The Syrian
crisis has legs of its own. For all the reasoned argument and debate
about the consequences of an attack on Syria. The questioning of who
authorised the chemical attacks, The spectre of Iraq and Afghanistan,
the claim that in similar instances chemicals have been used and the
West turned a blind eye, notably Iraq against the Kurds. Its hard not to
have to acknowledge that, as in personal violence, its the case, at the
end of the day, do you have the stomach for it.
Over here we have
just emerged from a marathon, all day debate in Parliament about the
rights and wrongs of the case and whether Parliament would authorise the
Prime Minister to follow the Americans and inflict specific targets
with missile strikes. It is a reflection of Tony Blair's mendacious
treatment of Parliament in the lead up to the Iraq War that has placed
the current Prime Minister in a position where he has had to ask for a
free vote in Parliament, which he lost last night.
Listening to the
debate one was struck by the continued referencing to past campaigns and
the uncomfortable truth that we went to war on a false premise and very
dodgy intelligence. The haste that the government wished to act, not
withstanding that the UN investigation had not finished its work of
proving that chemical weapons had been in fact used, was all too
reminiscent of the Bush/Blair debacle. As a nation we have lost some of
our self confidence and one could hear in the speeches a trace of fear
of the consequences.
The Americans on the other hand still feel
impervious. The cold war between themselves and Russia, with the
unimaginable consequences of an nuclear war are a long time ago and now,
indisputably the most powerful military force on the planet they have
the confidence not to feel threatened.
Europe has tied its energy to
Gazprom and the Russians could make our winter very uncomfortable if
they become peeved at efforts to punish Assad its one of the
consequences the Americans don't have to fear.
And so tonight Vice President Kerry has laid the ground for some sort of punitive exercise against the Syrians.
The
claim is that treaties, dating back to the First World War outlawing
chemical weapons have been broken and this is just cause for retaliation
and they will retaliate, sooner rather than later.
I wrote in a
recent blog about the early settlers in Australia and the hardships
they endured. I suggested that in this age of deriving experience
through our computers and smart phone communication that the tales woven
by Henry Lawson and Banjo Patterson should be on the prescribed reading
list of every youngster growing up in Australia. These people who
strove to open up the interior give a stark contrast to the values and
objectives that people had then, as a contrast to the relative ease with
which we live our life these days.
In England my generation grew up
and were encouraged to read about the story of Scotts expedition to the
South Pole. It is an epic in endurance, determination and strength of
character.Their equipment was very basic. Their boots nothing more then
tough mountain boots, their clothing simply extra layers of normal
outdoor clothing, the tent a canvas bell tent nothing more complicated
and more in tune with a winters weekend away in Scotland. Not the specialist
equipment which we see today with compartmental layers designed to
insulate and, available to anyone at the local sports shop.
The
five men who made the dash to the Pole (Scott, Wilson, Bowers, Evans and
Oates) are etched in my generations memory for their stoicism and
courage. Oates remembered especially for his courageous decision,
suffering from frostbitten feet and knowing he was slowing the rest of
the team down as they struggled back from the Pole. His famous statement
to the others in the tent as the wind and the snow was producing mayhem, "I think I will go outside, I maybe a while" was received
and understood by those in the tent as a suicide message as he opened
the tent flap and walked off into the white-out. The remaining men
struggled on to find their stores diminished eventually to nothing and
still 11 miles to go. And so they died, leaving behind messages and
diaries full of stiff upper lip expressions of fondness for those they
were leaving behind. Theirs was a time when doing the right thing, rode
above all else and the sacrifice of their own lives simply a price to
pay for doing something they thought important for King and Country.
The journey about to start was punctuated by a discussion. Could one buy a ticket on the other side of the track ?
