It seems that the Gods / Forces of Coincidence want me to blog, as so many things have been happening lately that have brought me to the same collection of thoughts.
I think the first and most major event was the World Cup. There was something of a minor furore over whether it was Good and/or Right for the flag of England to be flown outside of Number 10, Downing Street in support of the English football team. To those who care about these things, it was somewhat offensive to the other members of the United Kingdom that the largely-resented “dominant” partner in the union was to get its flag flown outside the headquarters of that union.
The defence was that, if the Welsh, Scottish, or Northern Irish teams had qualified for the competition then their flags would have been flown also. This is almost certainly true, I would say; it would be insensitive and politically suicidal to operate any other way. Nevertheless, the minor uproar was inevitable. And that is what interested me: why do people get so worked up about these things?
The second was the horrific oil spill in the gulf, and the strange conversation that followed the coverage in the USA. There was talk that BP should be referred to by its acronym and not as “British Petroleum” as this ran the risk of generating ill will toward Britain as a whole. The strangest part, though, was a debate I heard on BBC Radio 2, which asked whether we as the British Public should be criticising the company or defending it. This was not on the basis of its actions, however – the facts of the actual case seem to have been counted as largely irrelevant. No, rather the debate hinged on the fact that it was an (at least nominally) British company. Apparently a lot of British pensioners have money invested in the stocks, for instance.
I was surprised, I must admit – in my rather naive way – that this was really so open for debate to people. If a corporation acts in an irresponsible way, or fails to act in a responsible way, then they should be criticised. They should not be deemed worthy of defence purely by virtue of their nationality or the self-interest of stock investments. Is it really so mad to suggest that this approach is totally backwards?
Finally, there came the always-inspiring genius of Bill Hicks. I went to a showing of American: The Bill Hicks Story, a documentary about the great man’s tragically short life, and there was a short clip about the burning of the flag and how extremely people tend to react to that particular form of expression, particularly in the U.S.. It certainly seems that the more vocal incarnations of patriotism that we experience over on this side of the Atlantic are far more widespread on the other. Perhaps this is a false impression, but in a country where children are expected to recite an oath of fidelity to that country, patriotism is certainly taken very seriously indeed.
The question that kept occurring to me through all of this is one that first struck me after a throwaway comment on the radio. It may have been a politician commenting on the Downing Street Flag Fiasco, I can’t remember. But the comment was a qualification to the main portion of their argument, and was along the lines of “I’m proud to be British”. This was then joined by other phrases from the same conversation about what nationality people considered themselves: “I’m Scottish first and British second”, for instance, or “I’m English first and foremost”.
I just thought, am I alone in not strongly identifying with the state I was born into? Whether England or the United Kingdom? Am I the only one who feels no compulsion to qualify any sensible, well-reasoned comment with “Of course I’m proud to be British”? I do hope not.
Pride is something that should relate to an achievement, generally speaking. I am proud of some of my writing; I am proud of gaining my degrees at university. I am not proud of an accident of birth. I am happy, to some degree, to be British. Certainly it has afforded me a great deal of advantages simply not available to those in less affluent countries. I am happy that I live in a country that, generally speaking, allows a significant amount of freedom of expression. But I am not proud to be British. I don’t feel that the adjective applies.
I don’t see patriotism as a useful force in the world. What it does in terms of promoting solidarity within a country and a sense of national identity is positively counter-productive in an increasingly global society. The oil spill is the perfect example: almost as much coverage has been given to the international relations aspect as has been given to the fact that it is a disaster on an incredible scale. Why do people care that it’s a nominally British company, when the spill is affecting several states with no regard for national boundaries? I am increasingly convinced that we need to regard ourselves as citizens of the Earth first, with this taking precedence over any national identity we might feel.
I leave you with the incisive wit of The Great Hicks…
I realise this is old news to most people by this point, but I’ve been stupidly busy over the last month or more and just haven’t had the time, or indeed inclination, to blog. Even my creative writing, which takes precedence, has suffered lately. But enough of that. What is this old news to which I refer?
The UK now has an officially recognised and established Pirate Party. No, this isn’t some attempt to nationalise children’s birthday entertainments (at least I don’t think it is); it is a serious political organisation with a serious message.
That message, according to their website, is threefold: reform copyright and patent law; end excessive surveillance; ensure freedom of speech. Definitely policies I can get behind. But despite the multi-pronged nature of their “manifesto”, I have a hard time not categorising them as a single-issue party. Perhaps they would not dispute this.
The problem here is that single-issue parties do not get elected, and nor should they. For instance, at the time of writing this, their official manifesto contains the amusing line “Pirate Party UK has no opinion on whether Britain should or should not be a member of the European Union.” Is it sensible for a political party, I.E., a group presumably campaigning for votes, to have no opinion on this central topic in British politics? Even if you do not accept this, and think that “no opinion” is a perfectly acceptable position to take on Europe, then skip down to the economic policy. Yep, that’s right, they don’t have one.
