Nice bit of militant atheism, audio links at the bottom.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Dawkins
Sunday, 10 December 2006
A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu
Many thanks to JL for providing a very interesting article and topic fo reflection.
It seems to me that, in the popular sphere at least, Britain and America approach their history in different ways. The emotions evoked by consideration of the Past are by no means similar; for America the past is a source of celebration or, on occasion, grave disconcertion. For the British, and especially, the English the Past is either a weary burden or some rose-tinted nostalgia. The Second World War, for instance, seems to embody some lost spirit of community, the 'Blitz spirit', as it were, as much as the fighting itself. The English seem to have an unease, a healthy unease, of Jingoism, as shown by the complete indifference shown to St. George's Day. This is reinforced in schools where we are taught, quite rightly in my view, of the bitter anguish and desolation, as expressed by Owen, Sassoon et al., caused by devotion to some woolly notion of nation.
On occasion the hypnotic flames of Jingoism are rekindled - the Falkland Islands spring to mind here - but on the whole it is a reluctance to participate that seems to define Britain as a nation - hence our strong tradition of satire from Hogarth to Baron Cohen. Yet, despite this collective jadedness, recent years have seen a number of interventions, such as Kosovo, Sierra Leone and recently Afghanisatan and Iraq. These operations have some moral purchase, for a foreign policy based solely on pragmatic realism seems just as abhorrent as unrestrained idealism. I would not want Britain to trade and accept some despot or dictator as he commits unknown atrocities or to sit idly by as some country starts wholesale slaughter, as happened in Rwanda.
In the case of Iraq I do not believe in a Rousseaian notion of a 'people' needing to be represented, helped or indeed ruled. But I do believe the amplified effects of religious minorities have caused an unjustifiable loss of life. Nor do these minorities work in complete isolation, Iran and Syria not withstanding, I am mindful of Ian Kershaw's writings on Nazi Germany, on how widespread support and asistance needs to be, on how it was neighbourly denunciations as much as men in leather coats that sustained the Gestapo. The problems of Iraq are deeply ingrained, which it why it was foolish to think it could be acheived with a cheap and easy victory as envisioned by Donald Rumsfeld.
Perhaps it is indicative of a flaw in the American political structure in that it lurches in and out of policy choices with leaps and starts. The vacuum of power seems to require more troops, not less, and of all nations in order to provide legitimacy and prevent the characterisation of militias as anti-Imperial freedom fighters. Blair was right in this respect, for a UN resolution would have greatly assisted in this predicament. The balance was not struck between the energy and resources of America and the legitimacy of a wider global community. As it stands the Coalition seems as multilateral as the 1956 Soviet invasion of Hungary, where a couple of Polish lifeguards were tacked on to an overwhelming mass of Russian tank divisions. To effect worthwhile change requires either luck, or, more frequently, long-term investment in terms of resources, attention and willpower. The beneficial effects of democracy, I read somewhere, do not come as an enlightening flood, but as a slow, accumulated trickle.
It seems to me that, in the popular sphere at least, Britain and America approach their history in different ways. The emotions evoked by consideration of the Past are by no means similar; for America the past is a source of celebration or, on occasion, grave disconcertion. For the British, and especially, the English the Past is either a weary burden or some rose-tinted nostalgia. The Second World War, for instance, seems to embody some lost spirit of community, the 'Blitz spirit', as it were, as much as the fighting itself. The English seem to have an unease, a healthy unease, of Jingoism, as shown by the complete indifference shown to St. George's Day. This is reinforced in schools where we are taught, quite rightly in my view, of the bitter anguish and desolation, as expressed by Owen, Sassoon et al., caused by devotion to some woolly notion of nation.
On occasion the hypnotic flames of Jingoism are rekindled - the Falkland Islands spring to mind here - but on the whole it is a reluctance to participate that seems to define Britain as a nation - hence our strong tradition of satire from Hogarth to Baron Cohen. Yet, despite this collective jadedness, recent years have seen a number of interventions, such as Kosovo, Sierra Leone and recently Afghanisatan and Iraq. These operations have some moral purchase, for a foreign policy based solely on pragmatic realism seems just as abhorrent as unrestrained idealism. I would not want Britain to trade and accept some despot or dictator as he commits unknown atrocities or to sit idly by as some country starts wholesale slaughter, as happened in Rwanda.
In the case of Iraq I do not believe in a Rousseaian notion of a 'people' needing to be represented, helped or indeed ruled. But I do believe the amplified effects of religious minorities have caused an unjustifiable loss of life. Nor do these minorities work in complete isolation, Iran and Syria not withstanding, I am mindful of Ian Kershaw's writings on Nazi Germany, on how widespread support and asistance needs to be, on how it was neighbourly denunciations as much as men in leather coats that sustained the Gestapo. The problems of Iraq are deeply ingrained, which it why it was foolish to think it could be acheived with a cheap and easy victory as envisioned by Donald Rumsfeld.