I
don't think you can, I can, but what if you can't, I can well I think I
can, if you can't you will have to carry your bags around to the front,
if I must I will, but why chance it if you can go to the front first,
but I'm sure I can. Luckily there was plenty of time to digest the what
ifs and a text messages to say "she could", were a reminder not to argue
Plunking the gear down and casting around the carriage one
settles down for a short trip into London, a change of trains for
Swansea and a lengthy trip home. The trains, during the off peak period
are a really pleasant way to get around. There are many countries where
its a tour de force to compete with ones fellow passengers in cramped
compartments, without AC, the only ventilation through the open window
which, in the old days, used to bring in the grit from the smoke
trailing out of the steam engine.
The miles slide by, clickety clack the fields and hedgerows, the small holdings and towns clickety clack, clickety clack.
The
Severn Tunnel takes you into Wales and then by a twisting route to
Cardiff. Land of my fathers and the thrill of hearing them singing their
anthem on an international rugby day.
The diesel/electric lacks
the kudos of the steam train. The age of steam and these magnificent,
mechanically beautiful engines was something which went right to the
core of every lad who walked down the platform and gazed up at the
drivers platform. The driver with his wiping rag, leaning out of his
cab, the stoker bending down face glowing with the fire door open,
throwing coal into the boiler. Steam and a peculiar smell, a mixture of
hot vapour and oil poured out of the stuffing box and every other
orifice through polished copper pipes. The steam, raised in the boiler,
thrusts the pistons forward, which connected through push rods and
eccentric links to the wheels and made them turn.
The sound of a
high speed steam train rushing through a valley, in the evening with
sparks escaping out of the funnel the smoke trailing behind. If you
were lucky, the driver would toot the whistle and we would wave, a
momentary bond established which made us feel special as we cycled home.
As we teeter
on the brink of yet another war one is faced with the unpredictability
of how democracy throws up its leaders and how close we become to
placing people in power who should be unacceptable. John McCain has been
extremely bellicose in his challenge to President Obama's softly softly
approach to the trouble spots in the world.
If words were put into
action we would be scrapping all over the place, his mindset seems
predicated on teaching anyone not gifted with an American passport, a
lesson in American supremacy. Missile first, talk afterwards. He came
very close to having his finger on the button and there seems no way of
screening out this propensity for action in the system of democracy we
currently have.
Its no use saying we can vote him out after he has
annihilated the world !!
Autumn then
Winter then Spring, time flows, seasons come and go and we continue to
hope that our luck will turn or some excitement return into our lives.
The clock is ticking and we prevaricate as if there would always be
time, if not this time !!
So how do we become positive, how do we
make things happen when we have fallen into the terrible trap of
procrastination. I suppose one could compile a list of "to do" things
and pre-book ones time, tomorrow its Belgium sort of thing. That could
keep one busy but is it busy I am after. The sights and sounds are
always mixed up with events, unplanned, people you come across, tangents
to the plan as it were. When younger these couplings were attractive
and could lead you anywhere and everywhere, the only ingredient required
was stamina. Now that's one thing that is becoming scarce these days.
As the years roll by and a quiet cup of tea or an early night in bed is
much more attractive. Get the bicycle out and clear the airways, build
some muscle on that flab and join in with the more energetic chaps who
compensate for their early start with a pint or two at the local before
home and tomorrows train into town.
Stimulants are a short cut to
another sort of journey but induce a false impression that the journey
has a destination when in all honesty, its the end.
Perhaps with
Spotify playing my old favourites, transporting me back to when "I
could", with a fond recollection of how good it was, is all that ones
health and safety can guarantee.
The tent trailer was washed off in
readiness but never moved off the drive.
The appointment to look at a
boat to cruise the inland waterways was shelved by a heavy bout of "what
if" thinking and, lo and behold, another year has gone by !!
Who did they
believe they were ? Teenagers, out on the town,drunk and oblivious of
their responsibility towards the rest of society. Were they the "benefit
scroungers" or the "feral youth" from the inner cities, were they the
British holidaymaker unloved for their crass behaviour in Ibiza, no they
were the England Cricket Team !!
