A hunger that cannot be reasoned with

It can't be easy to write a book about childhood. Especially one's own. What a blurry, colourful & complex segment of life it is, how on earth to impose structure and order on such a bubbling pot of heightened, vivid experience and irrational emotion. Without mentioning the added complications of recounting with honesty one's own childhood, in light of or despite the current self, without veering too far towards the extremes of either romanticisation or self-loathing, vis-a-vis one's former self, the two tendancies I find myself adopting alternately when considering my own early years.

All things considered, I think Amelie Nothomb makes a commendable effort in this direction. What is clear - and this much we have in common - is that the neurotic adult is the extention of an extremely neurotic child. Except in childhood, it's not regarded as neurosis, or obsessive compulsive behaviour, or any such mental disorder - all the irrational behaviour, the idiosyncracies - it's all just categorised under the umbrella term "childhood". And as such, protected by the purity and freedom from adult concerns or labels that the term implies. But I have always been convinced that many children are highly neurotic, and perhaps Nothomb finds herself at the upper end of the spectrum. The title of a book is at once a reference to the her later experience of anorexia, but also to an impulse that characterised her childhood from its very beginning - a hunger, applied to everything from love and devotion to knowledge and experience, an all-encompassing, monstrous hunger for life itself, manifested in a general approach to the world as well as in specific displays of compulsive behaviour - like binging on water, for instance. Behaviour that among adults is regarded as pathological but among children is far more innocuous and less taboo. It is the behaviour of an individual with irrational, addictive tendencies, and zero acceptance of the notion of natural limits of any kind. In the child Amelie, it is quite accute, and perhaps indicative of an individual who was and still is exceptional in her impulses towards creation and passion. But I don't believe many children can be entirely devoid of these tendencies and indeed that perhaps this is then the norm, much more so than among adults - who by then have learnt to socialise themselves into "normal" behaviour. Perhaps it is just this freedom that provokes the neurosis, the freedom from feeling one ought to think as other people think, and do as they do. The freedom from being too well-acquainted with the model of the acceptable, average individual, with with we can always compare ourselves if ever suspecting we might be straying too far towards the edges, straying into the margins of eccentricity.

It is the incremental acquiring of this realisation that curtails our childhood spirit. But not only this. Amelie Nothomb speaks of always knowing, since her earliest consciousness, that somehow, growing up would mean a "decroissance" - which I can only translate as the opposite of growing up - that is growing down, or shrinking. It refers to "a perpetual loss" - of everything. Of abilities, of imagination, of confidence, of everything. I have always felt a similar sensation throughout my own childhood. That as I grew older, I didn't get better at anything - quite the opposite. My capacities were dwindling, in every regard. But maybe that's simply an illusion, and represents the confrontation with one's own limitations that inevitably occurs at some stage. But I can't help feeling that anything I might have aspired to acheiving in my life - writing a book, mastering a sport, inventing an entirely novel concept, coming up with a ground-breaking formula, learning a language perfectly - I would have had to do in my childhood, because now it is too late. Those capacities are deserting me, if not vanished entirely. There is some truth in it, of course. Anyone who is utterly brilliant at anything, in a seemingly effortless and natural way - invariably began their activity, whatever it may be, at the earliest stage of childhood. It is a window for brilliance that can never be recaptured. And this is why growing up is in fact a decreasing of every skill, every talent, every ability one might possess. It takes us further and further away from that moment.

When considering my own childhood self as posessing universal mastery (at least the potential of it) in anything I cared to turn my hand to, I am of course adopting that first tendency of the two I mentioned above - the idolisation of the former self-child. And I think Amelie Nothomb is on occasion guilty of this as well. Clearly she hold in very high esteem her childhood self, sometimes described in such a way that makes one wonder whether any child, even one as gifted as she, could ever possess such brilliance and finesse. But maybe I am under-estimating her.

This self-mythologisation is countered I suppose with her own typically graphic and often stomach-churning account of her descent into anorexia, to the point of experiencing an out-of-body brush with death, when the self-inflicted condition was its most aggravated. It is with apparent dismay at the magnitude of her own capacity towards self-destruction that Nothomb recounts her own physical decline, in a narrative that emphasises cruelty and suffering and evokes disgust - also elements that are rarely missing from any of her works.

The condition appears to be the result of the brutal rupture that occurs between childhood and adolescence, that can often be a patch that is agonisingly difficult to traverse. Nothomb alludes to it in terms of the addition of "a new voice" ("l'addition des voix nouvelles qui se melent au recit interieur") - which are mingled with the internal dialogue, the inner narrative. And it is not a kind voice. It is harsh, shrill and above all judgemental. It is the introduction of a horrifying new concept of reality, and the loss of the childhood licence to be eccentic from which one can only draw benefit from until a certain age. Especially for the most neurotic of children, this transition is extremely painful. It is a change which occurs from an internalisation of external circumstances and voices, which is adopted by the child over time, almost inperceptibly, until it has wormed its way in and then proceeds to turn on its host with the full force of its virulence and merciless, unforgiving judgement. But of course by this stage the damage is done, it can no longer be extracted.

Amelie Nothomb has an absolutely stunning mastery of her language. It's a joy to read, or rather to let the words in the phrases wash over you. Even the words whose exact significance escaped me I could appreciate for their sound and shape and rhythm - it is really as if every word has been meticulously chosen and is invariably perfect - never a single one is jarring or out of place. What is sometimes jarring though no less poetic in its own way and certainly original, are Nothomb's sometimes surprising associations - putting together concepts which one usually wouldn't expect to find in the same sentence, inter-weaving the material and metaphysical worlds for example, and these are sometimes the moments which provoke that emotion that seems to be her most favoured, and the one which she does like no other author I've read - disgust. For example, her assertion that "The brain is composed essentially of fat. The most noble of human thoughts are born in fat." It is this uncanny ability to subvert the noble and the lyrical, even of her own sentences, and to twist it into a different, unexpected shape, that is for me the staple of Nothomb's style, and really marks her out from other francophone authors who are also doted with a wonderous way with words.

