My heart goes out to the family of Ian Tomlinson, but it is no surprise to me that PC Simon Harwood was cleared.
The statistics are truly shocking: 1000 deaths in 42 years, 300 of those in the last ten, and not a single conviction. This is the stark reality of a police force drunk on power, that has lost all respect for human life.
I was at the G20 protests that fateful day in 2009, and whatever the tabloid apologists may tell you, the police were like animals. One man just in front of where we were standing was literally running with blood from multiple wounds. He had his hands raised in surrender, but they kept on beating him.
A girl in our party sustained a baton wound to the scalp. She is under five feet tall and did nothing wrong, simply had the misfortune to be in hitting range of a thug in uniform.
Time and again mob mentality takes over, and it's getting worse. The increasing criminalisation of dissent and the fact they know the toothless IPCC will let them get away with it means the police are literally getting away with murder.
And the deaths are only the most visible and appalling symptoms (not to mention the disgraceful character assassination of Tomlinson's family by Amanda Platell in the Mail, suggesting they were exaggerating their grief for money and "fifteen minutes of fame". The family, for the record, have refused all financial offers for their story.) Jean Charles de Menezes. Mark Duggan. Sean Rigg. No surprise that a disproportionate number in this ghastly parade had black or brown faces. Nor that the police tried to demonise these victims after the fact, in justification.
But the thuggery and inhumanity is demonstrated in a thousand smaller ways every day. For example, the notorious treatment of Pamela Somerville, dragged through the station by Mark Andrews and thrown so violently into a cell that her face poured blood. Pamela Somerville is fifty seven and tiny. Her "offence" was falling asleep in her car. Surprise, surprise, Andrews was acquitted on appeal.
Or the use of tasers at the eviction of Dale Farm, in direct contravention of rules which forbid their use in public order situations. I find this a particularly interesting example, as the Dale Farm situation involved travellers - arguably one of the police's unofficial categories of those who don't really count as human beings.
An example from my own experience at this juncture. Several years ago I was living in a squat in central Brighton. The building, an old church, had been empty for ten years before being squatted and we used it for workshops and social events and ran a soup kitchen, as well as it obviously being our home. We were well liked and supported in the local community, many of whom gave comments to the local press to this effect. Nonetheless we were evicted, and the police turned up mob handed. I saw them being rough with a couple of my friends, and tried to intervene (verbally, I hasten to add). At which point an officer twice my size picked me up and threw me out of the way, but not before grabbing and twisting my left nipple so hard it was bruised for a week. This is a clear example of a policeman doing something because we were just squatters, just the scum of the earth; and because he COULD, because he knew he'd get away with it.
I reported the incident, after being made to wait five hours (they clearly hoped I'd just go away). I was then told the officer's number, which I had carefully written down, didn't exist. I persisted in my complaint, but all that happened was that after six months I received a letter saying they could offer me an apology, without accepting any responsibility.
Clearly I am not comparing my experience to the death of Ian Tomlinson. I still have my life and health. Yet this was a sexual assault committed in the full knowledge of impunity. Acts huge and murderous or small and spiteful, the police are getting away with them all and laughing all the way to the barricades and picket lines.
As Nina Power in the Guardian comments, CCTV in the back of black Marias would be a good start. The rest of us have had to get used to constant surveillance and most of us aren't habitually violent. But it's the culture that's the problem, that protesters are fair game, that travellers and squatters and the homeless and the non white and on and on don't really count as real people, just animals who had it coming.
Until the police actually respect the public they are supposed to serve - and while they continue to be demonstrably unregulated and above the law - nothing will change. There will be more senseless violence and more senseless deaths.
(To sign the UFFC petition for full and transparent enquiry into suspicious deaths in custody, go to http://uffc-campaigncentral.net/about/uffc-no10-e-petition/).
Tuesday, 24 July 2012
Monday, 25 June 2012
How to put an entire generation on the scrapheap, by David Cameron
Ok, I know I promised a detailed and entirely scientific analysis of why Thatcher, Bush, Blair, Cameron et al are almost certainly psychopathic, but that is going to have to wait, although the following may provide an evidentiary case study.
I actually cried today on hearing Cameron's proposals to abolish housing benefit for the under twenty fives. I'm not under twenty five. It won't affect me. So why the tears?
It's the callous, glib heartlessness of the man who is not even bothering to pretend to care any more about the "lower orders", as he undoubtedly thinks of us. Three quarters of the homeless are under twenty five and that figure is set to explode if this insane proposal comes to fruition. Cameron apparently thinks young people should continue to live with their parents. Well, that's all very well if mummy and daddy can afford to keep you for an extra ten years, and if all is well. But let's remember that many families are abusive and dysfunctional, and in these cases staying at home is not an option. And that's not to mention those already vulnerable and often sadly emotionally damaged youngsters who grow up in care homes - kicked out at eighteen? Where are they supposed to go for the seven years before they qualify? Our streets and prisons are already littered with the human detritus who have fallen through the cracks - the abused, the kids who have run away from care homes or unimaginable abuse at the hands of parents supposed to keep them safe, the mentally ill, the dispossessed. It's a depressing fact that these vulnerable legions who most need help and compassion are exactly those considered disposable and worthless by the Old Etonian millionaires club that makes up the current cabinet. (I also find it interesting that he has the gall to talk of a culture of something for nothing, when that is exactly what he is asking of already beleaguered parents - to extend indefinite care for adult children, with presumably no extra financial help on the table.)