One wonders when one considers the
secure middle class backgrounds from which they were raised, where did all the
good parenting go. The hours of constant if mild discipline which is
directed at a child from its toddler stage of what is good acceptable
behaviour. Don't pull your sisters hair, don't hurt the cat, don't play
with matches, don't wee on the patio. We have all been groomed to
behave. Some of us do better than others but as individuals we sometimes
justify our bad behaviour with an excuse. There can be no excuse for
young men, wearing the countries official emblematic uniform to behave
as the celebrating cricket team did at the Oval. We have all been
"caught short" as the saying goes, without a toilet in miles and
we have to go !! Perhaps shrubs provide the privacy we
"instinctively" need, another throw back from our childhood training, a
training which goes towards obtaining the "civilised badge".
The toilets at
the Oval are not gated and locked. It takes what should be, inherent discipline, to
search for a toilet and fulfil the training your Mother thought she had instilled in you.
Perhaps the
conquering mindset sets its self on a higher plain from ordinary
mortals.
We often see it in the cult of celebrity, their outlandish
behaviour, where money insulates and isolates them from ordinary society
and the rules we all live by ?
These young men should understand that
when they were chosen to represent the country they become representative of
much more than the team. They represent all of us
and in doing so we should demand, in no uncertain way, that they
understand this !!
In "Wind in
the Willows", Badger was wise, he helped Ratty and Toad to overcome the
Weasels, the bad guys !! How has such a wise old fellow fallen foul of
humans that we wish to cull him into oblivion. Well of course the real
baddies are in fact the humans, it is they who will be obeyed,
irrespective of the cost. The bovine tuberculosis that is prevalent in
the Badger is spreading into the cow and infecting the herds. Its not
on behalf of the cow who is soon to be slaughtered anyway but on behalf
of the farmer and the income he gains in selling the milk and the beef.
Of course food is essential and the farming lobby has the backing of
the food industry which puts poor old badger in a tricky position, his
vote is much diminished by self interest. He could have entered the
immunisation program but of course the program was still born, too
expensive, too difficult and the badgers voice was drowned in the
convenience of a cull.
So we have the shotguns out at night looking
for wise old Badger, Ratty can't hide him and Toad is too self indulgent
to care, only the humans, well at least some of them have his interests
at heart. They our out roaming the fields attempting to disrupt the men
with the guns from their work. The media lampoon and deride these
lonely vigilantes, they are after all none conformists and that's the
last thing our masters need. To question the thoughts of the
establishment is inherently bad, not necessarily for us (in fact its
good to question virtually everything and form your own opinion) but for
the smooth running of the "greater good". Do you smell the pigs in
Orwells Animal Farm ?
We seem not
to learn from our recent history. As the war drums beat in certain
capitals to move against Syria I remember being fascinated watching high
explosives bombs exploding in Baghdad not understanding, as I sat in my
living room, the full implication of the death and mayhem attributable
to each explosion. TV sanitises all events, even the scenes of starving
children seem, as if its in a play, dished up for our viewing like a
soap opera. We are drenched with disgusting scenes and we become immured
to it all as we contrast our peaceful, relatively secure environment
with the horror on our screens and can not find an emotional bridge. As
the Twin Towers collapsed it was difficult to realise that thousands of
ordinary workers were inside the buildings being pounded to death as the
building disintegrated. We are in a Victorian peep show looking at
grotesquely deformed people who were on display to provide a wow factor
and make our penny entrance fee worth while.
Our leaders egging
themselves on like boys in the playground, daring each other to throw
the first stone, are gathering for a bout of long distance missile
throwing. Press the button and release a death on some poor bastard who
won't even see it coming. Like the generals of the First World War,
their orders from which they were insulated by many miles, resulted in
the unnecessary death of hundreds of thousands of innocent men who had
been drawn in to enlisting.
