Conclusions made by others

 

Subject: Conclusions made by others.









How in this fractured world today is it that interactions between people get out of hand so quickly and even more tragically, opinions and prejudice take over as we take sides. This morning a snip of a recorded conversation, played out in the streets of an American town slowly got out of hand as the authorities, in this case the police, answering a call from a neighbour, were responding to what the neighbour reported was a unknown black man on the on their neighbours property. The officer doing his job was responding to the call and from what I heard on the voice clip was respectfully asking for the man’s identity and who gave him permission to be there. The man it turned out was from across the road ad was watering the flowers in the garden as he had on a number of occasions. The conversation between the man and the trooper slowly became an issue of rights. The policeman’s right to demand answers and the man’s resentment at being interrogated for doing a good neighbourly act.

Of course this was only the cusp of what was going on in a country split into segments of prejudice, prejudice of all kinds and often motivated by years of a ‘them and us mentality’. Why this relatively innocuous interaction was broadcast on the national airwaves in this country has deeper implications following recently the shooting dead by our police of a young black man in London. Racial overtones immediately drown out rational conversation and we go down the familiar route of perceived oppression by one race of people towards another. Our minds having been soured by incidents such as the one in America concerning the gruesome death of George Floyd, into a cry of ‘institutional racism’ of which there is some but often highly coloured by the local conditions. In this country there are areas which are dangerous to set foot in at night made dangerous by gangs which themselves identify each other by their skin colour. The issue of even handedness when a black person is interrogated by the police, who are mainly white and who on occasions are over officious is a fact of life in that particular environment, they feel scared and outnumbered on the streets in a non white area and resort through fear to overbearing aggression. We all fear for our lives when threatened and because the police, having been hollowed out and cut back in numbers are now very thin on the ground.

The prejudice of racial intolerance is different given the age of the person being engaged in this act of intolerance. People of my age years ago experienced a different street experience in the city, different shops, different dialects, different customs and religious observance. Of course we also experienced many other differences so why, we must ask ourselves  single out the prejudice of race above all other. Intolerance be it political or racial, is a sign of the decay of social justice, something we hold important since without justice society crumbles away. There will be kick back to change, given the circumstances but it’s mainly consensual, depending on the environment, most of us seek alliances not confrontation but there are people who would prize their racial affiliation above much else. Are these people wrong or simply out of tune, is religious affiliation right and racial affiliation wrong and why. When we travel abroad and I don’t mean the overseas hotel experience where foreigners cluster together but in the streets of Kandahar or Timbuktu. Would we expect even handedness there.

This even handiness is patchy where ever you go, from the streets of Bolton and the prostitution of white girls as being lesser and not of the faith to the nimbyism of the middle classes. Intolerance of others is not only a white persons affliction but exists everywhere largely because we fear change and exceptionalism, change which largely hasn’t been negotiated beforehand. Even the word negotiated is loaded since often before negotiations begin, the decision  has been made and ordinary people are simply pressured into conclusions already made by others.

Discombobulate the people

 

Subject: Discombobulate the people.



Our future is with the collective but our survival is as an individual and so the paradox continues. As in private life so in public we profess to know the route we are on but because we clash with those who we should carry with us we are bound to fail. Only the powerful have the resources to be two things at once, only they can pay the piper and call the tune,  we must simply trail our coats in the mud looking for scraps amongst our past glories.

If we can finally summon some panache, some style, if we can stop electing dummies for leaders and settle our debts first before moving on to some new escapade. If we could remember more of Kipling than Kierkegaard “we would be a better man my son”.

Our lives are gripped by the straightjacket of slavish conformity, a perishable commodity if ever there was one, there’s no originality in our thinking only a constant reference to what others think, a sort of fear of our own shadow. The grist of who we are is lost in an accommodation of others, people who don’t care to thank us for our hospitality and only deny us the keys to the house when we return. Somehow we need to seek clarity for what we stand for and it can’t be a melting pot,  we have to have the strength to decide who are our friends and who the foe.