Cameron is the living, breathing embodiment of a system which unashamedly extends laissez faire to those at the top, who create the inequality, but regulates and controls the poor by means of what the sociologist Loic Wacquant has called a carceral assistantial net - prison on the one hand, and the transformation of welfare on the other into a system where even the most miserable, minimal assistance comes with endless hoops to jump, surveillance and a complete stripping away of human dignity. Whatever you get, they'll make sure you know you're a worthless and inadequate specimen for needing it. The removal of housing benefit for under twenty fives is also another example of the cynical targeting and scapegoating of young people, who at the end of the day do not by virtue of being young somehow need food and shelter less.
It will also bring about an explosion in US style working poverty, as documented in Barbara Ehrenreich's brilliant Nickel and Dimed. Ehrenreich went undercover to investigate life in low wage USA, and met many coworkers who were homeless, or just one paycheque away from homelessness - that is, if they met with an accident or unexpected illness or couldn't work, they would lose their accommodation. The US has no equivalent of housing benefit, and we should remember that Cameron's talk of a culture of entitlement obfuscates the fact that housing benefit is also there to help those on low incomes keep a roof over their head. But then a minimum wage people can actually live on without topups isn't "business friendly" and we can't have that of course.
I've said it before and I'll doubtless say it again, but the brazen hypocrisy of a government which appoints the billionaire Philip Green as an "efficiency advisor", a man reputed to have dodged a tax bill of £300m, is sickening. Again and again, the super rich get away with it and those at the sharp end get squeezed and squeezed until we can barely breathe. Young people especially are being left a legacy of no money, no jobs, no prospects, no hope. The riots may only have been the beginning - Michael Young's 1950s prophecy of a meritocratic elite, who justify their power by controlling what constitutes merit, and an underclass so disenfranchised they take to the streets is coming eerily, terrifyingly true.
As for supporting families who want to work, who is Cameron kidding? A friend of mine confided that to put her baby son in a creche while she worked would cost £36 a day. It simply makes no economic sense, she'd be no better off and so you can't blame her for wanting to spend the time with her son instead. The Tories also idolise the family and stay at home mothers - remember John Major's ill fated "Back to Basics" campaign? So are working mothers the agents of moral deterioration or do we support them now after all? Or is it more like they'll take any position that paints the poor as immoral, feckless and thus deserving of the constant attacks on them?
One final word. Feckless families? I don't know how he has the cheek. I know a lot of parents who are making ends meet on very little, but not one of them has ever left their child behind in a pub toilet.
I actually cried today on hearing Cameron's proposals to abolish housing benefit for the under twenty fives. I'm not under twenty five. It won't affect me. So why the tears?
It's the callous, glib heartlessness of the man who is not even bothering to pretend to care any more about the "lower orders", as he undoubtedly thinks of us. Three quarters of the homeless are under twenty five and that figure is set to explode if this insane proposal comes to fruition. Cameron apparently thinks young people should continue to live with their parents. Well, that's all very well if mummy and daddy can afford to keep you for an extra ten years, and if all is well. But let's remember that many families are abusive and dysfunctional, and in these cases staying at home is not an option. And that's not to mention those already vulnerable and often sadly emotionally damaged youngsters who grow up in care homes - kicked out at eighteen? Where are they supposed to go for the seven years before they qualify? Our streets and prisons are already littered with the human detritus who have fallen through the cracks - the abused, the kids who have run away from care homes or unimaginable abuse at the hands of parents supposed to keep them safe, the mentally ill, the dispossessed. It's a depressing fact that these vulnerable legions who most need help and compassion are exactly those considered disposable and worthless by the Old Etonian millionaires club that makes up the current cabinet. (I also find it interesting that he has the gall to talk of a culture of something for nothing, when that is exactly what he is asking of already beleaguered parents - to extend indefinite care for adult children, with presumably no extra financial help on the table.)
Cameron is the living, breathing embodiment of a system which unashamedly extends laissez faire to those at the top, who create the inequality, but regulates and controls the poor by means of what the sociologist Loic Wacquant has called a carceral assistantial net - prison on the one hand, and the transformation of welfare on the other into a system where even the most miserable, minimal assistance comes with endless hoops to jump, surveillance and a complete stripping away of human dignity. Whatever you get, they'll make sure you know you're a worthless and inadequate specimen for needing it. The removal of housing benefit for under twenty fives is also another example of the cynical targeting and scapegoating of young people, who at the end of the day do not by virtue of being young somehow need food and shelter less.