As with every single-issue party, it seems that the function they intend (or are at any rate “destined”) to perform is that of a pressure group. Their true effect will not be measured in votes, but in public awareness of the issues; though it is true that any votes they do receive may well push the major parties into more serious consideration of those issues.
But why go to the trouble of creating a political party, when a pressure group is subject to far less red tape and hoop-jumping? If it is an effort to be taken more seriously, then they missed the lesson of the Snowdrop Campaign in 1997 – possibly the most effective UK grassroots pressure group in recent history. Indeed, their petitions resulted in new legislation being pushed through almost immediately by a new government terrified of the media’s disapproval after the horrific Dunblane Massacre. The resulting legislation, however, was rushed; as a result it was near-unenforceable and had to be reworded.
The media has evolved significantly since then, of course. 12 years ago the internet was just barely beginning to function as a media outlet, and the Snowdrop Campaign was one of the first to utilise its potential as a mass-communication tool. The Pirate Party is a group which, with technology as its primary background, is in a position to take full advantage of the new media, Web 2.0, or whatever other buzzword you’d like to use for it.
Should they be an established political party? Well, it’s probably not necessary. But I do wish them the best of luck in getting their message heard.
If you know me (whether personally or simply through my posts here), you’ll probably know I have a fascination with mythology. This extends beyond a mere enjoyment of the stories, into what they can tell us about the human condition, and our cultural history. But recently, I heard a wonderful quote which I’d like to share with you, as best as I can remember it:
“Mythology is a vital part of our history, and must be kept alive. But to claim that one mythology is more valid, or holds more truth than another, is arrogant and dangerous. (pause) Basically what I’m saying is that religion is bullshit.”
An elegant summary if ever there was one. The speaker in this case was a man I’m coming to admire more and more – Heri Joensen, vocalist of the very excellent Faeroese folk metal band Tyr. They’ve always had strong pagan overtones in their music, and he is becoming less subtle and more outspoken about his distaste for religion – particularly Christianity purely due to the history of persecution in Northern Europe around the turn of the second millennium.
Thinking about this recently, I recalled a teacher I had at A-Level, in Religious Studies. A creationist (and a bloody nice bloke by the way), he objected to the term “Christian mythology”, because he felt it somehow denigrated the religion. I disagreed silently at the time, unsure of my ability to marshal arguments against his position. But on reflection now, it’s not a difficult case to demolish. The real question is, why on earth would Christianity not count as mythology?
Perhaps on first glance it’s a little more subtle (or perhaps dull and boring would be a more honest appraisal) than most mythologies, with highlights being a rather tame collection of stories that would seem unremarkable indeed amongst the vibrant madness that one encounters in those of Egypt, Greece, India, and Scandinavia (to name but a few). But a lack of imagination does not exempt it from being mythological.
It is still, after all, a collection of stories, with symbolism and morals and magic and impossible events. There is no objective reason to place it above any other set of mythologies, and of course the impulse to do so comes simply for one’s own biased regard for that one belief system. Which is why I think it is sad (however inevitable it may be) when one set of mythologies manages to all but wipe out a competing one, and I think that Christianity’s triumph in Europe is one of the great cultural tragedies of history. But why did it succeed? Why did people choose to follow the teachings of the Bible over their own cultural stories?
Well of course, to get the answer to that question we need to look predominantly to the ruling class; it was they who converted first, and passed on that conversion to their people, through force, persuasion, or simply a kind of peer pressure. So the question becomes one of why those in power adopted the new faith from the south. Was it a resonance of truth and goodness they felt? Possibly, I’ll not deny that. But looking at it realistically, I’d say it was more likely that the majority of them simply found it more useful, more expedient.
I don’t think it is too controversial to suggest that most of those in power are there because they sought it. It is hardly a leap to also suggest that those who seek power and attain it do not cease to seek it. Is it any wonder that they chose to adopt a religion which preaches meekness, obedience, unquestioning devotion, and enforces it with fear? I’m afraid I have another quote for you, this time from a novel I read fairly recently. It’s Viking: King’s Man, book three of a wonderful trilogy by Tim Severin:
“…the worship of the White Christ suits men who seek to dominate others. It is not the belief of the humble, but of despots and tyrants. When a man claims he is specially selected by the White Christ, then all those who follow that religion must treat him as if they are revering the God himself… This is a contradiction of all that the God is meant to stand for, yet I have witnessed how, among rulers of men, it is the truly ruthless and the ambitious who adopt the Christian faith, then use it to suppress the dignity of their fellows.”
Simply, Christianity succeeded where other mythologies failed because it was a useful tool by which men might gain and maintain power. Politics has, once again, shown itself to be a (if not the) driving force behind major cultural change. However innocent, bland and otherwise fluffy and inoffensive* a belief system might be, there will always be someone there to exploit it. That’s human nature.
* Though I might note here that, despite the commendable and generally positive attitude of many of its adherents, Christianity isn’t the nicest of religions once you examine the literature. No, sir.