Perhaps it is indicative of a flaw in the American political structure in that it lurches in and out of policy choices with leaps and starts. The vacuum of power seems to require more troops, not less, and of all nations in order to provide legitimacy and prevent the characterisation of militias as anti-Imperial freedom fighters. Blair was right in this respect, for a UN resolution would have greatly assisted in this predicament. The balance was not struck between the energy and resources of America and the legitimacy of a wider global community. As it stands the Coalition seems as multilateral as the 1956 Soviet invasion of Hungary, where a couple of Polish lifeguards were tacked on to an overwhelming mass of Russian tank divisions. To effect worthwhile change requires either luck, or, more frequently, long-term investment in terms of resources, attention and willpower. The beneficial effects of democracy, I read somewhere, do not come as an enlightening flood, but as a slow, accumulated trickle.
Saturday, 2 December 2006
Ikiru
'Living' is its meaning, before you ask, and it is the name of an utterly powerful film by Kurosawa. This film produces such a torrent of superlatives that the mere presence of any other descriptive grammatical form seems an infringement on all norms of decency that are purported to exist in Western civilisation. Kurosawa's best, certainly, perhaps even of all Japanese cinema, the most convincing pondering on the human condition, Shimura's finest work etc. etc.
A faceless bureaucrat faces the ultimate existential quandry as he becomes acutely aware of his own transience. A terminal illness wakes him from his white collar somnabulance and he desperately seeks to find meaning from his empty, wasted life. The product: Ultimately, as the memory of his death fades, only indifference. Yet, there is triumph as he succeeds in building a children's playground, despite a host of obstacles from co-workers, family, even the mafia. It has, arguably, an uncomfortable pessimism but is truly a great work of art. The climax of the film is the bureaucrat Watanabe's uncontrollable contentment as he swings in his playground. The end has resolution, unlike, say, the rather mediocre Broken Flowers, but it much more convincing that some saccharine conclusion of a Capra. Bergmar produced similar works but Ikiru has that subtle humour that just tips the balance in Kurosawa's favour. To my mind many paralells can be drawn with Fellini, which is indeed a good thing.
Upon consideration one would find this general period very fecund for a certain style, a weariness and distrust for the conventions that sat uneasily upon the populaces of the world as they were coming to terms with the scale and impact of the Second World War. There is a miasmic aura of disillusionment and Satre and Camus seem to be on the unacknowledged periphery of all significant artworks. In America think of On the Waterfront and The Pornbroker, the latter an utterly underrated film, the former more acclaimed but both deserving of the highest accolades. In the UK from the troubled mind of Hancock was The Rebel. Of course I could and perhaps should list more, but, suffice it to say that when the glitz and glamour become jejune in the public's eyes, when big budget producers run out of special effects, it is to these types of films, to this genre that they will instinctively look.
Or not, but they're good films.
A faceless bureaucrat faces the ultimate existential quandry as he becomes acutely aware of his own transience. A terminal illness wakes him from his white collar somnabulance and he desperately seeks to find meaning from his empty, wasted life. The product: Ultimately, as the memory of his death fades, only indifference. Yet, there is triumph as he succeeds in building a children's playground, despite a host of obstacles from co-workers, family, even the mafia. It has, arguably, an uncomfortable pessimism but is truly a great work of art. The climax of the film is the bureaucrat Watanabe's uncontrollable contentment as he swings in his playground. The end has resolution, unlike, say, the rather mediocre Broken Flowers, but it much more convincing that some saccharine conclusion of a Capra. Bergmar produced similar works but Ikiru has that subtle humour that just tips the balance in Kurosawa's favour. To my mind many paralells can be drawn with Fellini, which is indeed a good thing.
Upon consideration one would find this general period very fecund for a certain style, a weariness and distrust for the conventions that sat uneasily upon the populaces of the world as they were coming to terms with the scale and impact of the Second World War. There is a miasmic aura of disillusionment and Satre and Camus seem to be on the unacknowledged periphery of all significant artworks. In America think of On the Waterfront and The Pornbroker, the latter an utterly underrated film, the former more acclaimed but both deserving of the highest accolades. In the UK from the troubled mind of Hancock was The Rebel. Of course I could and perhaps should list more, but, suffice it to say that when the glitz and glamour become jejune in the public's eyes, when big budget producers run out of special effects, it is to these types of films, to this genre that they will instinctively look.
Or not, but they're good films.
Friday, 1 December 2006
Some corner of a foreign blog that is forever England: Britishness in the 21st century and why the experts are wrong.