It will also bring about an explosion in US style working poverty, as documented in Barbara Ehrenreich's brilliant Nickel and Dimed. Ehrenreich went undercover to investigate life in low wage USA, and met many coworkers who were homeless, or just one paycheque away from homelessness - that is, if they met with an accident or unexpected illness or couldn't work, they would lose their accommodation. The US has no equivalent of housing benefit, and we should remember that Cameron's talk of a culture of entitlement obfuscates the fact that housing benefit is also there to help those on low incomes keep a roof over their head. But then a minimum wage people can actually live on without topups isn't "business friendly" and we can't have that of course.
I've said it before and I'll doubtless say it again, but the brazen hypocrisy of a government which appoints the billionaire Philip Green as an "efficiency advisor", a man reputed to have dodged a tax bill of £300m, is sickening. Again and again, the super rich get away with it and those at the sharp end get squeezed and squeezed until we can barely breathe. Young people especially are being left a legacy of no money, no jobs, no prospects, no hope. The riots may only have been the beginning - Michael Young's 1950s prophecy of a meritocratic elite, who justify their power by controlling what constitutes merit, and an underclass so disenfranchised they take to the streets is coming eerily, terrifyingly true.
As for supporting families who want to work, who is Cameron kidding? A friend of mine confided that to put her baby son in a creche while she worked would cost £36 a day. It simply makes no economic sense, she'd be no better off and so you can't blame her for wanting to spend the time with her son instead. The Tories also idolise the family and stay at home mothers - remember John Major's ill fated "Back to Basics" campaign? So are working mothers the agents of moral deterioration or do we support them now after all? Or is it more like they'll take any position that paints the poor as immoral, feckless and thus deserving of the constant attacks on them?
One final word. Feckless families? I don't know how he has the cheek. I know a lot of parents who are making ends meet on very little, but not one of them has ever left their child behind in a pub toilet.
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
National Pride? Or a sham and a shame?
Well, thank God that's over.
Was it only me who was rendered mildly nauseous and seized with the compulsion to remain indoors in a dark room until the madness had passed during jubilee weekend?
Is it only me who finds the whole thing in poor taste in a recession? A hollow spectacle of pomp and ceremony, hereditary privilege and the worst in British jingoism and triumphalism? Does it make me shamefully lacking in proper national pride that the union jacks attached to every possible consumer good - including, natch, a small one stuck in a flowerpot with a few dying twigs of lavender and flogged for a tenner as a "Jubilee Planter" - just made me want to swear?
I don't think so, and for several reasons. When people are going hungry, losing jobs and cripplingly in debt right left and centre - literally, the financial crisis was politically egalitarian and took no heed of political creed; only those so swaddled in personal and yes, often inherited, wealth could continue heedlessly living in their houses of gold and diamond studded toilets. I exaggerate, of course, but not by much, and certainly not in the case of the Royals - is a display whose subtext is, essentially, Look How Much Money We've Still Got appropriate? I have no personal beef with the Royals, although I strongly suspect we wouldn't get on. But the idea of hereditary privilege, of being born to rule, of the rest of us being mere commoners and subjects, is deeply morally offensive to me. The argument that the Queen is by now just a symbolic figurehead holds no water, either - with the vast personal fortune, supplemented by public money, property portfolio of palaces and country houses and, as a recent Facebook share that made me laugh out loud had it, a £1 million hat, I doubt that bothers her overmuch.
Some would accuse me of the politics of envy, but that is and always has been a spurious line trotted out to mask the astronomical gap between rich and poor and the ghettoisation and exclusion of the have nots - defective consumers, as Bauman has it, who are shut out of the brave new world and blamed for their own rejection again and again. Never mind that the recession has put brakes on the spending of many previously invited to the consumer party, the discourse of scroungers, layabouts and drains on resources is back with a vengeance now that cutting off aid to those who need it most requires justification.
Which brings me to my second jubilee related point. Just who are the parasites and scroungers here? I'm not a fan of those ugly, distasteful words but in the language of the tabloids, the civil list is a drain on decent taxpayers to the tune of millions - which puts the few weekly quid shaved off already paltry weekly allowances in perspective.
And maybe I'm a cynic or a horrible person, but I actually found the sheer numbers who did buy in, who did jump on the union jack waving band wagon, disheartening and depressing. How willing we are to participate in our own subjugation, whilst indulging our peculiarly British - to indulge momentarily in essentialism - superiority complex which finds its apotheosis in the lovely Royals, and didn't she look lovely, and wasn't she dignified, and on and on. What happened to all the left wing firebrands? Me, I spent the weekend wallowing in nostalgia for the days when I used to burn with pride for my Dad, who refused to stand for the national anthem at school events, who instilled me with principles that caused me, as a seven year old putative Brownie, to refuse the promise on the grounds that I categorically did not promise to serve the Queen as I was against the monarchy (and furthermore, how could I do my duty to a God I didn't believe in?) and who taught me we are NOT anyone's subjects.