And lastly, another point in common - Quite late in the book Nothomb asserts that "of all the countries that I have lived in, Belgium is the one I have understood the least. Maybe that's what it means - to be from somewhere: not seeing (not understanding) what it is about."Maybe it is. But if so, Belgium is not the best of examples. I don't know if anyone in Belgium would claim to know or understand what this country is about. I have spent most of my life here and feel exactly the same about it, it is by far the country which I feel I understand the least. Not because I am from here. But because it is not a place which lends itself to being understood - if by that term we mean the process of reduction, simplification, generalisation and abstraction through which we understand the world around us and make sense of it all. And perhaps that is one of the best things about it.

The animation of Adam Elliot

I first had the pleasure of viewing Adam Elliot's first feature length animation film "Mary and Max" at an animation fim festival in Zagreb (Animafest) that myself & my travel companion wandered into almost by accident, seeking shelter from the rainy weather that afternoon. Last night, when I went to view it a second time at Etiuda i Anima, Krakow's own animation festival, I had the bizarre reaction of finding myself already moved to tears in the opening credits. But of course, I knew what was coming. And also because I adore the main theme, which is Perpetuum Mobile by the Penguin Cafe Orchestra.

Elliot's previous animation films can be seen on Youtube ("Cousin", "Brother" and "Harvey Krumpet" definitely, and "Uncle" I've yet to track down). There's something remarkably consistent about Elliot's films, not only is the style the same but the stories and the way they are told are too, to such an extent that they all rather feel like chapters or fragments from a larger encompassing whole - part of a longer story, even though the characters are not the same.

Elliot's imagination for thinking up cruel and unusual punishments for his characters to endure seems limitless. And he uses autobiographical elements, which are exagerated and twisted to become ironic and often surreal. There's something very Candide-esque about Elliot's characters and endless trials and suffering they must undergo, the way they seem to endure and deal with the ridiculous amounts of bad luck life throws at them with total resignation, accepting their fates and the awfulness of life largely without emotion, just a fatalistic acceptance. This is what is at once depressing and hopeful about the stories Elliot tells, and I think is probably very true to life.

The theme of the outcast, the individual who just doesn't seem suited to the world, is recurrent. These outcasts are not rewarded or redeemed, they suffer and keep on suffering till the bitter end, but implicit in the stories is the message that "fitting in" is really the least of your worries.

There is no sadness and little poignancy in the telling of Elliot's tales (although perhaps the exception is Mary & Max, which does have a slightly different feel). In the 3 shorter films I mentioned above, the twists & turns of the lives the characters, the litany of woes and misfortunes is recounted in a kind of deadpan, sometimes crude style, the narrator appears entirely unmoved by what he is describing and the look and feel of the film corresponds to this because it is all quite understated (a lack of accompanying music in the earlier films contributes to this feel, I think, and if in fact quite conspicuous by its absence).

What all Elliot's wonderfully human characters seem to share is an oustanding capacity for quiet perseverance, of trudging on with life against the odds, in the face of the sheer bloody awfulness of it all. Awfulness that is entirely without meaning & without justice. And that contributes to a kind of sad, melancholic realism, there is no glorification of suffering and little pathos, as typically is overdone in many other non-animated films.

Especially in the earlier stuff there is also a kind of ugliness to the look of the animation itself, accentuated by the lack of colour. The characters initally appeared to me as quite horrifying creatures, that would be better suited to a film of a different nature - i.e. one designed to scare & disgust, not tell a tale of the triumph of hope & humanity over almost absurd levels of adversity. But I suppose this can be compared to a director who deliberately does not use beautiful actors. In the same way, Elliot's animated characters are not smooth nor airbrushed, with an aesthetically appealing finish, but instead appear as imperfect creations, who we are faced with "warts and all."

Notice

This is an explanation of a slight alteration in the orientation of this blog, that I am hoping to develop and pursue over the coming months. Not so much a change of direction as an additional dimension/track, that I really wanted to find some channel of expression for, even if it will come at the expense of the coherence & consistency of this blog (such as it is), & what it is about. What I want to begin publishing here are personal responses to culture instead of responses to current affairs or politics. No doubt my self-indulgence has gotten out of all proportion, but it has become something that can no longer be contained inside the illegible pages of my notebooks, or within the alarmingly large collection of photographs I have accumulated, not to mention the chaotic and fragmented reflections inside my head, sparks of inspiration that flicker intensely & urgently for a while and then burn out and die away...

Of course, this is not something entirely new to this blog. When I returned from each of the two film festivals I attended last year (African in Milan, & Far-East in Udine) I felt so moved and inspired that I was compelled to pen some sort of reaction to what I'd seen. The result is hardly critical film reviews of any merit or distinction, rather they were entirely personal reactions and reflections based on subjective emotions and thoughts. But this is because my expertise in the area of film, and indeed fine art, is absolutely nil. I barely know my impressionism from my expressionism, I have to force myself to sit through anything old and in black & white, I'm hardly a great appreciator of these things. Until now, I have categorised things rather crudely into what generally resonates with me, what tends to appeal, and what doesn't (e.g. Surrealism = like, and so forth). Film especially, is something I have always kept a distance from, because the domain seems to me like a vaste quagmire of controversy and subjectivity, where really anything goes, there are no set rules, and everything constantly leads back to the debate fo what is really constitutes art, to which a satisfying answer is never acheived.

If there is one thing that can be said for the last year and a half, it's that they have opened up vaste and numerous new areas of interest to me, which have been revealed to me often by accident, and which I'm sure I'd never have discovered had I goen straight from university to a proper job (if such a thing were even possible for someone emerging from college with a degree such as mine). The film festivals, for instance, I did not attend on my own initiative. In the case of the Far-East, it was even with quite some reluctance that I accepted to go. My pre-conceptions about obscure & innaccessible material being priveleged in such cultural forums, attended by an elite of pretentious & very well-versed film students & critiques, were just too strong. But I'm so glad I did. And it's one of those things, where you really do feel as if the future path of your life, and even the shape of your own identity, in terms of tastes and "personal culture" - is defined by these chance encounters with art, of any kind, which move you. Move you to react, and just move you within yourself. Having had these encounters, your frame of reference broadens out, things which you'd never have looked twice at begin to catch your eye, you become exposed to whole new wealth of culture & experience by virtue of the fact that now you know it's out there, and how wonderful it can be. If last year taught me the value of making the effort to attend film festivals, then this year so far has definitely taught me the value of going to museums and art galleries & actually taking the time to fully understand what they are about, what they are trying to say, instead of touristically floating past everything and exiting with a final judgement picked simply from the liked/didn't like dichotomy (as I did when I stormed out of the Modern Art Gallery of Bologna, having found inside only white walls framing only empty space and occasional cinder blocks strewn around... I've since made the effort to look up the exhibit & the artist online, and it was well worth my while to do so). Art, Museums, and architecture have been for me instilled with a new value, a new richness in & of themselves which they never held for me before, as I always implicitly perceived them as areas reserved for people who "Know what they are talking about" - either through study or practice. Instead it turns out that with a minimum of attention, reflection & research, they can be not only accessible, but also tremendously inspiring, and bring new dimensions of knowledge and understanding of places, eras & events that one had never imagined before.