People the world over will continue to
harm each other. The stabbings on our streets, the theft and the fight
for each other's possessions are part of our genetic make-up to be ugly.
When a society, which is made up of many conflicting sects, tribes and
religions, becomes ungovernable, one can expect civilised behaviour to
go out of the window and, as we sit in our controlled plastic environment there can be no adequate comprehension.
One therefore, has to question applying our morality to others, regardless of the horror on our screens.
Nasdaq has
broken down and the screechy voices of the American network shrill their
excited messages, their world had come to a end !! Share market trading
has become so reliant on the massive computers that run the system
these days. The market mechanisms that trade on time scales and not on
human sentiment, fed by the actual position of shares and more
importantly on the companies that underpin the value of the share. The
guys that trade in nano seconds and build their day searching the files
for minute variables which have no bearing in the true value of a
company but in effect make a market out of nothing. It is the ugly face
of capitalism which disgusts the ordinary man in the street who works
and sells his labour for a minuscule amount when compared to the
billions made through this type of trading. And so a bit of software or
hardware has brought the game to a halt.
Would the financial world
melt down if we revalued our financial mechanism and began to exclude
various artificial trading methodologies. We might begin to reaffirm the
underpinning value of assets to money. The trillions of dollars that
now swill around with no method of equating the dollar value with any
other conceivable sense of value including the value of every tangible
asset held in the world !! Frightening !! Like the refusal to face
the potential problem of an ageing computer system, built and added on
to the existing computer hardware platform, turning away from reality,
hoping that it would keep going and one didn't have to take decisive
decisions.
How well we know the condition !!!
As the ExPat
climbs on board the aircraft to return home. He is conflicted with the
thought and emotion that what he now calls home and what he is leaving
behind, both were home once. As the plane climbs into the sky and he
settles back into his newly updated seat in Business or First he looks
out onto a fairy land of twinkling lights, pockmarked with dark areas
and only a strip of light designating the road between the villages.
These little pockets of civilisation are in fact communities with a pub
and shops, carrying on oblivious of the pair of eyes staring down,
wondering and if truth be known, wishing for another pint and convivial
company.
But the responsibility has passed to the new home which has
been created on the other side of the world. The children and friends
are in this new world, a vast place which when flying over seems empty
of human habitation, well not quite. The cities contain 98% of the
population, they are household names which fill our television screens
with bold pictures of symbolic architecture, iconoclastic monuments to a
society that thrives. But in those vast open spaces that lie below,
tiny encampments of tough people live their lives, not much changed from
when Banjo Paterson wrote his "Man from Snowy River" or Henry Lawson
describing, in such gritty detail the lives of the Drover and his wife
eking out an existence in lonely solitude. It should be compulsory for
all Australian children to read these epic tales of fortitude,
fertilising the open range with human endeavour making an embryonic
industry of sheep and cattle farming which have become the huge farms of
today with product labels known the world over.
These tough men and
women with their Aboriginal workers pushed the boundaries of human
endeavour, pushed the boundaries of deprivation, of loneliness, doing
without all but the most basic things in life for their love of the
Outback and the freedom it gave from the claustrophobia of city life.
Back to our ExPat, 24 hours later, cramped and a little ratty,
the passengers disembark into a sunny cloudless world of hello "Good to
have you back. What was the weather like" ? Carried along with the
swirl of genuine good wishes the car noses out into the traffic along
the familiar highway and into the suburbs. Drawing into the drive you
glance at the mail box and wonder at the trick of distance, a letter
posted a couple of days ago into one of those quaint red postboxes has
beaten you home. Its from Jim. The door opens and one finally feels the
weight of the miles slowly ebbing away and those dreadful suitcases need
carrying no more. Next year we must half the stuff we lug around.
It
is crazy to bring our wardrobe with us on the remote chance we may need
a particular piece of clothing. If push comes to shove, buy it there !