I did burn with pride for my Mum, though, who informed her colleague in no uncertain terms that the only way she would be toasting the Queen was if she'd died. We're not beat yet, then. At least not round my manor.
Was it only me who was rendered mildly nauseous and seized with the compulsion to remain indoors in a dark room until the madness had passed during jubilee weekend?
Is it only me who finds the whole thing in poor taste in a recession? A hollow spectacle of pomp and ceremony, hereditary privilege and the worst in British jingoism and triumphalism? Does it make me shamefully lacking in proper national pride that the union jacks attached to every possible consumer good - including, natch, a small one stuck in a flowerpot with a few dying twigs of lavender and flogged for a tenner as a "Jubilee Planter" - just made me want to swear?
I don't think so, and for several reasons. When people are going hungry, losing jobs and cripplingly in debt right left and centre - literally, the financial crisis was politically egalitarian and took no heed of political creed; only those so swaddled in personal and yes, often inherited, wealth could continue heedlessly living in their houses of gold and diamond studded toilets. I exaggerate, of course, but not by much, and certainly not in the case of the Royals - is a display whose subtext is, essentially, Look How Much Money We've Still Got appropriate? I have no personal beef with the Royals, although I strongly suspect we wouldn't get on. But the idea of hereditary privilege, of being born to rule, of the rest of us being mere commoners and subjects, is deeply morally offensive to me. The argument that the Queen is by now just a symbolic figurehead holds no water, either - with the vast personal fortune, supplemented by public money, property portfolio of palaces and country houses and, as a recent Facebook share that made me laugh out loud had it, a £1 million hat, I doubt that bothers her overmuch.
Some would accuse me of the politics of envy, but that is and always has been a spurious line trotted out to mask the astronomical gap between rich and poor and the ghettoisation and exclusion of the have nots - defective consumers, as Bauman has it, who are shut out of the brave new world and blamed for their own rejection again and again. Never mind that the recession has put brakes on the spending of many previously invited to the consumer party, the discourse of scroungers, layabouts and drains on resources is back with a vengeance now that cutting off aid to those who need it most requires justification.
Which brings me to my second jubilee related point. Just who are the parasites and scroungers here? I'm not a fan of those ugly, distasteful words but in the language of the tabloids, the civil list is a drain on decent taxpayers to the tune of millions - which puts the few weekly quid shaved off already paltry weekly allowances in perspective.
And maybe I'm a cynic or a horrible person, but I actually found the sheer numbers who did buy in, who did jump on the union jack waving band wagon, disheartening and depressing. How willing we are to participate in our own subjugation, whilst indulging our peculiarly British - to indulge momentarily in essentialism - superiority complex which finds its apotheosis in the lovely Royals, and didn't she look lovely, and wasn't she dignified, and on and on. What happened to all the left wing firebrands? Me, I spent the weekend wallowing in nostalgia for the days when I used to burn with pride for my Dad, who refused to stand for the national anthem at school events, who instilled me with principles that caused me, as a seven year old putative Brownie, to refuse the promise on the grounds that I categorically did not promise to serve the Queen as I was against the monarchy (and furthermore, how could I do my duty to a God I didn't believe in?) and who taught me we are NOT anyone's subjects.
I did burn with pride for my Mum, though, who informed her colleague in no uncertain terms that the only way she would be toasting the Queen was if she'd died. We're not beat yet, then. At least not round my manor.
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
the great tax swindle
It doesn't surprise me that the top rate of tax has been cut in the budget, funded by freezing pensioner allowances, at a time of national hardship. It makes me want to kick things, but it doesn't surprise me.
For one thing, there has never been a truer word spoken than the popular protest chant, same old Tory, same old story. For another, the cabinet is stuffed with white male millionaires who went to Eton and Oxbridge - of course they are going to look after their own.
I have heard it said, and by perfectly reasonable people whom I like very much, that this is justifiable because it is important to be business friendly and tax competitive. Personally I was brought up to think that if the last five thousand of a billionaire's wealth was taxed at ninety five pence in the pound, then good, because to the billionaire that's a drop in the ocean and we need public services. I am aware my politics are further to the left than most, but how, how can we justify squeezing the poorest and most vulnerable until they bleed whilst giving tax breaks to the richest?
The tax competitive argument also doesn't hold water, because the UK has always been business friendly. The banks have been bailed out and their top executives continue to rake in seven figure bonuses, consciences seemingly untroubled by the destruction and desperation they have wrought on others. Stockbrokers pay lower rates of tax than their office cleaners. And London is a beacon to the super rich, who flock there in droves thanks to our unique "domicile" rule - that is, that if you can prove a residency overseas to which you periodically return, your overseas income is untouchable. As John Lanchester, writing in the Guardian Weekend, wryly commented: "What this policy amounts to, in practice, is that the UK has a giant sign hanging over it saying, 'Rich People! Come and Live Here! You Won't Have to Pay Any Tax!"