The key, I suppose, to unlocking this realisation was exposure. And I was lucky enough to have that exposure thrust upon me, by friends, colleagues, teachers, etc. Who suggested, coaxed, encouraged, & sometimes dragged me by the hair to places I would never have gone to under my own steam, and I have realised once I get there (or sometimes long after I have left) that they are wonderful. I could say something quite analoguous about the natural environment, actually, but that will be for another post. It seems the more areas of interest you collect & start wanting to explore, the more you realise just how few hours a day really contains.

But of course, I am still a sociologist at heart (or an aspiring one, at least). And sociologists are incapable of looking at anything without asking the rather cynical question: "cui bono?". As a recent colleague of mine reminded me "There is no such thing as an innocent discourse". This phrase sums up perfectly the approach to academics and to knowledge that I am most convinced by, and it applies just as strongly to art, in all its forms, as to other forms of discourse, such as literature, political rhetoric or the media. And this approach of taking nothing for granted, nothing as neutral, natural or self-evident, can be applied far more widely still. It is the reflex I am trying to instill in myself, and writing about culture is an exercise to that end.

No, we don't want Nick Griffin. But there's no harm in reminding ourselves why.

Nick Griffin described his appearance on Question Time as akin to facing a "lynch mob". In my opinion if that had been the case, it would have been no bad thing. But it wasn't, and it's ironic that a person who fraternises with KKK members and espouses such an intolerant ideology should appropriate such imagery. Telling, perhaps. But in saying so he insults the intelligence of the individuals who so eloquently exposed him, in a manner that was indeed emotional and violent, but quite understandably and rightly so.

I thought the programme, broadcast on thursday night, would amount to basically a regular edition of Question Time, the only difference being Nick Griffin would be able to comment about an issue that frequently comes up on the programme - namely immigration, in much the same way that some of the more disgruntled audience members tend to contribute - rolling out the usual reactionary complaints that the government has lost control of immigration, is allowing everyone and anyone to come in and sponge off the welfare system etc. (These comments always infuriate me because they are invariably full of completely false claims - like that new economic migrants to the UK can immediately receive benefits. FALSE.)

But in fact the debate was something else all together. It did discuss some current events, but essentially just as context points to start off an overarching discussion on the legitimacy (or lack thereof) of the politics of the BNP, and what the party really represents. The point being - that the legitimacy of Griffin & his party was not taken for granted - as critics of his appearance on the show suggested it would entail.

And what a wonderful decision it was, on behalf of the BBC, to give viewers the opportunity to jeer along while Griffin got skewered by British citizens who've actually made a positive contribution with their lives... I mean, when was the last time UK politics was this moving? I certainly can't remember.

Peter hain has since said that:
"Our black, Muslim and Jewish citizens will sleep much less easily now the BBC has legitimised the BNP by treating its racist poison as the views of just another mainstream political party when it is so uniquely evil and dangerous."

Actually, the BBC's decision was completely neutral. What their decision led to however - was a great deal of debate about the dangers of the BNP and far-Right politics, angry reactions and protests in opposition to Griffin and his views and a general raising of the alarm about the rise of British racism & extremism - because electorally speaking - it is on the up, and we can't ignore that. In fact doing so would be stupid and arrogant, and as I've argued before, why hand the "denial of freedom of speech" card over to such nasty individuals just so they can use it to play martyrs, it's entirely counter-productive. Let them tell us their views, let us be outraged and indignant, and then let's banish them back to the abyss from whence they crawled. Sometimes we need to be reminded about what we stand for, by being confronted with a threat to it - and receiving a severe shock in the process. As a black/Muslin/Jewish citizen, I'd sleep far less soundly knowing that the BNP was winning more & more votes, but no-one seemed to be reacting to it. Instead, the controversy has proved that the vast majority of UK citizens are disgusted by the BNP's politics, and willing to fight back against it.

There was a lot of anger from the audience, and indeed from the panel. Hatred, Racism, Disgusting, Outrageous, Repulsion - all highly emotive words that came up again & again. And were not out of place.

Because let's be completely clear about this, Nick Griffin's politics are not acceptable.

That was the overall message I got from the programme. And not just delivered in an "it's bad because it's bad" moralising way - what was so wonderful about it was that they really exposed him, and his party.

I once visited the BNP website and was genuinely shocked to discover, in a very obvious & visible place, a link to a section that contains specific instructions on how to use a particular kind of language to CONCEAL the real convictions underlying the party's "politics". They explicitly inform their party faithful (and the rest of the world, if they're interested) about how to win people to the side, gain supporters by using innocuous terms such as "identity" as euphemisms for those terms which are harder to swallow, like "racist", but which actually don't portray what the party is really about, at all. (I think now most of that content has been put here.) Painting their politics as legitimate when it isn't. What idiot would fall for that? Well, apparently quite a lot did. It seems that the strategy worked, and the pay-off, at the last elections, was such a significant gain that they have arguably acquired a kind of legitimacy by virtue of the ballot box, whatever their dishonest and misleading tactics of winning those votes may have been. But only arguably. And the opposite point was argued beautifully by some members of the panel, such as Greer and Huhne.