The definition of 'Britishness' seems a very en vogue topic at present. Of course, I would trace its current manifestation to the easy, short-term political capital generated from the (seemingly exagerated) 'threat' of immigration. The difference at the moment is the Left's (well, Labour's) preoccupation with the topic. Labouristas have flirted with the rhetoric of xenophobia in their jockeying for position as Tony Blair begins to wind down his time at number ten. It is certainly an age-old and reliable technique that generates support from the right-leaning sections of the party and headlines in the Mail. Gordon Brown has his speeches on national identity and the style Jack Straw's comments on Islamic headwear seem an almost faint mimicry of Kilroy-Silk, and common sense dictates that any similarity with that man is something to be avoided if at all possible. It is a crude way of doing politics and no doubt will be discarded rapidly for its effects are only short-term.
However, the underlying question remains: What does it mean to be British? Some, such as Lord Tebbitt, believed it can be reduced to a 'cricket match' test: Who would you support in cricket match? Others, such as the Guardian believe it is a set of values, particularly individuality, liberty, inclusiveness and other such terms that sound good but generally become very vague and nebulous upon examination. I mean, it is nice to think of England as the home of noble virtues but we did have the Empire for a good long while, a great cause of oppression, chauvanistic nationalism and general snobbery. Such a definition is woolly and untenable under any intensive scrutiny. So let us take the politicians out of the picture and see what some historians have to say.
If one is to believe the post-structuralists, meaning is derived by a term's opposition to something else, thus, in the past, Britishness was formed by opposition to other countries, particularly the Empire; the stoic rationality of the British was shown by the effeminate barbarism of subject nations. Yet, previous objects of comparison, such as the greasy Frenchman or the lazy Irishman, no longer seem valid. [Note to self -finish this section later]
So what is the answer? Well, the solution is firstly to separate the nation from the state, for it is when the two are combined that problems arise. When nationality can be minutely defined by, say, ethnic critieria, then this legitimises processes of exclusion - tighter border controls, id cards etc. Conversely, vague, rose-tinted values are easily manipulated or used to justify any sort of policy - 'liberty' when spoken by a politician usually means free trade and/or helping out businesses, 'self-sacrifice' and 'civic values' means we'll be probably fighting in some war soon etc.
Far better to recognise nationality in the political sphere as just being a beaureaucratic boundary, lines on a map for administrative purposes, somewhat arbitrary but useful for sharing resources to citizens. Of course, this leads to organisations of a supra-national nature, but I shall return to the theme of cosmopolitanism at a later date.
And a definition of Britishness? Not questioning what Britishness is, not seeking to know its exact causes and forms, that is to be British. To assume the quality of Britishness just emerges from whenever by virtue of itself and accept that as a valid definition in others. If you have to question it, pin it down and study it then it disappears. I believe that is what it means to be British. Without wishing to sound too much like a slacker hippy: 'let it be'.
Hmm quoting Lennon seems to invalidate my argument somehow, I shall reexamine tomorrow.
However, the underlying question remains: What does it mean to be British? Some, such as Lord Tebbitt, believed it can be reduced to a 'cricket match' test: Who would you support in cricket match? Others, such as the Guardian believe it is a set of values, particularly individuality, liberty, inclusiveness and other such terms that sound good but generally become very vague and nebulous upon examination. I mean, it is nice to think of England as the home of noble virtues but we did have the Empire for a good long while, a great cause of oppression, chauvanistic nationalism and general snobbery. Such a definition is woolly and untenable under any intensive scrutiny. So let us take the politicians out of the picture and see what some historians have to say.
If one is to believe the post-structuralists, meaning is derived by a term's opposition to something else, thus, in the past, Britishness was formed by opposition to other countries, particularly the Empire; the stoic rationality of the British was shown by the effeminate barbarism of subject nations. Yet, previous objects of comparison, such as the greasy Frenchman or the lazy Irishman, no longer seem valid. [Note to self -finish this section later]
So what is the answer? Well, the solution is firstly to separate the nation from the state, for it is when the two are combined that problems arise. When nationality can be minutely defined by, say, ethnic critieria, then this legitimises processes of exclusion - tighter border controls, id cards etc. Conversely, vague, rose-tinted values are easily manipulated or used to justify any sort of policy - 'liberty' when spoken by a politician usually means free trade and/or helping out businesses, 'self-sacrifice' and 'civic values' means we'll be probably fighting in some war soon etc.
Far better to recognise nationality in the political sphere as just being a beaureaucratic boundary, lines on a map for administrative purposes, somewhat arbitrary but useful for sharing resources to citizens. Of course, this leads to organisations of a supra-national nature, but I shall return to the theme of cosmopolitanism at a later date.
And a definition of Britishness? Not questioning what Britishness is, not seeking to know its exact causes and forms, that is to be British. To assume the quality of Britishness just emerges from whenever by virtue of itself and accept that as a valid definition in others. If you have to question it, pin it down and study it then it disappears. I believe that is what it means to be British. Without wishing to sound too much like a slacker hippy: 'let it be'.
Hmm quoting Lennon seems to invalidate my argument somehow, I shall reexamine tomorrow.
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