Aha, some would argue, but you are forgetting about the trickle down effect, that wealth at the top benefits everyone. Well, I am afraid I have been forced to conclude that the trickle down effect is a myth. In the eighties, the yuppies in the South drove around in Ferraris whilst the North was systematically broken. That wealth didn't trickle down to anyone. If the trickle down effect really benefited everyone, why was the minimum wage so fiercely resisted for so long, and set so cautiously low when it did come in? The fact is that you don't get rich by sharing the wealth, you do it by using cheap labour and the lowest pay and shoddiest working conditions you can get away with. The rich hold all the cards, they always have, and down here at the sharp end we don't see any benefit. That's the simple truth of the matter.
This tax discourse also links in a rather disturbing way to Cameron's "Big Society". The idea of volunteering is laudable, of course. However, when it is being pushed to persuade people to do for free what is correctly a function of government, then you get a slippery slope. As soon as something is recoded as charity, it can be taken away. Consider the Health Lottery - at first glance, seems a nice idea, right, your pound going towards good causes? But health care is a RIGHT, it should not depend on the generosity of Good Samaritans, especially when we're all so broke that philanthropy is a nice idea but falls by the wayside due to the need to feed ourselves. When the needs of immediate family are barely being met, altruism is a luxury. And these things pave the way for more NHS cuts, for more erosion of the welfare state, more Americanisation. Remember, in America, if you can't afford medical treatment, you don't get it. And if you're ill enough, and you still can't afford it, you will be left to die. Volunteerism, therefore, is all well and good, but if we are going to continue to have our basic rights and needs met, we need to pay our taxes. We need the rich to pay their taxes.
Instead, and as ever, the haves can have more, and the have nots have no choice but to accept ever greater poverty and inequality.
For one thing, there has never been a truer word spoken than the popular protest chant, same old Tory, same old story. For another, the cabinet is stuffed with white male millionaires who went to Eton and Oxbridge - of course they are going to look after their own.
I have heard it said, and by perfectly reasonable people whom I like very much, that this is justifiable because it is important to be business friendly and tax competitive. Personally I was brought up to think that if the last five thousand of a billionaire's wealth was taxed at ninety five pence in the pound, then good, because to the billionaire that's a drop in the ocean and we need public services. I am aware my politics are further to the left than most, but how, how can we justify squeezing the poorest and most vulnerable until they bleed whilst giving tax breaks to the richest?
The tax competitive argument also doesn't hold water, because the UK has always been business friendly. The banks have been bailed out and their top executives continue to rake in seven figure bonuses, consciences seemingly untroubled by the destruction and desperation they have wrought on others. Stockbrokers pay lower rates of tax than their office cleaners. And London is a beacon to the super rich, who flock there in droves thanks to our unique "domicile" rule - that is, that if you can prove a residency overseas to which you periodically return, your overseas income is untouchable. As John Lanchester, writing in the Guardian Weekend, wryly commented: "What this policy amounts to, in practice, is that the UK has a giant sign hanging over it saying, 'Rich People! Come and Live Here! You Won't Have to Pay Any Tax!"
Aha, some would argue, but you are forgetting about the trickle down effect, that wealth at the top benefits everyone. Well, I am afraid I have been forced to conclude that the trickle down effect is a myth. In the eighties, the yuppies in the South drove around in Ferraris whilst the North was systematically broken. That wealth didn't trickle down to anyone. If the trickle down effect really benefited everyone, why was the minimum wage so fiercely resisted for so long, and set so cautiously low when it did come in? The fact is that you don't get rich by sharing the wealth, you do it by using cheap labour and the lowest pay and shoddiest working conditions you can get away with. The rich hold all the cards, they always have, and down here at the sharp end we don't see any benefit. That's the simple truth of the matter.
This tax discourse also links in a rather disturbing way to Cameron's "Big Society". The idea of volunteering is laudable, of course. However, when it is being pushed to persuade people to do for free what is correctly a function of government, then you get a slippery slope. As soon as something is recoded as charity, it can be taken away. Consider the Health Lottery - at first glance, seems a nice idea, right, your pound going towards good causes? But health care is a RIGHT, it should not depend on the generosity of Good Samaritans, especially when we're all so broke that philanthropy is a nice idea but falls by the wayside due to the need to feed ourselves. When the needs of immediate family are barely being met, altruism is a luxury. And these things pave the way for more NHS cuts, for more erosion of the welfare state, more Americanisation. Remember, in America, if you can't afford medical treatment, you don't get it. And if you're ill enough, and you still can't afford it, you will be left to die. Volunteerism, therefore, is all well and good, but if we are going to continue to have our basic rights and needs met, we need to pay our taxes. We need the rich to pay their taxes.