I'm currently doing a masters in a field of sociology. So I'm big on questions of "discourse", of "legitimacy"- this is definitely the stuff that floats my boat, academically speaking - terms which many consider little more than "waffle", even in academic circles, unfortunately. But when such a discussion about forms of expression and their implicit links to systems of power and oppression starts taking place in such a mainstream political forum as QT - I can scarcely contain my excitement. Deconstructing the rhetoric is not an activity that often takes place in such forums, generally it's taken at face value, so I was really impressed and heartened to see it.

Because instead of treating Griffin's perspectives as reasonable views, attention was drawn to what I've just described above, the BNP's explicit tactic of hidding its true colours in order to win sufficient electoral support to start implementing its vile, extremist & racist agenda.

Baroness Warsi labeled Griffin "A thoroughly deceptive man" who was "preaching extremism". Huhne also was pretty clear - reminding us that the politics of the BNP is about "looking for someone to blame" and is "as old as the hills". Greer pointed out that the BNP's version of "English history" is completely selective and absolute looney tunes. And let's not be silly. Let's none of us entertain any naive illusions about ethnic homogeneity or nationalism. That consensus was achieved thanks to policies of multiculturalism (for its sins) and political correctness (I won't have a word said against it).

Pointing out falsehoods and lies when they're presented, especially dangerous ones, and on national television, is crucial, and I'm frequently disappointed with Question Time for not operating that policy when audience members come out with lies about immigration. But on this occasion, they were well prepared, instead of allowing a racist discourse to creep into a conversation in a seemingly innocuous way, they exposed it and hammered it into the ground.

I found it all immensely reassuring. Because the worst thing would be - for us to allow a "banalisation" of the far-Right discourse to occur, as is the case in France, where people are desensitised to the dangers and accept their hateful views as just part of the political landscape because that's how they're treated. (this comparison is insightful.)

Last Thursday the tone of audience & panelists oscillated between anger & mockery. Compare & contrast this to any appearance of a member of the "Front National" on mainstream French Television. The tables are turned, it's Marine Le Pen in this instance, who gets outraged and indignant when someone criticises her father for being a racist.

What was so brilliant about the exposing for Nick Griffin was the strong sense that alarm bells are now ringing, that here is a dangerous individual, posing under the veneer of acceptability, without abhorrent political views, and seeking to obtain credibility. And the answer needs to be a resounding: "You can whistle for it."

If this post seems angry I make no apologies, nor do I think the angry black Britons from hard-working families should apologise for their rage. But everyone has a right to be angry about it. And I don't think even the joker who insulted him by deliberately mispronouncing his name should apologise. Why should we take Griffin seriously? After all, he is not a serious politician, he is a racist extremist trying to actively HIDE his true convictions, distort the facts, using the most deceptive kind of spin.

The audience included a lot of young, mixed race individuals, presumably mostly Londoners, who Griffin subsequently described as not "English". Unfortunately for Nick Griffin, these people are absolutely "English" and they represent the future of the population of "England". Thank God.

Lisbon the Sequel - A Foreign Perspective

When I was involved in campaigning for the Yes during the referendum on the Lisbon Treaty last time around, there seemed to be a ruthlessly determined No side who passionately used any argument their imaginations could conjure to cite as reasons for a vote against. Whereas the Yes side, as far as my recollection goes, and apart from the likes of JEF (the Young European Federalists) and other such exceptions, was far more measured, acknowledging reasons to be dubious and accepting certain criticisms emanating from the No camp. To the point where many final Yes voters and even campaigners seemed to have spent a long time agonising over their decision, because of the compromises it required. Most of the people I had aligned myself with politically, for instance, had attitudes which were positive overall but attenuated by the apprehensions they nursed about the Treaty's actual content, and some of the more difficult to defend aspects of the EU in general.

This time around, it seems the Yes side has learnt from those responsible for its defeat - that such honest doubts and ambivalence are not to be afforded, if a victory is to be won. As a result, we have a Yes side that seems to have acquired the steely determination of its adversaries, as well as its ability to stop at nothing to ensure it goes their way. The cost is obvious. The pay-off as yet unknown.

If I was in Ireland and voting this time around, I'd probably abstain. I'm not trying to be provocative - or wait, only slightly - but essentially I've found so unpalatable the campaigning, even from outside the country, that I don't think I could bear giving a vote that would favour either side in this charade of a "second referendum".

I think when it comes to bullying tactics, neither side has shown itself to be particularly scrupulous. The Yes side have descended to insinuating, or even declaring outright that if Irish people vote no the EU will expell their nation, putting them back into a relationship of dependency with Britain. The idea of an Irish no vote as translating an assertion of independance is nothing but a silly myth, and the reality is that voters have to choose which camp they prefer (or least dread) or else we'll be set for a long hard winter of isolation. Think North Korea or Albania a couple of decades ago.

Of course, this rather pales in comparison to the threats made by the NO side - basically all of your worst fears will come to pass, and then some. Beyond being dubious tactics, most of it is just nonsense, as if Lisbon and the EU are the antithesis of religion and all that is holy (who are the people effectively running the EU? The same sort of people running France & Germany - conservative christians, last time I looked.) It lays itself open to legitimate ridicule because it actively misinforms, and in doing so harms its own cause - or it would if people bothered to find out the truth which, when it comes to the EU, people just never seem to do.

Perhaps as a response to this phenomenon the new & improved Yes side has acquired a slick new look, brought in people who clearly know a thing or two about marketing a product, as well as the value of charismatic orators, and all their arguments have been boiled down to snappy soundbites. While there's nothing wrong with that per se, it makes me personally instinctively more distrustful of their discourse, because there seems to be a concerted effort being made to purposely put the onus on style over substance. As if an attempt is being made to draw our attention away from something else. To put it bluntly, I know the bitter pills and the complexity are being swept under the carpet, and I just don't buy it.

What also makes me uneasy on the Yes side is the sense I have that underlying the new, aggressive drive is an agenda that was absent last time around, which I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe it's just paranoia. But a more solid reason for a protest abstention (or the temptation of such a vote - notwithstanding its complete futility) would be about there even being a referendum at all given the total lack of free and clear information, the level of scaremongering and disinformation. So much for a free and independent choice, but then I suppose you could say the same of a vote on anything, and certainly of any election.

In campaigning for the Yes myself I had to overlook a lot of things that didn't sit right with me, and had to defend them (the EU's attitude to immigration is a particularaly jarring one). That's what being in a political party entails (and which incidentally is partly the reason I no longer am).

