Winter has arrived. I returned to Lincs from a lazy, indulgent family Christmas with my kind hostess of a sister, Michelle and my elder son Steve, to find snow when I got to Spalding. This was the snow that knocked out Yorkshire at the end of the year. We must have been on the Southern edge of that snowline. There wasn’t much, just enough of a sprinkling to make the fields look pretty.
I have
mentioned before that while I’m only 120 miles North of you, here at the start
of the East Midlands, about level with the Wash, it is generally about five
degrees colder than Essex. In the week that followed the snow, the temp stuck
around freezing so everything remained peacefully white, including the golf
course which had to be closed.
With
plenty of food in the house, I hibernated and took the opportunity to update my
golf web site for the photos from last September’s tour. As there were over 300,
it took a while; pretty courses and old men behaving like children, such is our
week away. This was our 40th year.You know I like playing with software and Dreamweaver makes putting up web pages easy. Consequently, it was no hardship to be stuck in a warm study, playing with this toy till the weather softened. Today, the backlog of photos is cleared and other dragons line up for slaying.
The first
that presents itself naturally at this time of year is ‘What New Year’s Resolutions…?’
Last year, the principal one was to write more of my novel. I failed
- spectacularly, comprehensively, resoundingly. I wrote a bit but not nearly enough to claim a gold star. The
novel has progressed - at a snail’s pace and remains at the ‘setting the scene’
stage. Principal characters are in
place, threads of threats, spectres of sub-plots and glimpses of intrigue have been spotted - but I am
reluctant to claim any sort of real progress. The story itself remains
steadfastly in my head. Let’s see if this year brings more joy.
Talking
of novels, I’ve just finished a great book. It is called The Humans - by
Matt Haig. It’s about an alien from an infinitely superior species who maintain
harmony in the Universe. The alien kills and then assumes the body of a maths
professor who has made a discovery that will allow humans to make great advances
in technology. However, the aliens see humans as immature and not yet ready for
this technological jump so they send one of their kind to assume his identity
and kill anyone that he may have told about the discovery, keeping this advance
for a time when humans are more civilised. Being a much older race, they have infinitely
superior technology and abilities including mind control so all these killings can be made to
look like accidents or suicide.
While
initially, the alien agrees with the assessment of how backward the human race
is; our preoccupation with sex, possessions and the folly that appearances
matter, he discovers our other dimensions like the feelings that are stirred by
music, stroking animals, love, poetry, appreciation of sunsets and the myriad
other nuances that take your breath away when you see them for their emotional contribution.
These subtleties had been left behind thousands of years ago by the ‘superior’
race who exist for mathematics and pure, unemotional logic, rather like the
Vulcans of Star Trek stories.
The book
is a very readable story conveying its social observations easily in criticism
and in praise of the human race. Expressed in simple terms, it shows us in a
poor light - but then as Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel
inferior without your own concurrence.” It was not hard to agree with the
criticisms of the behaviour and attitudes of the masses.
The
illustrations of our shallowness, hypocrisy and double standards are hard to
ignore as they are so simply put. For instance, magazines that are devoted to
the many ways to achieve orgasm and the adoration of unknown celebrities. We justify taking life
via wars, trying to make them about freedom, liberation and democracy - when they’re
really about killing for power and wealth. We race towards the next transient
fashion or electronic gadgetry without questioning if it improves our lives or
complicates it - without assessing the benefit. In short, few people look
beneath the surface of any behaviour, accepting the story offered by the media, church or government.
At the
same time, our sensitivity, basic goodness and caring side is also described
eloquently. The book is a wonderful reminder of our finer qualities; qualities
that are overlooked, taken for granted or mocked in an age where ‘cool’ is
valued more than decency, honesty and sensitivity. If you like a well-written
story that will make you examine how we live today, I recommend it.
On the subject
of our shallowness, the recent Charlie Hebdo incident raises a number of aspects
of the human race that is so roundly-scorned by the alien race mentioned above. The day it
happened, I saw Martin Rowson (cartoonist with the Guardian), arguing indignantly
that he is ‘licensed to give offence’. No he’s not. This is a delusional, self-awarded
licence. In that same interview, he ‘found it offensive’ that people responded
with violence to cartoonists who have mocked their beliefs. That seems
pretty strange. Apparently, he can give offence but should be immune from being
given offence - and should be allowed to dictate the manner of a response to
his mocking.