I
must insist to the wife that she cuts back otherwise "my back" will be
the problem!! But she is difficult to convince and since I end up doing
most of the carrying, seen from her standpoint, (she who will be
obeyed), will probably get her way and I better capitulate or suffer the
many slingshots of sharp disagreeable comment. Perhaps a few trips to
the gym will compensate ?
Lets put the kettle on, hit the button and fire up the computer.
Who's message is that, not another tome from Woody!
With Autumn
just around the corner there is a sense in the air of change. Nothing
has happened yet but it is as if nature was on pause as it contemplates
the change in the season. The excitement of summer begins to wane, the
intended break for a holiday is but a memory and we have the winter
months to contemplate. Its funny how the seasons mean so much to our
psyche. Hope and expectation as we emerge out of winter, solace as we contemplate the chill of winter and the dark days to come.
Time
is but a moment and we have to count those moments, not in any
spendthrift way, not in any morbid way but in an opportunistic way as we
avail ourselves of a thousand and one opportunities to recognise who we
are and our relationship with everything around us.
We could of
course embark on a series of journeys to look for ourselves at this and
that, we could catch a plane here and there. To land, to hire, to unpack
and wander out to see what is on offer. We have to be prepared for
disappointment whilst also capturing and reflecting on the special
moments. It is the unexpected that we remember, the not planned moment.
How
will we cope with winter. The snow, the cold dark winter nights ,
Christmas and a fellowship feeling that this period brings.
One can
escape to the other side of the world where the sun and the sea draw our
inspiration and remind us of our youth. Where at least 50% of the
occupants of the beach, (the ones wearing two bits of apparel), were our
constant thought and distracted the living daylights out of us. Its
unlikely that we would be distracted today, other than a cursory glance
but the imagery and the clarity of an open beach and the light which the
sun and water brings makes winter bearable.
Little of it absorbed, most reflected, shining a light into our very being, warming the cockles of the heart.
,
London is
such a mix of of sights smells, such a range of people doing their
thing. The tube is like a Jamie Oliver curry, full of colour and odor,
full of tired people imagining they are somewhere else with their eyes
glued to a book or snapped closed as they listen to their itune. Like
gargoyles on a medieval building the people stare at each other, unable
to ignore the person opposite yet oblivious to their reality. The hot
musty air that swirls around each station with each arriving train, the
clunking escalator climbing out of the depths,the people always in a
rush running up the escalator whilst we, folk with time on our hands,
hug the right hand side and press pause on our journey as we slow to a
mechanical status, the speed of the escalator. Out on the street the
noise of the traffic takes over the
environment, the constant wail of
sirens the irritated horn barking out its "get out of my way" message,
falls away as one turns into the pedestrian zone of Leicester Square. A
peace of sorts as one slows, looking for a landmark, a meeting place
amongst the chilled out people sitting in the street cafes. The rush of
the tube and the awarenesses that one has to practice when crossing the
road, falls away as we are delivered into this oasis of eating and
drinking, time stands still as the lunch hour turns into three and one
is left with the impression that there is no economic crisis and all the
gloom published daily in our news papers belongs to another world.
The
reunion in progresses, full steam as we catch up on so many years.
People we knew, events from the past and the news of today. Time flies
and the hours pass in a torrent of conversation, what happened to so and
so, where are you going next, how much ? As we push back the chairs and
say our farewells the thought of this ever so typical 21st century
global interaction, once every ten years strikes me that as we advance
in years. What will the next reunion be like. Will we then rather fill
the conversation with our ailments and how this will probably be the
last trip !!!
I was
listening to a lecture given by an American academic on the political
state of America today. It was an insightful talk given in the clear no
nonsense way Americans talk, a far cry from the twists and turns of
Anglophile speak, with its embroidered phraseology and the high value
attached to obfuscation. The lecture painted a wide brush picture of the
changes going on due to demographics and the polarisation which is then
brought by the communities that are being moulded through ethnicity and
social immobility.