Other factors that have contributed to the shift in my views would be getting on the wrong side of EU bureaucracy last year year, which taught me just how irrational, not to say infuriating, it can be.On a less pratical and more theoretical level - there was the highly revealing and profoundly depressing information I acquired during a seminar given by the Corporate Europe Observatory (CEO). Information about the close links between the EU institutions and "commercial interests" - it's not even links - they kind of meld into one another without anyone being able to distinguish where to draw the line (an example - when executives of big companies are called in to act as "experts" on panels when legislation is being drawn up - giving them more power and influence than the members of the European Parliament - this stuff is routine). That showed me a different side of Brussels than the one I've known all my life. The one where NGOs campaigning for transparency, for environmental and social justice, equality, etc, are completely trodden on, dwarfed and drowned out by the immense weight of the towering commercial entities and those representing their interests. Where consultancy firms who've defended everyone from South American dictators to war criminals and fraudsters operate without anyone raising an eyebrow from their luxurious offices just across from the Berlaymont.

I haven't quoted anything in this post because it's more about the issue as an emotive one for me, my reactions to what I've followed of the whole thing, as well as my own recent experiences which have led me to my current perspective. That's exactly what it is, a perspective.

I cannot defend the whole project. I could not say YES to the whole treaty. Maybe I am becoming more of a reactionary in my old age, more like Besancenot in believing that actually, instead of toeing the line, instead of going along with it, and hoping things get better, why not spend my time and energy taking the steps towards fighting for, defending and creating the Europe that I WANT.

But alongside these improbable aspirations, there exists a real world. And while we're constrained to exist inside it I'll still advise anyone who'll listen to vote Yes. For the same reason that it is better to have the Europe we do have, than no Europe at all. Because it has brought about good things, and has the potential to do a great deal more. So support the yes side, because no matter how iffy their campaign has been, they're still better than those jokers on the No side who have trafficked in the most outrageous of untruths, and employed the most shameful of tactics. That's unfortunately what democracy is all about.

The 11th Hour

Since I watched this film at the start of the summer, I've been wanting to write a comment or review on it. The film surprised me, in a positive way. It doesn't shy away from the complexity of the themes which it opens up, and overall treats the issues without excessive poignancy, drama or simplification.

The way the film is put together, like many other documentaries, involves Various strands of narratives being juxtaposed, ideas from commentators, scientists, sociologists, philosophers, etc. But without there being a clear, single message overall (unlike the Inconvenient Truth, if my memory serves at all). All the contributors are intelligent people, they just don't seem to be able to agree with one another which gives the film somewhat of a schizophrenic feel and perhaps a slight lack of coherence because of the number of different angles presented.It leaves the viewer coming away with more questions than answers and a few uneasy contradictions to ponder. But that's no bad thing.

The really beautiful and inspiring thing about the film is that it reminds us we should be in a permanent state of awe at the planet. Not just at the world as a whole, but also the most seemingly mundane everyday details like our own bodies which are, I dont want to say masterpieces or miracles to avoid straying anywhere near creationist lingo, but you know what I mean.One commentator takes a moment to express his wonderment at the millions of simultaneous processes going on every split second inside our own bodies, something I think it's worth remembering every so often.

But this film is a long, long way from creationism and that's one of the things I liked most about it. It extolls the reassuring continuity of existence, the sheer beauty of evolution. And, for example, presents something like extinction as fundamentally natural, and an integral part of that process, far from being a failure of the system. I think this is where the film's superior strength really lies, as a celebration of evolution.The idea that life goes on whatever happens, and how wonderful that is.

The other thing I like about the film is its breadth of scope, its ambition. Not so much about asking people to turn the red light off as calling for a full-scale paradigm shift, and being upfront about the fact that nothing short of that is going to turn things around.

We need a shift from "Well-having" to "wellbeing" says Nathan Gardels, we need to change the object of desire, putting welfare as the objective, rather than growth. In other words, we need a cultural transformation, a shift in the way our culture interacts with the environment.

It's useful to be reminded of just how superficial and tenuous are the doctrines which regiment our lives and systems of belief. Our expectations are growing with the resources are not. The economy can be regarded as a subsystem, while the parent-system (the biosphere) doesn't grow (again that wonderful constancy). This failure to see the linkages, the arrogance of it, are fundamentally short-sighted, it is as if one floats above the other rather than being embedded within it, completely dependant on it. More evidence of that disconnect that now exists between us and our environment.

Another commentator describes what we have currently as a waste-producing economy, in other words we are in a cycle of transforming resources into waste. In nature there is no waste, and so green design needs to find inspiration from natural processes (I beleive the term one lady has coined is "biomimicry").

Worth mentioning also is Thom Hartmann's "Ancient sunlight" notion to describe the energy we use which enables to sustain 10 billion people on the planet. In other words - we are seriously pushing our luck.

Some of those contradictions I mentioned:

- Will the earth regenerate itself or will it turn into a frozen wasteland like Venus forever? The predictions are contradictory.

- I was also not convinced by the initial footage of natural disasters which unfortunately is used to open the film (we'll indulge them and call it a necessary visual "accroche" device) alongside the claim that these are not just isolated events, even though the media portrays them as such (arguable). Are there more natural disasters or is there just more coverage?

- And a parallel question - are there more diseases or just too many people in the world? Are chemicals leading to cancer or are we just living longer?

Besides which, images of natural disasters used carelessly is seriously at risk of falling into unoriginal over-simplified scare-mongering. And it's certainly not unnatural, in fact chaos and upheaval are profoundly natural, as opposed to the pristine, fragile, perfect view of nature favoured by creationists and the wrong sort of conservationists.

If there is a overarching thread that runs through the entire film it seems to be that life is tenacious and adaptable, as a whole, but paradoxically individual elements within it (such as our own species) are intensely vulnerable. If we remain under the delusion that nature is fragile while we ourselves are invincible, we will fall into a trap that is quite literally as old as the hills.

When I heard Michael Jackson had died, I laughed.