As the world turns slowly and we go through the movements of our requiem reminiscence the political movement seems to have shuddered to a halt with delay taken for action. Prime Minister Truss and her motley archers stand ready to shoot down our cherished institutions. The right to be heard in court, the right to protest, the right to see a doctor on the National Health, the right to ensue our BBC has full independence from government edict. The list goes on.  The challenges from the ‘right wing think tanks’ which provide Ms Truss with a teleprompter brief, a substitute for real  policy statements and the disestablishment of links to parliamentary democracy in exchange for cabinet diktat, ordinary people cut right out of the negotiating process as unions are further demonised, the safety valve from actual revolt tied down and the pressure allowed to rise. It’s all bound up in the Friedman/Murdock/Trump hymn book, the denial of truth and the rise of falsehood.

Discombobulate, the people and you have the fodder for what ever you want to do.

Blessed with good weather

Subject: Blessed with good weather



There is such sadness etched in so many of the faces of the people edging their way passed the coffin laying in state in Westminster Hall. For some it verges on grief and one wonders, as we did when Diana was buried why people who can’t have known the Queen seem so invested in her death. The anguish, with Diana almost hysteria', was palpable

 as the people openly crying flung flowers towards Diana’s coffin.   Now, sotto voce, the scene is more dignified in Westminster Hall as people walk passed the coffin in almost total silence. Big burly men, unabashed, wiping away their tears, the strained look on the faces of women, wing tailed morning suited attendants officiate, their breed mindful of the power they hold. Some, and our exclusion zoned establishment orientated society have always been keen to make exceptions, don’t have to join the queue but are given a platform opposite the coffin where they can come and go without actually mixing. Yesterday I noted Theresa May and her husband bucking that trend, endured the queue and filed passed with everyone else which I thought spoke volumes for this much derided Prime Minister. Derided by charlatans who gathered around Johnson in his passage to the job and the evil chorus played out by the evil press which denied her a fair platform or hearing. Perhaps her resolute belief in the church and its congregation has something to do with her preference.

The camera in the Hall pans along the faces as it perfectly references our multifaceted society. Old and young, tall and bent, all shades of the human rainbow, some in casual clothes, some resplendent in their uniforms decked with medals celebrating a life of duty to the Queen. Wheelchaired oldies who’s journey this may be their last but they are determined to make it. Teenagers who hardly know an earl from a viscount are also in the queue hypnotically drawn to the flame.

Eleven hours to queue and the queue winds for 4 miles along the other side of the Thames. Thank goodness we have been blessed with good weather. 

Nationalism, a good or evil

 

Subject: Nationalism, a good or an evil.

How do we and even, should we, counter the nationalistic urge to look after our own local situation first and forget the interlocking reaction that the ills which beset a nation are often are best combatted by a collaborative effort rather than a purely national one.

It's hard not to be tempted by Vladimir Putins offer that to stop supporting Ukraine and the gas will start to flow again. The history of Ukraine and its relation with Russia is complex, (as is our own with Ireland),  but resorting to an invasion of Ukraine always had the crude hallmark of the USSR written all over it and we have, at least in Europe put that nationalistic bully boy tactic behind us. Never the less the temperament and the ethnic makeup of each nation within the EU not always assumes collaboration and common goals. History and it's specific interpretation within a national debate is fertile ground for dissent and political point scoring. The rise of right wing parties within the national framework is the product of many things, for instance that the elitist concerns are not necessarily the same as that of the masses, that black and white solutions don't take into account unforeseen calamities if the delicate balance of interests is threatened. People can be weaned into value stances by extreme rhetoric and promises, as was the case with Brexit, promises unattainable but still held as possible by those swayed into believing in them. People are mentally fragile and seek assimilation in their goals by tuning in to programs and media platforms which give support, it's hard to listen to criticism, still more so to admit ‘they’ were right and you were wrong and it becomes almost impossible to support a plan of action when it begins to inflict pain on you. The strength of your support is usually measured in the actual concern and your reason for that concern.

People still deny climate change or the effect the melting of the ice caps will have on us and is dependent of their perceived understanding of its effect on them. People no longer believe in their elected politicians, other than in totalitarian states and so leadership becomes ‘opinion led’ which in the era of fake news becomes easily manipulated.

In an quasi idealistic world this fragmented opinion led democracy has the seeds of proper democracy where people will do their own homework and form their own opinions and the collective opinion should always best suit the majority. (Except where Brexit is concerned).

The long long wait

 

Subject: The long long wait.

