the nest, I feel like I'm just about to burst out, but my little wings just aren't quite strong enough yet. If I'm very lucky, I'll be about 40% as good as Charlie Brooker by the time I die.
So what's left for me in the meantime? My old guilty pleasure: the mainstream. I could write a popular chick lit novel, surely? Or try to get a column in a major women's mag, and write about 69 Sexual Positions You NEED To Try Tonight! I could even attempt to get this blog published. But... whimper... it's not what I want to be known for. I don't WANT to be mainstream. I want to make a DIFFERENCE. Stamps foot. And that kind of middle-of-the-road activity certainly won't get me invited to the Peep Show party. So for now, I'll carry on revising, try to get as clever as possible. Maybe one day I'll have the editorial authority, the time and the talent that means I'm able to write about clever things like the recent super-injunction in a pithy, irreverant fashion. But in the meantime, you'll have to make do with me whining on about my absurdly fortunate life and telling you what films to see. Soz.
On Friday I was all nervous because I was filming a thing for a thing. I'd spent a fair bit of time over the past week writing the thing for the thing, and I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. I love writing LLFF, but this was a bit different, there was a strict brief, and it was fun. So I went and read out the thing in front of the camera, standing on a green background, and there was a bit of laughter, which was gratifying. Then Justin and I went to Stephen Fry's book launch, and then on to a party given by the stars of the popular Channel 4 programme, Peep Show. I was so excited about this that I could barely contain myself. And I met the stars and that was fun. But what was awful was that, in addition to my friend Justin being invited to this party (as he knows one of the stars professionally), I also, unexpectedly, bumped into two other people I knew there. This was deeply depressing. It is a cool party. I know I am only one degree of separation away from the party, but that one degree is a gulf three times the size of the known universe. One of the people I knew was a guy from Uni, who now edits the Comment section of The Guardian. And the other was my friend Ben who works with Charlie Brooker. And so Charlie Brooker was there too, and Caitlin Moran, two people whose columns in national newspapers make me laugh with irritating regularity. And there I was. A PA in a bank. I USED to be an entertainment writer. And I'm sure in future I'll be something else. But right now, I'm a PA in a City bank, and when anyone asks me what job I do, I say, "I'm not telling you."
And it's so annoying, because my job has lots of perks. The salary, for one. The fact that, without it, I wouldn't have my flat, the purchase of which is probably the single most life-changing thing I've ever done. The fact that I get to arrive at 9 and leave at 5, on the dot, every single day. The fact that I never, ever think about work after 17:01. The fact that my boss is really very funny and easy to work for. And the fact that I have lots of time to trawl the internet looking for all the fun cultural stuff that I cram into my plentiful time off. Basically, my job rocks.
Except it doesn't, because it's not intellectually challenging and I'm assisting corporate greed, and there are no possibilities for promotion. And I want to be invited to the Peep Show party, not as Justin's plus one, but on my own merits. So I have to do something extraordinary. I can't just write any old book, or any old column. It has to be way more unusual, way more authoritative, way more cutting edge than even this blog. I know. And it pains me to face up to this, but I'm about as cutting edge as a sofa. My life is mainstream. I grew up in the mainstream. I loved chart pop - and still do. I like hanging out in pubs and nice restaurants. I like linen sheets and my iPhone and The X Factor. But, as I've grown older, I've also been aware of the dangers of the mainstream. My MA taught me a lot about consumerism and the way that culture can be co-opted as a means of control. There was never any danger of me turning into a genuine Marxist, but I found it interesting, and I gained an appreciation of the counter-culture. I stopped liking pop music quite so much. I bought more vintage clothing, partly because I really like it, partly because the synthetic fabrics don't require ironing, partly because I wanted to look individual, and partly because it's a way of recycling, cutting out the sweatshops. I moved out of South West London and now I go out in Hoxton with all the other hipsters, to bars that are strip joints Mon-Fri and turn into happening fifties venues at the weekends.
So far, so normal. But my problem is, most people I seem to be dancing with in Hackney are in their early 20s. They rejected the mainstream in their teens. I look at my competition on The Guardian's dating site and there are girls on there aged 23 who have a favourite South Korean film director, and list obscure Serbian photographers as among their most powerful influences. How the hell did they get to be so quirky so young? At their age, I was still going to see Britney Spears at Wembley Arena. OK, the tickets were free, but I can't deny I was excited. Always similarly gobsmacking were the number of people who were really very politically engaged when I was doing my BA. I could barely have explained what government did; they were up in London campaigning against atrocities in the third world while I was getting annoyed not to be invited to Jamie Double-Barrelled's party at Wedgie's. And of course, by the time they're my age, their tastes, their opinions are all so much more established. These are the people who are running the media and the think tanks while I'm write about make-up and boys and wishing I was less vacuous and more worthwhile without actually knowing what I can do about it. I am trying to fly the nest, I feel like I'm just about to burst out, but my little wings just aren't quite strong enough yet. If I'm very lucky, I'll be about 40% as good as Charlie Brooker by the time I die.
So what's left for me in the meantime? My old guilty pleasure: the mainstream. I could write a popular chick lit novel, surely? Or try to get a column in a major women's mag, and write about 69 Sexual Positions You NEED To Try Tonight! I could even attempt to get this blog published. But... whimper... it's not what I want to be known for. I don't WANT to be mainstream. I want to make a DIFFERENCE. Stamps foot. And that kind of middle-of-the-road activity certainly won't get me invited to the Peep Show party. So for now, I'll carry on revising, try to get as clever as possible. Maybe one day I'll have the editorial authority, the time and the talent that means I'm able to write about clever things like the recent super-injunction in a pithy, irreverant fashion. But in the meantime, you'll have to make do with me whining on about my absurdly fortunate life and telling you what films to see. Soz.
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