Pupil Barrister

Tag: History (Page 6 of 8)

On Trolls, Liberty, Debate and Damian Green

There’s a recently concluded debate over at the Liberal Conspiracy about ‘feeding the trolls’, that is, engaging with commenters on the blog who are just there to provoke an argument. I think there is a distinction between proper trolls, who are actively seeking to waste their own time in order to waste others’, and other people who simply have a wildly differing worldview. In the case of the former, it is rarely worth engaging. But in the case of the latter, debate can sometimes be helpful. It all depends on what kind of conversation you want to have, and on the Liberal Conspiracy, it is often impossible to talk about something at the level of detail you desire, if you are arguing first principles with someone else (be it a troll, or bona fide member of the seething classes).
Sometimes, I wonder if the mainstream media aren’t trolling. Today I spotted this headline from the Daily Mail, and feel confident that it has been written to waste my time.

Human Rights: Straw To Get Tough
Exclusive – Minister tells Mail how he’ll reform ‘Villiain’s Charter

Its not that I do not disagree with the idea of labelling the Human Right’s Act a “villiain’s charter”.  Its just that attempting to engage with it – especially on a blog – is a bit pointless. Its not as if they are making some kind of technical or categorical error that a plucky blogger might tease out and add to the debate. This article is speaking a genuinely different language. I have been silent on the ‘Baby P’ issue, because the debate was of this highly toxic, divisive type. Others gamely engaged with the trolls, so to speak, but there comes a point where its down to someone with a little more profile that bloggers to take up the political fight. This is why people often end up criticising political allies, for relatively trivial reasons, apparently missing the wood for the trees. Its not that we’ve lost our moral compass, just that we’re angry that other people are not speaking up for us in the places that matter.
As to the substance of the article, I’ll merely note again that it is the hated and the vulnerable who have their Human Rights violated first. The Declaration of Human Rights was created precisely to guard against populist tendencies in governments. They’re inconvenient, but then so is the task of retaining our humanity in the face of violence and antagonism.
For those with a fatigue for this sort of thing, I highly recommend a visit to the ‘Taking Liberties‘ Exhibition (no, not that Taking Liberties) at the British Library. It has the Magna Carta and other declarations of Rights and Freedoms penned by various men and women from around these isles.
The exhibition set me thinking about the Damian Green affair (something else that seems so divisive that there is so little common ground between the warring parties that debate seems futile). Whilst I personally don’t believe that Jacqui Smith ordered the police into Mr Green’s office, and I do not believe that the Speaker, Michael Martin, colluded in the warrantless searching of the Tory MP’s office, the outcry itself seems like a healthy thing to me. It is good that there is an ‘awkward squad’ barrage of questions every time there is any hint of impropriety. Far from us living in a Stalinist State, as some alledge, it is the indignant calls to account which prevent us sliding into one.

Update

Heh – I wrote:

its down to someone with a little more profile that bloggers to take up the political fight

Ask and it shall be delivered unto you.

A Sunlit Salute to The Fallen

I managed to get down to the Cenotaph last Tuesday for the Armistice Day ceremony. However, I did not manage to post any kind of tribute on the blog.  Better late than never, here are a few thoughts.
Whitehall runs through Westminster on a North-South axis, with Parliament Square and the Palace of Westminster immediately to the South.  Since its a road in the Northern Hemisphere, this means that during a mid-morning in November, the sun will be low in the sky behind the Victoria Tower.  Tuesday was crisp and clear, and as Big Ben struck eleven o’clock last Tuesday, the sun peaked out from behind some lingering cloudes and streamed down Westminster.  North of the Cenotaph, we onlookers raised our hands to our heads, to sheild our eyes from the glare.  An unwitting, yet entirely fitting, civilian salute to the dead.