The Republican Party is being forced into a
corner with its conservative views and seeks its following from the
established white population but not, significantly from the youth part
of the demographic. This of course is the section which is fast being
overtaken by the so called minority groups, Black, Hispanic, Asian and
will soon be a minority in its own right. The minority segment
collectively votes Democratic and as their vote grows then the balance
between the two major parties will be replaced with a de-facto
Democratic incumbent in the White House.
The important legislative
presidents in the past, Roosevelt, Lyndon Johnson, and Regan who passed
between them, many bills through Congress would have been stymied today,
much as Obahma is, by a wall of defiance from Congress. One of the
reasons is, as America polarises into clearly definable political
entities which colour a State red or blue the congressional leaders, who
ever mindful of their election base have no room to consider, as in the
past, the merits of a political case. They must keep in step with their
electorate and so the strength of the American electoral machine with
its checks and balances is eroded by tribalism and log jam. Without a
majority of at least 60% in Congress the Presidents hands are tied and
the embarrassment of not being able to secure agreement to get for
instance, the budget signed off is an anomaly that the rest of the world
thinks is crazy.
As the Egyptian crisis unfolds our
news media are scrambling for a central position in the spat between the
old school secular versus the attempted Islamic changes brought forward
by the Muslim Brotherhood under President Morsi. The
religious fervour that the Islamic politicisation brings is in sharp
contrast to the normal man in the streets contempt for the people in
power and the promises they bring. I suppose if there is little one can
do about the economy then to pursue the modification of society along
religious grounds is seen as change and with the new order the hope that
other things will flow. The
deep
rooted fear we have of the Islamification of the world we know, is based
on
centuries old concepts and bolstered by what appears to us as a
medieval dress code in our streets. It illustrates "difference" just as
we
seem intent on castigating our own people if they profess opposition to
difference. Conformity and inclusion is the catch phrase and yet all
around us people, as if from another planet, show their contempt for the
adopted countries values and traditions by dressing their women in what
we would consider outlandish, "coverall" clothing the men wearing
Victorian type nightshirts to walk about in the street. They bring the
values of the Middle East onto our streets whilst in many Middle Eastern
countries Westerners are required to severely modify their western
dress code or face arrest !!
Beneath it
all lies a very different set of values which, when push comes to shove,
is their underlying strength. The call to prayer and the binding
of community that such rigorous commitment brings, leaves us all fearful as
we sit in are largely, singular, insular, consumerist driven society.
One
phenomena that has grown up over the last ten to twenty years is the
plethora of heart rendering scenes from distressed communities across
the world. We see emaciated children, some through famine some in war
zones, frightened eyes surveying the fearful world around them. For only
£3 a month you can make this child's life better and who wouldn't fork
out £3 to help the little mite. But in our doubt laden imagination we
fear our fellow man and his cognizances, we don't trust the
organisations the charities that tell us our money will find its way to
the image on the screen. We believe we are being conned and even with
the best will in the world, the nation states that are host to the
tur
moil have little actual concern for the individuals under their care.
So as we see the inherent inequality and unjust nature of the human
condition, we look and do nothing, we are crowded with scepticism and
feel we are being duped. Years gone bye and we would have been ignorant
and our ignorance would relieve us our conscience. How do we make a
difference in a world and in societies who continue to add to the burden
by having children when in our view the conditions are simply too harsh
for child rearing. But if they had to wait for the conditions to
improve the race would die out. Its only by giving birth to many that a
few survive. Even as we improve the mortality rate we add to the problem
by overwhelming the scarce resources.
Nature provides the balance
necessary for animals to survive and although we see nature as a grim
reaper killing at leisure we feel superior to the animal kingdom and in
our ethical superiority we insist on providing our own answers. Its just
the implication that we are maybe enriching the wide boys, the
opportunity guys who enrich themselves at every turn.