Instead, and as ever, the haves can have more, and the have nots have no choice but to accept ever greater poverty and inequality.
Thursday, 15 March 2012
A lot of hot air
Doing my food shopping at Asda last week - yes, I am so rock n' roll it hurts - I witnessed a bizarre phenomenon which nonetheless did not really surprise me but rather induced a sort of weary, sardonic resignation.
The contents of the tobacco counter - yes, the tobacco, which you might surmise to be such a counter's raison d'etre - are now to be covered, presumably to shield us delicate souls from the deadly glamour of the evil weed. Further, if you request, say, Lambert and Butler, and they are out of stock, and you then enquire as to the availability of other brands, staff are not allowed to give you this information! To my mind, this conjures up images of a nightmarish mixture of bemused customer playing a considerably less fun version of deal or no deal - what's in the box, ten Mayfair or a disposable lighter? wow, the extra frisson it'll add to your shopping! - and staff trying the generation game conveyor belt as they attempt to remember what's behind the big fibreglass board. Of course, some staff will not remember and may thus lie, if they are not tempted to lie to start with to enliven the existential despair of their wage slave working day.
Now, the arguments about the smoking ban have all been done to death and it's not my purpose to rehash them, although astute readers may be able to hazard a guess as to which side I came down - particularly when the silly season opened and we were banned from smoking in our own homes for two hours before the arrival of a work person, presumably to allow for full clearance of the biohazard area, and such pearls of wisdom were heard on the radio as smoking not around your children, but when they have gone to bed, will induce childhood cancers despite your responsible actions, due to residual nicotine. (Because of course that's the only dangerous pollutant children are at risk from). Now as I say, I won't comment on my own stance, but here's a clue: last time I looked, an English man's home was still his castle.
Neither is it my purpose to repudiate medical evidence on the dangers of smoking. Seeing as it is plastered all over our cig packets and baccy pouches and putting us all off our breakfast, you'd have had to be living in a cave not to know this. What I do object to is the mass moral blackmail of small children on my TV, in my living room, in my home saying Mummy, please don't die. The hypocrisy sickens me, apart from anything else - war, pollution, mass poverty, I could go on and on and yet who gets scapegoated again, who gets the big finger of disapproval and exclusion?
However, I have been distracted from my main purpose here again, and it may be evident I find this an emotive issue. Those who think it is trivial are missing an important point. This attempted micromanagement of behaviour not only ignores the fact that adults who smoke are well aware of the risks, but choose to anyway - but it's also a timehonoured way for government to distract people from their wholesale incompetence, blame others, and look like they are at least doing something in one fell swoop. And it won't work. Here's why.
If the trajectory of my smoking career had gone something like this, then covering tobacco products might be a way forward: Growing up, from an early age I was seduced by the fatal and pernicious allure of the tobacco products seeming to call to me from the newsagent's shelf. I determined to experiment with them at the first opportunity. Clearly, seeing the products was the only factor in why I started smoking and the reason I continued, for every time I tried to stop, dammit! I'd go into a shop, and see the cigarettes on the shelves, and be reminded how much I loved smoking! Whereas if they had been hidden, I would have completely forgotten they existed and this would somehow have taken care of the nicotine withdrawals as well, and I'd have been a happy and fully reformed ex smoker!
On the other hand, here's how my smoking career, and that of everyone else I know, panned out in the real world. First, and importantly, I became a teenager. (Perhaps the only legislation which would actually stop people lighting up for the first time would be if the government somehow found a way to ban the teenage years. Which it would if it could, given that "feral youth" are another modern persecuted minority, and middle England's perennial obsession. But I better stop there, if I get started on the social construction of the hoodie menace I'll go wildly off topic and be typing all night to boot). I wanted to kick against the pricks and look cool, and all my mates were smoking. I started smoking and enjoyed it. I carried on. The smoking ban came along and merely annoyed me into smoking more, because the government is not the boss of me. The End.
This type of legislation is not only useless, but in these troubled times it also smacks unforgivably of fiddling whilst Rome burns.* Not to mention passing the buck, once again, to smokers, who have now been cast as the deviants responsible for all social ills, if you believe the legislation and the hype.
And just one more thing, on a related subject. Anyone else noticed that most adverts for house rentals these days contain the caveat, "No smokers, no DSS, no pets?" And anyone else reminded of the old, "No blacks, no Irish, no dogs" signs? Discrimination against society's poor and the excluded group du jour is alive and well, it seems. Plus ca change . . .
* I know "fiddling" in this saying refers to playing the violin, but I prefer to think of it as actual fiddling in times of disaster, for example rearranging the paperclip drawer whilst your whole family is drowning.