This
week, a member of the Oxford (football club), board was threatened with the
rape of his daughter if they sign Ched Evans. Nine years ago, Swedish referee
Anders Frisk gave up refereeing due to the death threats he got from Chelsea
fans for sending off Didier Drogba. Trolling, threats of violence and death
threats, are a natural, everyday reaction in the 21st century – to
something you don’t agree with. This is the way of today’s world.
Journalists
and members of the public are arguing for ‘the freedom of the press’. Wouldn’t
it be nice if that were a fact of life? But it’s unrealistic. Julian Assange and Edward Snowden don’t seem to have achieved
it. I understand that national security needs to be protected but how are we to
know when such censorship is for a sensible, practical reason or when it is to hide
the mistake or illegal behaviour of a politician, civil servant or government
depart?
Freedom
of speech is an admirable aspiration but it doesn’t exist. How many
times do you hear sheep bleating “Ooh! You can’t say that!” as if they have
spotted something you hadn’t realised before you (deliberately) made a contentious
remark?
The Klu
Klux Klan would love to have the freedom to use the “N” word to give offence.
Eastern European football supporters would love to be able to throw bananas at
the black players of visiting opponents - who they see as inferior beings. The
Far Right would love to enjoy unrestricted licence to air their views on
anti-Semitism, white supremacy and immigration.
Political
Correctness forbids freedom of speech. That is the law. ‘Isms’ thwart free
expression. Sex, Age and Race take the podium positions but anything you don’t
like the sound of – stick a label on it, add an ‘ism’ suffix - and you successfully
block freedom of speech. Freedom of Speech versus Political Correctness; I
watch this Clash of Titans with interest.
Taking it in the context of today’s news, while it is good to see so
much public support for freedom of the press, freedom to mock another’s God without
consequence will never fly. It’ll always be resented however civilised the
listener pretends to be. It’s human nature. And when the person you’ve offended
carries a gun, you can’t expect a civilised debate by way of a response. The
idea that you can mock without consequence, is to ignore how strongly people feel
when you ridicule their values. You’re saying that their judgement is flawed.
It was
unrealistic of Rowson and the other journalists arguing for the carefully-vague
‘Freedom of Speech’, to expect to dictate the terms of the response they may
expect. That’s just not human behaviour, especially in the matter of religious
offence.
Look at
history: Catholics killed and tortured freely during the Inquisition. Henry
VIII and Elizabeth I killed and tortured Catholics when establishing the
Anglican Church. Elizabeth’s older sister Mary and her cousin Mary Queen of
Scots killed Protestants when they could, to re-establish the Catholic faith. In
India in the run-up to Partition, Muslims and Hindus killed each other in the
name of their religions. History is littered with the practice of killing
people who don’t share your view of God. And of course, it still goes on today.
Within living memory, Catholics and Protestants killed each other in Northern
Ireland and violence still erupts when the route of a faith-based march is
planned - principally to rub the noses of the other party in it.
Humans
are gregarious animals. Yes, there are a few mavericks who walk alone - but in
the main, most like to feel part of a herd whether it be a nation, a religion
or a football team. When people attack your herd, the response is ‘a strong
reaction’, in this day and age, more than likely a violent one especially when
it’s a matter of mocking beliefs and the icons on which they’re founded.
I
continue to watch this debate and marvel at how naive people can be to believe
they can deride another’s beliefs and expect to dictate the manner of the response.
One last point - I have heard journalists claim that their mockery is not
directed solely at Muslims but they have mocked other religions too. Now that is
dumb.
My
understanding of these matters is that for the majority of religions (apart
from the Hindus) there is one God and your view of that entity, will
change according to whatever religion you follow. Effectively – most religions
agree - there is ONE GOD, just several (man-made) interpretations. Having
worked in Accounting for close to 50 years, numbers impress me so it seems likely
that one of these interpretations may be right. Therefore, insulting all
the shades of God that are on offer, sooner or later you must insult the one
that matters, the real one.
When that
happens, if I were Him, there would be some smiting going on by way of My response.
Take the piss out of Almighty Me and I’ll make you suffer in ways that would
make Quentin Tarantino wince. If I can create the Universe with all its
complexity and mystery – our galaxy with its estimated 200 billion stars and
then 100 billion other galaxies, dark matter, anti-matter, black holes, alternative
universes, strings, quarks and quacks that don’t echo… If I can dream up all of that and then make it happen without breaking sweat, be prepared to suffer
for all Eternity - and that’s just for starters. As you see, I don’t subscribe to
the notion that God is all about forgiveness. While that would be nice if it were
true, not sure I’d want to bet the farm on it. He has form for doing a fair bit of smiting, sending floods and plagues of locusts. Not sure I'd want to cross anyone who shows this much imagination in the matter of retribution.