Exactly the same way I laughed when I heard Lisa "Left-eye" Lopez of TLC had been killed in a car crash, at the heart-wrenching age of 30. Not because it was funny, but because I wanted to react. These were two people - two artists who'd made a real impact on my life. Who I'd sat listening to for hours, whose videos I'd watched in fascination, whose words I'd looked up and tried to decrypt, whose charisma and laughter, such as I'd perceived it, had touched me at some stage or other in such a way that I came to view them as heroic figures.

But of course, all this has actually very little to do with those two individuals, as once they were, and far more to do with me, and my tastes in popular culture, the cds I buy, and my subsequent definition of my tastes as a characteristic of my identity. It's intensely personal, and of course it's a purely one-way street. Moreover, if you're going to be so dogmatic as to make statements like "such & such is my favourite song/record of all time" or "so and so is my absolute hero for life", as I have, then inevitably you've situated yourself firmly inside the realm of hyperbole.

So when such news as this breaks, I feel as if I should - well, feel. And of course I don't, not really, I'm not about to burst into tears because it just isn't that kind of loss. So nervous, guilty, awkward laughter is the only thing that comes out. Which is more emotion, certainly, than I manifested over the death of Diana, or Jade Goody, or Heath Ledger, or Anthony Minghella, or any other public figure I'd simply spent less time investigating, thinking about, and building up in my mind as a symbol of artistic genius and triumph over adversity, and tragedy all at once.

Where are the messages about Iran?? Cry my worldy, politically-preoccupied peers on Facebook. Good question. But why didn't you ask it on the day Neda was killed, or anyone else for that matter, rather than the morning after Michael Jackson has died. Michael Jackson doesn't negate Iran, as far as I'm aware, and there's a time and a place for everything. Just because I contribute to the sharing of old favourite michael Jackson videos doesn't mean I thumb my nose at Iranian students fighting for liberation, and I resent the implication that it does.

The bad news is, it's far too easy to be sarky about the death of Michael Jackson. It's not shocking in the same way that jokes about Madeline Mccann were or are. Micheal Jackson became a media circus in himself, and had become such an eccentric it almost feels as if he died of natural causes, in fact in some ways it's amazing he lasted as long as he did given the odds stacked against him and the apparently limited average life expectancy of child superstars.

I think it's even easier to be sarky about Jackson than Jade Goody's death. In such cases, cracking jokes in an attempt to shock and appall is a waste of time and effort, while cracking jokes out of apathy is just mundane, we've heard them all before - it's far more useful and original to, I don't know, make some intelligent commentary about it, rather than either fuelling the frenzy - or simply criticising it as idiocy. I'm referring of course to Charlie Brooker and what he had to say about Jade's death - a million miles from the irritatingly obvious "why do all these idiots care so much" discourse that 85% of those commenting about it adopted (with the remaining 15% admitting they actually did care, and commenting about it from that perspective).

I suppose the above is targeted at journalists who churn out rubbish like this, with disconcerting rapidity.

What's unbeleivable about Hadley's article, apart from the paradox of the media complaining about the media by criticisng the public reaction it created itself, is that under a seemingly insightful byline such as the second half of hers here, she then proceeds to defend the public reaction to the death of Diana as in some way legitimate, or presumably more legitimate at least than the public reaction to Jackson's death (which funnily enough hasn't really fully occured yet).
Surely the massive, gaping difference between Michael Jackson and Diana is that she never produced anything that could realistically have meant something to people on the scale of Micheal Jackson's contribution to music, or its reach. And yet people took to the streets in angry, devastated tears, to mourn her as a person, presumably, just like grieving relatives - something which is impossible to do if you are not actually a grieving relative who knew the person - so what on earth is that if not "false emotion"?

People cried over Take That splitting up too - and of course it was an over-reaction. But if you think about it, it's just as logical because it kind of represented the end of an era, and that now no new music would be made, no more live shows could be attended, no new records to be bought and enjoyed (mercifully of course, in retrospect, that turned out not to be the case). The people who bought Michael Jackson's newest records and enjoyed them, myself among them, will see this as a loss which can be relieved by no such resurrection, fascination with the man himself aside. And he really was fascinating to me, but then again, I find Pete Burns fascinating. Which just goes to show.

On the brighter side, at least we still have Janet, another long-time object of my tendency towards heroification (and unlike the Take That sarcasm, this I genuinely mean).

I'll leave you with that song, as well some of the brilliant comments made in response to Hadley's article. For once, internet commenters restoring my faith in humanity rather than annihilating it. Those Guardian moderators deserve a raise.

"Why are you telling us? You want to have a word with your colleagues, who are plastering Jacko all over the front page of the website and newspaper in an attempt to force the Diana effect. Nothing more annoying than the meedja telling us not to listen to the meedja."

"Bringin' up Diana again, ugh! More blanket coverage from the lazy media on corpse stories. Get out there and do some journalism."

"What WAS the point of this article? You've basically said, "Look at you all talking about Michael Jackson. I'm not talking about Michael Jackson, I'm talking about you talking about Michael Jackson"
Balls."

"This article is so quick off the mark, I question whether you even had time to actually gauge how people are reacting before you started writing it."

"Hadley, go back to discussing dresses. This is the antithesis of the Diana moment, as in Jacko was everything she wasn't. Poor and talented, tragic and flawed. There is something deeply moving about the Peter Pan of pop who ironically spent millions trying to extend his life span dying young."

"Well I was going to have a collective outpouring of grief, but now that Hadley Freeman (whoever she is) has said we're not allowed to, I won't.
Regards, The Nation.
Seriously Hadley, how overblown is your sense of self regard that you can pontificate on stuff like this? At least wait until the body's cold."

Little fiddly things

I've some loose ends that want tying up, without anything so focused as a particular argument or observation.

First, about those pesky pirates that everyone is so up in arms about, and yet simultaneously enthralled by because, after all, who didn't enjoy Pirates of the Caribbean? Somehow the romantic, comical cartoon vision of pirates doesn't quite fit with the terrifying lawlessness and grinding poverty afflicting the tragic non-nation of Somalia, the world's number 1 basket case country. And yet no journalist seems to be able to avoid the temptation of juxtaposing the two in some way.
For me, easily the most enlightening and useful piece on the whole matter, is the testimonial of a young pirate as relayed to the BBC: Why I became a pirate

This seems to be the real tragedy. We're astounded at the numbers of those braving the dangerous seas in ridiculous boats en route to Europe, from Africa. The reaction of the Southern European countries seems to be to either watch them drown or just send them back home again. The journey is perilous and often fatal, and those on the other side could scarcely be less welcoming. Given the choice, any choice, what would you do?