Symbolism, deference, nobles oblige, patriotism these terms hardly fulfill the description of the people who on turning  the corner descend the steps into Westminster Hall after spending 16 hours advancing through the chilly evening for their moment of glory, a brief pause in front of the coffin, a bow of the head, a curtsy, a salute, if in uniform and then it’s over and they walk on away into the street where dawn is breaking and their anonymity returns

What makes people behave so, is it the compliance which made young men sign up for the horror of trenches in 1914, a compliance rooted deep within us to remove ourselves for an hour or two from the banality of everyday life and seek some sort of equity.

At five in the morning I don’t see the great and the good pausing on the VIP balcony, whilst, if truth were told they have benefitted the most from hierarchical privilege. They will come later when, after breakfasting and having read the paper the car draws up on the drive to make the transition an easy one. Not for them a flask of cold tea and a dry sandwich, instead kippers and scrambled egg, with coffee which befits their post and the obligation we owe them.

Today is the last day of this homage. At some time people will be discouraged from joining the queue and slowly it will wither away separating the people from their sense of belonging, returning to act out their lives in solitary compartments as bequeathed by birth. They will long remember the friendships formed whilst waiting, the stoicism of the people around them, the unflagging humour shared throughout the long dark night that sense of nostalgia and purpose which they can relate to their children when they get home.

And still they come

 

Subject: And still they come.







I’m still fascinated by the faces of the people who are still arriving in a never ending stream to pay their final respects. They are a census of the people who inhabit these isles. Old, young, fat, thin, worn weary and fresh with their lives ahead of them. They reflect who we are in 2022 better than the national census they are the living example of a society which has had hard times but also success. They are respectful of each other there’s no queue jumping no mocking no joking just a slow acceptance of each other and why they are here. And still they come, the aged unsure on their feet suffering their arthritis and a doggy back, the guys off the building site who normally wouldn’t give you the time of day for monarchy, the women wrapped in their discarded coat, the holy men in their dog collars, the Sikhs and the Presbyterians, and people of no religion shuffle forward. All creeds and colours of the rainbow respectful of each other in a strange symbiosis.

Would that we could bottle this mood and spread it around not only here in the UK but around the world a world which seems to be entering once more a fit of peek 🫣

How much more intriguing this montage or cross section of ordinary folk to borrow a line from the Archers. So much more interesting than watching the antics on Love Island or the game shows which invade our sensibilities each day on the tele. Real textured people, not contrived people who are continually on show but never reveal who they really are. A fabrication of our fabricated world, the synthetic ad man’s pallet of preposterous idealism.

The realism of the people paying their respects is what attracts me, their warts and all ordinariness which melds this country into the place it is.

Little children wide eyed not sure what to make of it all, hesitant searching a lead from big sister or mommy and daddy, aware of the gravitas and the sense of importance adults are attaching to this occasion and hardly being able to wait until they see their class mates to tell them “they were there”.

It occurs to me that the BBC could make a fortune selling bits of video as people file past like the official  photographer at a wedding.

The slow march home

 

Subject: The slow march home.

When in the 1960s I travelled to the far side of the world, many of the countries I was fortunate enough to visit, entry was gained by passing alongside many structural icons which reminded me of that little island in the stormy North Sea. The provision of docks, the means for ships to tie up, to be offloaded by cranes manufactured in Belfast and on the Clyde. Colonial Architecture abounded, buildings built to a standard and a style which saw light from the offices of political force that resided in that island, my home.

As a 12 year old boy I had watched, on television, the pageant which was the enabling act in 1952, for that almost unique process which ensures the quiet but respectful continuance of our governance. No storming of a Capital Building by crudely dressed popularism, just a quite tradition which helps us to link the past with the present.

People here are not demonstrating, whipped up by orchestrated comments on Twitter, here a solemn cortège draws passed, a silent procession marching to a slow march, only the sound of the tramp of boots on cobbled streets of old Edinburgh. The crowds pack the spaces, motionless, quiet as church mice hushed in reverence for an old friend.

The Queen had always felt more at home in Scotland, she seemed to like it’s people their gritty resolve, a little old fashioned but a fashion I’m sure she preferred.

Viewers around the world, some more used to Molotov cocktails and the smell of tear-gass when a change of government or leadership is required, must marvel at the sense and the gift we have of community and discipline. The sense of structure and orderliness is a long cherished trait of these islands, even now, as it’s composition is changing so quickly. We must relish that as we go forward into the Reign of Charles the III.