Monday, October 29, 2007

Two more cheers for Michael Moore

The other day I saw Michael Moore’s Sicko. Much like Bowling for Columbine and Fahrenheit 911: very telling, very sympathetic, very funny, very good at generating anger – and then it stops. I enjoyed it while it was on, but it still left me feeling impotent.

I suppose this is the dilemma of the American Left. Even by the wretched standards of the European Left, the complete absence of any serious analysis of the underlying problem undermines any organised action by the very mass of people to whom Moore rightly appeals. So how does he do it? Having kicked off his documentary by pointing the finger at exactly the right people – corporate capitalism, the fundamental contradiction between the interests of a vast, uncontrolled businesses and the health of the very people they allegedly serve, and a government that still believes the fantasy that what is good for business is good for America, he concludes with a sentimental appeal to Americans’ better natures. ‘What sort of people are we? Do we want to be like this?’ and so on and so forth.

Perhaps it is a necessary step, given the poverty of American politics. Or perhaps it shows how the American Left is fundamentally flawed. I wish it were the former, but I suspect it is not.

But in what sense is the European Left any better?

Saturday, October 27, 2007

Speak roughly to your little boy

I see that the UK government is again vacillating absurdly on the topic of corporal punishment. Apparently Brown and co. are happy for children to be beaten by their parents. As the father of two teenagers, I can well appreciate this problem: sometimes I think beating children should be not so much permissible as compulsory.

But the paradox for supporters of violence against children remains obvious: one day our offspring are so threatening and so inured to reason that only physical violence will stop them running amok, and the next day they can vote. It is hardly a sensible state of affairs.

So what should we do about it? The answer seems obvious: stop limiting the people we can beat to children. If any reasonable person (e.g., the person who wants to beat them) would conclude that someone who is too weak and vulnerable to resist deserved a good beating, let them have it!

Of course, these things need to introduced progressively. So let us, say, raise the age at which a child may be beaten to 30. Individuals who are able to defend themselves may require special treatment – e.g., manacles, gang assaults, and so on – but I am sure that the police (or perhaps S+M club - just enquire at your local Conservative Association) would be happy to assist here.

Then we could restore the much neglected right of a man to physically chastise his wife (perhaps with a taser). Then once that has been restored, the right of employers to beat their employees should likewise be reaffirmed.

And then people with exactly zero moral status and no mandate whatsoever should be allowed to invade countries on the far side of the world that even their own intelligence agencies tell them have no connection with the problem they are allegedly trying to solve, bring about the deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent people, and still get re-elected.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Rosa Parks 1, Ku Klux Klan 0

A little snippet from Durham Herald-Sun columnist Carl Daniels-Kinney:

I'm sure many of you are aware that about two weeks ago, the US Supreme Court ruled that the State of Missouri cannot discriminate against the Ku Klux Klan when it comes to groups that want to participate in the adopt-a-highway program. Of course, while the name of the Klan is aesthetically disgusting, we'd all agree that this decision is a victory for free speech and equal protection under the law, right?

Well, the DOT in Missouri has gotten their revenge, and boy is it sweet. Sure, they can't remove the KKK's adopt-the-highway sign, but few would dispute the state's ability to name the highway itself. The KKK is now cleaning up a stretch of the newly-christened Rosa Parks Freeway.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

Saturday, October 13, 2007

YouTube for socialists

My daughter descends from her bedroom and announces that the end of the world is nigh because neither of her favourite programmes – Mock the Week and That IT Crowd – is currently running, so no one is pirating them for YouTube. Woe is she. And why, she goes on, are they so stupid as to broadcast them at the same time, so she cannot have one while the other is off-air?

Ah, I reply sagely, what you’ve got her is the difference between capitalist and socialist programming. Capitalists really care nothing for you listening pleasure: their real purpose is to prevent you watching the competition. So all the best shows air simultaneously. In a socialist broadcasting universe, I go on, the toiling masses would strive to ensure that everyone could watch everything. So they’d put Mock the Week and That IT Crowd on at different times.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

The most important event in history. And Diana's dead too.

Today is the anniversary of the most important event in history: the day humanity took its first step towards living in the universe rather than just on this planet. On October 4 1957, human beings launched the Sputnik, the first artificial satellite. Within 12 years we were walking around the surface of our celestial next-door neighbour. Two wonderful moments.

If the flight of Sputnik represents the most important event in history, the death of Princess Diana continues to be treated as though it was pretty vital too. And as it happens, the 50th anniversary of Sputnik happen to coincide with the start of Princess Diana’s inquest.