Another
good laugh on the news at the moment is David Cameron trying to dodge a party leaders’
debate. How transparent is that? Thinking that anyone will fall for his excuse
is as arrogant as Andrew Mitchell’s outburst at the gates of Downing Street. Cameron
is a poor speaker and not that bright. His tight-lipped earnestness is
guaranteed to bring a smile in its kindergarten attempt to convince the cameras
of how serious he is. Only a politician would not see how silly he looks.
Osborne, Gove and Hague, while eminently dislikeable for more
reasons that you will find in The Big Book of Reasons For Disliking People, regularly
outperform him but he still insists on speaking in public as if he’s a leader. Yes,
he has the job – but beyond that – what is there?
None of
this matters of course, what’s really important is that as with the above piece
about the Charlie Hebdo incident, where acts of terrorism have unwittingly and
unpredictably precipitated a clash between Political Correctness and Freedom of
Speech, in this case the informal political Premiership of Labour, Tories and Lib Dems
now seems destined to fold. Who saw that coming?
While
Cameron holds his ground to insist on the Greens inclusion, knowing full well
that’ll bring headaches for the TV companies, the other parties want to go
ahead with the debate – with an empty podium to remember absent friends. Or, if
having included the one Green and two UKIP MPs, as they have more MPs, they’ll
have to bring in the 13 Northern Irish, six SNP and three Welsh MPs as well. So
a bit of chicanery by Cameron is about to end the three party Old Boys’ Club.
Once the genie is out of the bottle, good luck getting that one back in.
Without much effort, this has been three pages of Much Ado about Nothing. I touched on
New Year’s resolutions and got as far as Number One.
That was
followed by aimless ramblings about two of today’s news items. I suppose a NY Resolution
could be to get to the point - but why? I’ve never seen the merit in this.
What’s the rush? We’re only heading towards death. Do we want to charge towards
it? Let’s slow the journey and enjoy the view.
I do
however, have a second resolution - which is to take journalists’ advice to
mock and ridicule a bit more. I’ve just been watching a video of my hero
Frankie Boyle. He and Jimmy Carr and amongst my favourite comedians as they
seem to have no boundaries and are not intimidated by the conventions favoured
by the masses. And while these two are heroes, I prefer to be less direct.
When I
wrote the newsletter for the Lisbon Casuals, I avoided toilet humour because of
its crudeness. That standard endures. I’m not in favour of bad language in
these letters and that will not change. I’m not claiming I don’t swear. Those
of you who have spent time with me in a bar will know that although drink
clearly doesn’t affect me, the Basildon Boy rises like a phoenix from the ashes and colourful
speech trips off the tongue more naturally as the evening progresses. This is a
by-product of my upbringing where I am now slow to notice such slips. My point
is more that I will try to be irreverent by implication rather than ‘in yer
face’, which I regard as clumsy and frankly lazy penmanship. Hopefully, you
will take a moment to realise the humour in my remarks, presented drily as
ostensibly serious comment. Those who know me will spot this. Those who think I
am making a serious remark will be disappointed in me; a cross I must bear.
I have
little time for people who are pedantic and who see words literally. I think in
terms of concepts and speak figuratively; always have. I look beneath the
surface and not at any situation at its face value. The chances of that
changing now vary from zero to Nil.
I also
like to lie. A great man once said “Frankly Claude, life is too serious a
business to be taken seriously.” That was Rumpole of the Bailey. While a
fictional character, wise beyond his already substantial years. This is a
worthy mantra.
Take a series of irreverent comments,
presented drily, wrapped in lies and you have the template for future Letter
From Lincs. In the next letter, I will tell you about my ghost. I share this
bungalow with someone/something? It’s not nasty or scary, quite helpful in
fact. Doesn’t make the tea or anything but helps me find lost items, that sort
of thing. Occasionally playful - but not on the tenancy agreement. I hope the
Letting agency don’t find out about it. They may charge more. I’ve wondered
whether to mention it for a while. It started in Keysland and seems to have
followed me here. Do they do that? I’m not sure of the rules. Anyway, more in
the next letter.
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