Next, a quick plug for the Big Think - a website I've just discovered that is at once fantastic and frightening (because it seems to eliminate the need for newspapers entirely - now you can also get your dose of opinion/editorials as well as straighforward news online). I especially enjoy watching David Rieff being all disgruntled and armchair-intellectualy on a downer about Obama.

Last weekend I was at the Far East Film Festival in Udine, something I initally resisted on the grounds that "I don't like martial arts". But I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. Although on the surface the whole thing appeared quite pretentious, in a way that the African Film festival wasn't (I imagine because the far-east has a more extensive and distinctive tradition of film-making, which many of the people there seemed to be intimidatingly familiar with). But the films themselves were really enjoyable (not so much harrowing ordeals as in Milan, mainly because these were "popular" films, with hearthrob actors and mega-budgets). We saw a rather OTT Hong Kong action thriller and 4 japanese films, which were full of wonderful quirky moments and characters, indicating the Japanese appreciate and understand far better the eccentricities of their own people than we do (like the penchant of japanese girls for "cute" things and the almost excessive politeness of the older generation especially) and manage to use that aspect to comic effect excellently. Instant Swamp (left) deserves a special mention, because I seldom laugh out loud at films, especially at visual jokes, I'm generally much more tickled by word-play and delivery, but this film had moments of genuinely hilarious brilliance. I also learnt the valuable fact that there are some incredibly, achingly beautiful Far-eastern men being most considerately cast by the film-makers out there, such as Mizushima Hiro (below). And I didn't come home empty-handed either, but with 3 japanese horror films as a consolation for missing "Horror day". Mmhmm.

Last thing, I read an article in a certain former broadsheet newspaper last week, essentially criticising the latest media campaign by the charity Women's Aid, which shows Kiera Knightley being beaten up by her boyfriend. Yeah ok, maybe a campaign showing Brad Pitt doing the beating would have been an original twist, but picking on them seems a bit rich, all the same. For me, this one does the job, as in - I'd already read about its precise contents before seeing it and it still managed to give me a good shake. Below it you can catch up on the debate about whether or not, as some devil's advocates claim, Violence against women is a social invention, a phenomenon that has been constructed and detracts attention from the real problem of violence in general. Maybe. I'll have to go away and think about that one.

Getting off on the right foot

It's happening...

I suppose I would've seemed a killjoy back in november if I'd suggested that maybe we should hold off the party until after Obama has succeeded in making the world a better place, rather than pre-emptively. But of course it was never going to be so simple.

You've probably seen this touching little video by now. Ostensibly to mark the occasion of Nawruz, Iranian new year, Obama sends a special message to the peoples of the Middle-east & with a special mention in there for "the leaders of Iran" who should pay particularly close attention, if they know what's good for them.

In the short segment he explains how Iranians (or just their leaders? I'm not too sure) "have a choice" - they have a right to take their rightful place in the international world order, but with that right comes real responsibility (rings a bell... Oh I know, it's a line from Spiderman).

I can only imagine that this video must have left its target audience intensely bemused. I certainly was. I mean, what exactly are they supposed to do now? Is this really how international politics works?

No, of course it's not. What Obama is saying and the way he is saying it might seem to be a break with continuity as far as the face of American foreign policy goes, but other, arguably more substantial aspects of it, don't seem to be changing too rapidly at all.
It doesn't seem as if the US is about to radically rethink its disproportionate support (both political & military) for the State of Israel, making it a clear and persistent security threat in the region which the people of Iran and all its neighbours have an obvious reason to be very concerned about. A lesser known American-sponsored threat to the country are the People's Mujahedin, a militant islamic organisation which aims to overthrow the Iranian government, explains Mohsen Rezai in his editorial (of which I've only a paper copy, forgive lack of reference).
Then there's the economic sanctions, which Obama decided not to lift. This might just have some bearing on the everyday lives of Iranians as well, given how it in no small way contributes to stunting the development of the country & its economy. In fact he's even contemplating tightening them. (So hardly surprising to learn that Ali Khamenei should react by asking "what change?", more on his response over here.)

But Obama didn't mention any of this in his little video greeting card. Instead of confronting the conditions which breed terrorism, he contents himself with asking them nicely to stop it. If this method doesn't work, when America finally loses patience, those Iranians won't be able to say they were not warned!

In Turkey, as all across Europe, over the past few days Obama has been welcomed with open arms, greeted with cheers and euphoria. He may be black, a democrat, and below the age of 60 but he is above all the President of the United States. There seems to be a generalised case of amnesia on this. I've just started reading "Dreams from my Father", the earlier of his autobiographies. I'm willing to believe he's a thoroughly nice person with some really commendable ideas. But Obama is not american politics. He will not and cannot change the nature of how power works in the world, and that's the fundamental problem. No matter how noble his intentions he is subject to the formidable range of pressures & influences of those in the world who have power and capital, but don't need to worry about votes or opinion polls.

So why do people seem to think he can or will? The way Obama is being received across the world makes me so uneasy because it's as if he is infallible, and he seems to have procured American policy a new legitimacy which it has done nothing yet to deserve, as far as I can see.

And it's not just naive, it's dangeous, as I wrote earlier in the month. Obama may have a heart of gold but like all politicians he should be constantly under the hammer and above all not given the benefit of the doubt. If anything, those of us who belong the Tony Benn anti-war school of thought should see him as more dangerous than his predecessor rather than less. Because George Bush could never have gotten away with starting another war after Iraq. But Obama CAN. He certainly has never had the courage to categorically rule out a military intervention, as Roger Cohen points out.

If in five years the world is a safer, fairer and more peaceful place, I will be the first one at the party, eating my words with relish and toasting to change.

Stories you couldn't make up

I'm just back from the African Film Festival of Milan, which was on all week. We were due to go up for a day to get the films we need for our own African film festival, which starts tomorrow, but I ended staying for 3 days because the catalogue was so intriguing.

The word most frequently used by the Italians to indicate films they'd appreciated is "bello" - which of course generally translates as beautiful, or nice.