Like most people, I'm not very interested in dead princesses. Although the media would have you believe otherwise, practically no one I knew thought that Diana's death was anything but a tragic but, from any impersonal point of view, relatively inconsequential event. True, Radio 4 went completely gaga for a week, with literally not a single non-Diana programme for days on end. The other media were almost equally deranged. Collectively they managed to create the impression that the world had gone into shock, whereas I knew only a single person who thought there was anything special going on.

So why the furore all those years ago, and the continuing media fascination? To which I reply, what furore?

Here is some simple arithmetic. Suppose that when Diana died there were a little less than 60 million people in Britain. Suppose also that about 2% of them were much affected by her death. That’s about 1,200,000 people – quite a number, but a tiny fraction of the population as a whole. Assume also that 5% of those affected individuals bothered to express their feelings in some public way. That’s still 60,000 people. I don’t know how many wreaths and crosses were laid for Diana, but 60,000 sounds about right.

So 0.1% of the population of Britain were affected enough to do something about it? Why would anyone imagine that this was the earth-shaking historical event it was reported as? Evidently a million people marching against war in Iraq wasn't significant enough for the government to notice it, so why should 60,000 be taken as so much more seriously?

But there is another lesson to be learned from these events, which is tied directly to the discrepancy between the public image and the numerical facts. This is that, although the death of The People's Princess was nothing special from the point of view of history, it was a fabulous story. And the media are interested not in what is important but what sells copy and puts bums of seats. And so are politicians, starting with the buffoon who invented that ludicrous soubriquet.

On the other hand, if there is a competition for the most boring media event in history, then surely one very powerful contender would be that climactic event of the First Space Age, the first Moon landing.

I sat there that night, expecting to be enthralled, but in reality it turned into five or more hours of grainy images and nothing happening, waiting while they got ready to open the door. It was a complete drag, as we used to say. I was even tempted to go to bed (though I resisted – just).

So I have always felt that there was a strange paradoxical tie between Princess Diana and Neil Armstrong’s respective entries into history. Armstrong’s was assuredly one that will be remembered for centuries, yet it was excruciatingly tiresome to observe and of no obvious significance in itself, while Diana’s will be forgotten by everyone but cultural historians in due course, but has been amazing (or, I should say, appalling) to witness.

Which only goes to prove that great history and a great story are only tangentially related phenomena. And that we generally don’t give a damn about the for history, while a good story has quite a few people gaga too.

So where are the social systems that help us to appreciate the history through which we are living? Certainly not the media or our education systems. And there is no folk history worth the name any more. And what is the fate of those who are ignorant of history?

Monday, October 01, 2007

Whatever happened to Welsh rugby?

With the Rugby World Cup upon us, I asked my son what he thought of rugby, which he is currently having to play at school. 'It's like one long organised fight' he replied. That pretty much chimes with my own recollection of this game for thugs played by thugs, which I was also forced to play at school.

In my day, international rugby was all Gareth Edwards and Barry John performing what can only be described as physical opera, as Wales demonstrated that even this extraordinarily brutish game can be a truly beautiful spectacle.

Pity about the modern Welsh team, of course, though they gave the Dublin School for the Blind a good thrashing the other day, so maybe things are looking up. However, I had not realised what the ultimate cause of the tragic decline of Welsh rugby really was until I googled 'Sospan fach' (which is pretty much Welsh rugby's national anthem). This is what the first verse translates to in English:

My sweet Mary Ann's hurt her finger,
And David the servant's feeling weak;
And the baby's crying now in its cradle,
The cat's scratching Johnny on
the cheek
Sospan fach is boiling on the fire,
Sospan fawr boils over on
the floor,
The cat's scratching Johnny on the cheek.
David's a soldier,
David's a soldier.
His shirttail's hanging out.

Suddenly the union of subtle dialectic and English perfidy was revealed. All that proud Welsh nationalism, fired by so many wonderful humblings of English rugby teams, and which the wicked London Parliament gratified by encouraging the teaching of Welsh in Welsh schools a couple of decades back, has led only to the sudden realisation in the Valleys that this wonderful anthem - blasted out with such passion, drama and sheer musicality, is in fact a lot of tosh. Slightly below the calibre of a bad nursery rhyme. And once they had all learned Welsh at last, they could suddenly see what twaddle they had been singing so proudly for all those years. It is as though the Red Army had adopted Mary Mary Quite Contrary as their battle song.

And 'Sospan Fach' itself? It means ‘Little Saucepan'.

Oh dear. How are the mighty fallen.