The contents of the tobacco counter - yes, the tobacco, which you might surmise to be such a counter's raison d'etre - are now to be covered, presumably to shield us delicate souls from the deadly glamour of the evil weed. Further, if you request, say, Lambert and Butler, and they are out of stock, and you then enquire as to the availability of other brands, staff are not allowed to give you this information! To my mind, this conjures up images of a nightmarish mixture of bemused customer playing a considerably less fun version of deal or no deal - what's in the box, ten Mayfair or a disposable lighter? wow, the extra frisson it'll add to your shopping! - and staff trying the generation game conveyor belt as they attempt to remember what's behind the big fibreglass board. Of course, some staff will not remember and may thus lie, if they are not tempted to lie to start with to enliven the existential despair of their wage slave working day.
Now, the arguments about the smoking ban have all been done to death and it's not my purpose to rehash them, although astute readers may be able to hazard a guess as to which side I came down - particularly when the silly season opened and we were banned from smoking in our own homes for two hours before the arrival of a work person, presumably to allow for full clearance of the biohazard area, and such pearls of wisdom were heard on the radio as smoking not around your children, but when they have gone to bed, will induce childhood cancers despite your responsible actions, due to residual nicotine. (Because of course that's the only dangerous pollutant children are at risk from). Now as I say, I won't comment on my own stance, but here's a clue: last time I looked, an English man's home was still his castle.
Neither is it my purpose to repudiate medical evidence on the dangers of smoking. Seeing as it is plastered all over our cig packets and baccy pouches and putting us all off our breakfast, you'd have had to be living in a cave not to know this. What I do object to is the mass moral blackmail of small children on my TV, in my living room, in my home saying Mummy, please don't die. The hypocrisy sickens me, apart from anything else - war, pollution, mass poverty, I could go on and on and yet who gets scapegoated again, who gets the big finger of disapproval and exclusion?
However, I have been distracted from my main purpose here again, and it may be evident I find this an emotive issue. Those who think it is trivial are missing an important point. This attempted micromanagement of behaviour not only ignores the fact that adults who smoke are well aware of the risks, but choose to anyway - but it's also a timehonoured way for government to distract people from their wholesale incompetence, blame others, and look like they are at least doing something in one fell swoop. And it won't work. Here's why.
If the trajectory of my smoking career had gone something like this, then covering tobacco products might be a way forward: Growing up, from an early age I was seduced by the fatal and pernicious allure of the tobacco products seeming to call to me from the newsagent's shelf. I determined to experiment with them at the first opportunity. Clearly, seeing the products was the only factor in why I started smoking and the reason I continued, for every time I tried to stop, dammit! I'd go into a shop, and see the cigarettes on the shelves, and be reminded how much I loved smoking! Whereas if they had been hidden, I would have completely forgotten they existed and this would somehow have taken care of the nicotine withdrawals as well, and I'd have been a happy and fully reformed ex smoker!
On the other hand, here's how my smoking career, and that of everyone else I know, panned out in the real world. First, and importantly, I became a teenager. (Perhaps the only legislation which would actually stop people lighting up for the first time would be if the government somehow found a way to ban the teenage years. Which it would if it could, given that "feral youth" are another modern persecuted minority, and middle England's perennial obsession. But I better stop there, if I get started on the social construction of the hoodie menace I'll go wildly off topic and be typing all night to boot). I wanted to kick against the pricks and look cool, and all my mates were smoking. I started smoking and enjoyed it. I carried on. The smoking ban came along and merely annoyed me into smoking more, because the government is not the boss of me. The End.
This type of legislation is not only useless, but in these troubled times it also smacks unforgivably of fiddling whilst Rome burns.* Not to mention passing the buck, once again, to smokers, who have now been cast as the deviants responsible for all social ills, if you believe the legislation and the hype.
And just one more thing, on a related subject. Anyone else noticed that most adverts for house rentals these days contain the caveat, "No smokers, no DSS, no pets?" And anyone else reminded of the old, "No blacks, no Irish, no dogs" signs? Discrimination against society's poor and the excluded group du jour is alive and well, it seems. Plus ca change . . .
* I know "fiddling" in this saying refers to playing the violin, but I prefer to think of it as actual fiddling in times of disaster, for example rearranging the paperclip drawer whilst your whole family is drowning.
Tuesday, 6 March 2012
And another thing . . .
Just a short postscript to yesterday's piece . . .
I wholeheartedly believe that small acts, whether of kindness or defiance, have great power and value for their own sake. They keep us human, and they give us courage. But if you don't also believe that these small acts can move mountains, remember Rosa Parks, who refused to give up her seat to a white person in racially segregated 50s America, sparking the Montgomery Bus Boycott and becoming an icon of the Civil Rights movement. Her act of courage fomented social revolution - you never know when yours could do the same.
I wholeheartedly believe that small acts, whether of kindness or defiance, have great power and value for their own sake. They keep us human, and they give us courage. But if you don't also believe that these small acts can move mountains, remember Rosa Parks, who refused to give up her seat to a white person in racially segregated 50s America, sparking the Montgomery Bus Boycott and becoming an icon of the Civil Rights movement. Her act of courage fomented social revolution - you never know when yours could do the same.