Two laps to
go and he took the lead, he had had a tussle to get there but
determination to work the plan was imperative. Get to the front of the
pack and fight anyone who wanted to get passed him, meeting each spurt
of energy from his opponent with a corresponding spurt of his own,match
speed with speed,determination with determination,guts with guts. The
long distance runners high table of of nations Ethiopia, Kenya, Uganda
were all there hunting in packs, each of the runners capable of winning,
each shrouded in obscurity known only to hundreds / thousands of fellow
countrymen who can also run the legs off the athletes from countries
not associated with the African continent. Physiologically they seem to
have the Midas effect, carrying no weight on a slight frame they all
seem old for their age, emaciated from years of living under hardship
and a poor diet. Only the advance from walking, miles and miles to
collect the necessities of the family to running up hill and down dale,
day in and day out, year in year out, which for a few, a very few,
would walk onto the centre stage of a world championship. They know
little else, high altitude training, training to resolve the destitute
situation they were born into and with that pedigree, there can be no
failure.
Our adopted hero, Mo Farah spent his first 8 years in
Somali-land before joining his father in England. He has the physical
make up that his gene pool bequeathed but his face is not lined with the
hardship of his African brothers, he has his NI card and will never
need for any further glory.
They came at him as the bell went for
the last lap like raiding warriors (the authorities insist they leave
there spears at home) forcing the pace each straining at their personal
leash, held by the fear of going too early but it was becoming too
late. Farah has the gears to up his speed, to match what anyone can
throw at him and he did it with a majestic control that was a joy to
watch. I was on my feet urging him on shouting at the screen, living the
moment !!
As one sees
the various events unfurl across the world, the protests in Egypt, the
civil war in Syria, the lost cause of Somalia one is asked to consider
what can be done to bring the violence to an end. The United Nations
utters platitudes, the powerful nations look to the future and the
advantage that can be gained by supporting one side or the other, and
there is much whimpering from nations that have no influence.
In
years gone bye the violence would have been enacted out of sight and
only after weeks or months, would carefully scripted texts be drafted
through diplomatic channels onto the worlds media which consisted of
newspapers and little else. The turbulence we see on our screens today
and the questions which pour forth into our consciousness were tidied
away in a crafted sentence. Our opinions are now sought and in our
living rooms we have to come to a view, who is right who is wrong.
Since
we hold only a skimpy concept of the divisions which lead people to
fight and die in front of us we tend to fall back on the default
position - "all violence is wrong". Particularly in this country we have
been weaned off any sort of instant reaction and must content ourselves
with continually turning the other cheek, bottling our anger and hoping
that the authorities will find a way to settle our ire. In our
strongly feminised, feely society we abhorrer the quick lay it all out
with an old fashioned punch up and prefer to ingest the damage to our
ego with a glare and maybe a lawsuit. How much pent up indignation lies
in our traumatised society where language and opinion has been curtailed
and we continually dance on the head of a pin to avoid stepping outside
our controlled, politically correct society. The intense contra opinion
of warring groups is at another level but it all illustrates the fine
line that humans can be marched towards, when suddenly, leadership
looses control.
As the
Egyptian drama kicks off again and the streets become awash with tear
gas and badly injured people carted away to makeshift hospitals. This is
an event that has been incubating for weeks as the ex president Morsi
supporters camped in a number of areas in opposition to his arrest. We
now have the hard-liners in the Army backed provisional government
coming out on top and clearing the streets of the largely Islamic
supporters who gathered under the banner of the Muslim Brotherhood.
When
the military rule of Mubarak was defeated and elections held, it was
always difficult to have a proper balance since there had been no
democratic government for decades and political parties were none
existent, except for the Muslim Brotherhood who as a religious group
were quasi political. Their organisation gained an election win,
although as in all democratic elections, the government formed, only
represented a section of society.
The difficulty arose when the
Islamic party began to change their stance and began to forward an
Islamic agenda. It was this clash of values between Islamic and
none-Islamic sections of society, that initially, when Morsi took over
was believed to be inclusive and would take all shades of opinion into
consideration. As he became more confident, Morsie began to challenge
the constitution and the political hegemony that had brought him to
power.