Onlookers at the ceremony to mark the 90th Anniversary of the end of the Great War 1914-18

Onlookers at the ceremony to mark the 90th Anniversary of the end of the Great War 1914-18. 11th November 2008


For me, I always find the moment when music breaks the silence to be the most moving.  Bag-pipes, so often derided as a nuisance on the Edinburgh Royal Mile, find their niche at these sombre moments.  A brass band, a Welsh male voice choir, and a poem by Siegfreid Sassoon, Have You Forgotten Yet?
That word, that “yet”, challenges us.  Sassoon knows that we will forget, eventually, and the men who died at The Somme and elsewhere will eventually be known to us only as nameless fodder, much like the thousands who died at Waterloo.  Too far back in history to be properly human.  But no Seigfried, not yet, not while three men who fought in that war still roll down Whitehall in their chairs.
Who do we forget first?  Those young unmarried men without descendants, that’s who.   It is a crass, Darwinian truth that, for the most part, we are a nation descended from the survivors of war, not the fallen.  Its telling that the two poppies I planted in the Westminster Abbey Garden of Remembrance, I planted not for grandfathers, but for two distant uncles: 2nd. Lt. Roland Ingle, who I’ve written about before, and Flt. Lt. Reginald Rimmer, blown up over Burwash, East Sussex, during the Battle of Britain, 1940.

You silly, silly young men!  Positively eager to go-over-the-top.  Stubbornly climbing back into the cock-pit.  Zealous, brave, and long dead by the time you were my age: Thank you.

Tributes in the Garden of Remembrance, Westminster Abbey, London. 11.11.2008

Tributes in the Garden of Remembrance, Westminster Abbey, London. 11.11.2008. Photo by yrstrly

History Conscious

Simon Hoggart on Obama’s acceptance speech:

Here is a man, you feel, who is already looking back on his own life as a central moment in the American narrative. In a sense, he hovers over himself, watching and hearing his own performance, as if being elected President was the supreme out-of-body experience.

I think this attitude, conscious of being a crucial part of a larger history, could lead to wise decision making that eschews the partisan for the conciliatory, and the short-term for the long-term.

Reading the second-day coverage of this election, one can clearly see how history conscious the media are too.  They have been aware for weeks that this moment would be transformational, and have had time to prepare their most eloquent, flowing, go-down-in-history prose.  Sadky, very little of it will ever be read again – instead, it will merely be rewritten my new hands, as future pundits with the benefit of hindsight file reminisces of a pivotal moment.  Only Obama’s acceptance speech will endure (and even this may be superseded by his Inaugural address next January). I half wish that the papers reverted to their dense, colourless reportage, and let us conjour whatever historical significance we wish in our own minds.

Is there a difference between living the history, and merely watching it unfold?  I think so, and for those of use observing the moment overseas, I think the detachment was particularly acute.  We are delighted and relieved at the news… and yet we were unable to participate.  The celebrations in Grant Park, Chicago were genuine, but we were elsewhere, and so we had to watch them on a flat screen.  That most important of sounds, the noise of the thousands cheering, was dialled down by the sound editor, so we could properly hear Obama’s words.  It is historical, yes, but by the time we come to experience it, it has already been tampered with.

Southwark Rooftops

The rooftops of houses behind Waterloo East rail station, Southwark London.

The rooftops of houses behind Waterloo East rail station, Southwark London.

What did I tell ya? There’s the whole world at your feet. And who gets to see it but the birds, the stars and the chimney sweeps.

‘Bert’ (as played by Dick Van Dyke), Mary Poppins, 1964.
These Southwark Terraces are perhaps not as salubrious as 17 Cherry Tree Lane, but their rooftops are a perfect example of the secret world of London that Bert loves, the one above the rooftops.
A favourite part of my journey into London each morning, is that portion between London Bridge and Waterloo East station. Nowhere is the labyrinthian qualities of the city demonstrated better than in that mile long stretch of rail. The train snakes in between the buildings, above the workshops and Borough Market, and you get to look out onto a little piece of that chimney sweep world that is inaccessible from street level. It would be perfect for Parkour.
Its also a journey which perfectly illustrates how London is a human, organic city (this is something I’ve alluded to before):

I am entertained the thought of one set of people building something; then some other people extending it in a different archtectural style; and yet some more people knocking half the walls to reuse the space for something else. These mutated forms are what humanity has created as a collective, over centuries.

This is of course impossible in Second Life, which has no ruin value.  Via MK, I read that buildings in Second Life are being abandoned but do not decay, or worse, are being deleted wholesale without a trace.  A fundamental problem with the virtual world is that it doesn’t age like normal cities.  And what sort of city doesn’t have a history?

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