Monday, 5 March 2012
Keep the faith, we need it now more than ever
It's easy to think, looking around at all the horror and injustice in the world, that there's nothing we can do. So easy to feel bewildered, to feel frightened, to feel helpless in the face of the machinations of governments and individuals who seem omnipotent, backed by resources most of us can only dream of. I felt this way recently, reading Naomi Klein's "The Shock Doctrine" - a wonderfully honest, brave, angry account of disaster capitalism and the "Big Lie" - that is, that free markets and freedom go hand in hand. It's not the purpose of this piece to review that book, but very briefly, Klein exposes the way neoliberal ideologists have repeatedly exploited the chaos and confusion of disasters such as Hurricane Katrina to impose their vision by the back door, when the traumatised populace is still regrouping, not to mention US government funded adventures in torture and repression - notably the Pinochet regime in Chile, when the developmentalist policies of Latin American governments in the 1970s threatened to cut off profitable markets.
My point here is, in the face of overwhelming, David and Goliath style odds - militarism, wealth, surveillance, technology, power versus individuals - what can we do? What have we got, that will work, that will change things?
This blog was named in tribute to my dad, who died in 2000. By the time I was at primary school I hated Thatcher, the monarchy specifically and hereditary privilege generally, the death penalty and fox hunting (this is a representative but not exhaustive selection. Though it has to be said, mostly Thatcher) but not because I was mindlessly parroting his views. My dad told me what he thought, he told me why he thought it, and he let me make up my own mind. He didn't assume I wouldn't understand because I was a child, and he taught me to ask questions and to believe in social justice. I'm proud to say I'm still my father's daughter, and as his spirit lives on in me, true red really ain't dead.
It may seem like I just veered off on a wild tangent, but I wrote about my dad for a reason. Because the answer to what we can do lies, or so I believe, in our own hearts and those of our loved ones. The magnitude of evil and injustice in the world IS overwhelming. Yet if we keep asking those questions, keep talking, and above all keep our hearts open and loving in the face of those who have no respect for life, then who knows what the reverberations will be? Love can move the world, I truly believe that. So win the hearts and minds of people you love, encourage them when it seems the battle can't be won, tell your children the truth. You don't know who they'll tell, or what they'll go on to do - something you say to someone today could end up changing things in ways you can't even anticipate. We have to take care of each other, and we have to keep bearing witness. The day we all shut down inside because things seem so hopeless, the day we turn for good to the prozac of consumerism and stop caring, is the day the battle is lost. But that's not today, not for me and not for millions of others.
We have hearts, we have brains, and we have each other. And that's all we have. Against war and torture, against poverty and inequality, against abuse and rape, that may seem like nothing at all. And yet in the face of all that brutality, isn't continuing to care a miracle?
Keep loving each other. Keep talking. Keep doing what you can. Trust me, it means everything.
My point here is, in the face of overwhelming, David and Goliath style odds - militarism, wealth, surveillance, technology, power versus individuals - what can we do? What have we got, that will work, that will change things?
This blog was named in tribute to my dad, who died in 2000. By the time I was at primary school I hated Thatcher, the monarchy specifically and hereditary privilege generally, the death penalty and fox hunting (this is a representative but not exhaustive selection. Though it has to be said, mostly Thatcher) but not because I was mindlessly parroting his views. My dad told me what he thought, he told me why he thought it, and he let me make up my own mind. He didn't assume I wouldn't understand because I was a child, and he taught me to ask questions and to believe in social justice. I'm proud to say I'm still my father's daughter, and as his spirit lives on in me, true red really ain't dead.
It may seem like I just veered off on a wild tangent, but I wrote about my dad for a reason. Because the answer to what we can do lies, or so I believe, in our own hearts and those of our loved ones. The magnitude of evil and injustice in the world IS overwhelming. Yet if we keep asking those questions, keep talking, and above all keep our hearts open and loving in the face of those who have no respect for life, then who knows what the reverberations will be? Love can move the world, I truly believe that. So win the hearts and minds of people you love, encourage them when it seems the battle can't be won, tell your children the truth. You don't know who they'll tell, or what they'll go on to do - something you say to someone today could end up changing things in ways you can't even anticipate. We have to take care of each other, and we have to keep bearing witness. The day we all shut down inside because things seem so hopeless, the day we turn for good to the prozac of consumerism and stop caring, is the day the battle is lost. But that's not today, not for me and not for millions of others.
We have hearts, we have brains, and we have each other. And that's all we have. Against war and torture, against poverty and inequality, against abuse and rape, that may seem like nothing at all. And yet in the face of all that brutality, isn't continuing to care a miracle?
Keep loving each other. Keep talking. Keep doing what you can. Trust me, it means everything.
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