The people eventually turned out on the street and we saw the
amazing sight of millions throughout the country move and demonstrate
on the street. The threat of open conflict between the anti Muslim
Brotherhood and the pro Muslim Brotherhood ensured the Military take
control and after repeated attempts to persuade President Morsi to
moderate his position he was eventually put under house arrest. It was
also inevitable that the Military would move against the Morsi
supporters camped in the street and this morning they moved in.
Behind
the scenes lie the power brokers in the Middle East. The sects and
monarchy's that have enormous power and influence through their oil
money, play a role in many disturbances throughout the Middle East and
of course, make the area very inflammable.
As President
Putin sits uncomfortably on stage with the equally uncomfortable
President Obhama there is a cultural schism between them that has been a
gulf between not only the Russian nation and the USA but between the
Slavic experience which represents the reality of their life and the one
we, the nations in the West have embalmed ourselves in.
The
American dream was an export that was designed to encourage a lifestyle
through which, capitalism flourished. The values that were consumed by
the nations of Europe. The house as a symbol not just a home, the car to
signal how well we had done in the money accumulation scheme, the dress
code and the holiday destination was all part of the consumerist
package that we mistake for life's purpose. Capitalism had provided, for
a few, untold riches and for the many, the dream to be there.
Russia
under Communism and, before communism, under the Autocracy of the Tsar
and the ruling establishment dealt a hand to the majority, of austerity
and hardship. The years of eking out basic survival under harsh
conditions has toughened the mind of the Slavic character to the extent
that the bourgeois ideal is not a concept that their equivalent in
Russia can come to terms with. Concepts which underpin the thinking
within a society are the basis for the actions of the leaders of that
society.
The Germans for instance are a complicated, single minded
success by uniting and subjecting the personal for unquestioned strong
leadership.
The French question their leadership and philosophically pronounce their independence on everything.
The
English, having been protected as an island race, remain in their
adolescence, not having had to face the sharp edge of history, their
understanding is, everything is possible.
The Americans have yet to
reach adolescence, like children they demand attention expecting that
money will buy what they desire and are dangerous when denied.
The House of
Lords is a debating chamber, like the House of Commons and the business
of debate is heard at its best in the House of Lords.
Debate and
the use of language is one of the main things in humans that has allowed
the condition of human beings to move forward. We listen and we learn.
We pick up information and we absorb the information to add to what we
already know with the new. Peoples opinions are held of high value in
the process of civilising our understanding of the people who sit to the
right and the left of us. We, are children of our own background and
our own prejudiced, our position on any subject is arrived at by the
effect of our own experience or, the experience of people we respect and
it is in debate that we learn from others, what their views are.
There
seems today, to be an impediment or an unwillingness by society at
large to engage in meaningful debate because people have lost confidence
in their political masters and the Houses in which the business of
politics is carried out. People today although much enhanced with
communication into the essence of politics are constrained to sound
bites and the restriction of, performance over substance.
The
clearer an insight into anything the more questions arise, The
unhappiness in their political condition of different segments of
society has been the norm for decades and is the natural outcome,
depending on your position in society and the attention a government
brings to bare on that condition.
As we have become more self
cantered with the importance of consumerism taking hold of our senses
and we build a life on debt, fuelled by unlimited credit our view of
belonging to society at large has diminished and with it our interest in
the political condition of those around us. There was a time when
people took a keen interest in politics and politicians. They had faith
in the workings of Parliament and would identify with the ideology of a
party in so far as the party represented the interests of that segment
of people. Today as politicians fight for the central ground where the
marginal voters lie. The issues become opaque to most voters and it is
in listening to detailed debate, particularly in the House of Lords, can
one round out ones own political opinion and in doing so become a more
rounded human being. something worth attaining I am sure you will agree ?