After having watched some of the films recommended under this epithet for myself, I couldn't help feeling that such a qualification was terribly inappropriate. These films aren't nice and and with a few exceptions, they aren't beautiful either. They depict some of the ugliest, most miserable, desperate places & situations on earth. Prisons, shantytowns, warzones, slums, ghettos, refugee camps... The kind of environments that could strip any human being of their spirit, but yet in the midst of which glimpses of humanity occasionally appear, which makes it all the more poignant & unbearable.

I learnt pretty rapidly that the films I watched at the festival would not be noted on my next christmas list. You wouldn't want to watch films with scenes of murder, torture, rape & incest over & over, first because its too upetting, but also because seeing it again would make it less shocking, less traumatising, the initial effect is the most important, after which a second view would make you somewhat immune, & desensitised.

The two which stood out for me, in terms of provoking just this kind of trauma, delivering the kind of punch in the stomach that leaves you twitching for days, were these:

To See if I'm Smiling (Israel) - A documentary made up of interviews with young female Israeli soldiers. In Israel, apparently, military draft is obligatory for all youths as of the age of 18. I think this goes a long way to explaining the collective mentality of the country, as I see it. Why Israelis never seem to be capable of measured, rational debate, but never fail to hop on the defensive, to react as if under attack when criticised. To see themselves first & foremost as Israelis whatever the context. When every single member of a population has experienced being in that defensive position, of insecurity and fear, where there is no empathy whatsoever with the people regarded as the "ennemy", it's quite logical that they should become reactionary as a result, and lose all perspective. When an entire population has suffered the trauma of war & combat, this is the result.

Leonera (Argentina) - I won't try to review it but all I can say is I left with a feeling in my chest of actual physical tightness that I can't quite describe properly. A film about how "ordinary" people can be drawn to the depths of desolation, how normality can become hell overnight, and humanity can vanish in a second.

The films I saw at the festival, especially these two, weren't films that make you cry, like Titanic, Cold Mountain, or Love Actually.

Rather, they just leave you feeling limp (in the sense Chinua Achebe describes in "Things Fall Apart"), drained in the face of the unfathomable horror of it all - the unbearable lightness of death, as one of the Israeli girls puts it.

Films like these are not a pleasant experience so much as an ordeal. Within them play out scenes that leave you at a complete loss, about everything, because they are just so difficult, and so ambivalent. Scenes of the awful things people do to one another, and others of the incredible sacrifices they can make. Stories that portray human fragility and human resilience, but don't answer the question of which ultimately wins out most of the time. All this paints a disturbingly complex picture where good & bad are impossible to distinguish, a million miles from the easy Manichaeism of Hollywood & its reassuring conclusions about the state of universe.

Watching the films and hearing the directors speak about them got me to thinking about the relationship between film-making and activism. I suppose shedding light on injustice is a laudable endeavour, but spending millions on film-making somehow seems excessive. I suppose it can depend on the concrete results, Blood Diamond for example, has lead to massive raise in awareness of the ties between the diamond mining industry and civil conflict in Africa. The result has been a much greater interest in obtaining ethically sourced diamonds. There is an argument to be made for art for the sake of art, of course, but that particular can of worms I'll save for another post.

It was fitting really, for the festival to be happening in Milan, which I'd describe as a difficult city itself. There's something incredibly alienating about the place, I don't know if it's the emphasis on the commercial which makes it feel somewhat soulless and superficial, or perhaps the contrasts of the slick city centre a few minutes away from the frighteningly ugly grey tower blocks on the outskirts. I suppose both lack some kind of human quality, in different ways, and it makes the city quite a sad place. Seeing a roma camp on my train ride from the suburbs into the city, with all the squalid little shacks made out of iron and cardboard jostling for space in the darkness of the tunnel under the motorway also came as a bit of a shock. This is northern Italy for goodness sake, not Kosovo. It seems that everywhere has its ugly, shadowy places but in Milan I felt I encountered more than usual.

And everywhere I went I heard foreign languages, which I would try to place... Russian on the metro, amharic in the ethiopian call shop, arabic on the train, polish in the restaurant, something balkan spoken by the musicians on the tram... I couldn't help wondering each time if maybe they had similar stories to those I'd just been watching. In Milan, it seems everyone is an immigrant. Even the italians we encountered seemed to have all migrated from the South. And the result isn't exactly a picture of multicultural harmony. Back in september a black youth was beaten to death by an Italian shopkeeper and his son. But unfortunately, I don't think these are the kinds of people who go to this festival (not to say turnout was lacking - the showings were invariably packed out) which makes me wonder whether such a festival really helps in a city like Milan. With the much loathed Roma stuck hiding in the shadows of the underpass, and poor italian & foreign migrants alike stacked up in isolated high-rise flats, is it any wonder the situation seems on the verge of exploding.

A paradoxical piety

Far be it from me to come across as a religious sympathiser (as my earlier affirmation that maybe the death of religion would make the world a more boring place might have suggested), but I have to agree with what the defenders of Pope Benedict are saying. I.E. that one shouldn't just focus on two lines taken out of context, and ignore the rest of what someone says which qualify an assertion by putting it within a certain paradigm and system of values. It's true that if you read the full speech the Pope actually gave, it lends at least a shred or two of credibility and meaning to a statement that appears otherwise completely absurd, something only an idiot or a madman could say. The Pope thinks condoms make the problem of AIDS worse not because they spread the HIV virus in themselves but because they are a means to having control over one's own sex life, as opposed to being bound by the laws of reproduction, something it's no secret the Catholic Church disagrees with. It may not be right, but it at least has the virtue of consistency and a certain logic. The Catholic Youth such as those who so maliciously and violently attacked Green & Communist youth in Paris a few days ago, have deplored the short-sightedness of the media in ignoring the rest of their Pope's words and merely zooming in on a small but crucial fragment of what he actually said. As someone who tires of media polemics which constantly make "news stories" out of (frequently misquoted) statements from famous people rather than out of actual news in the form of real events that are taking place, I think they have a point.

Communist & Green Protesters outside Notre-Dame last sunday needed police protection

But what they don't seem to understand is that by making this point they've hit on exactly the reason why the pope's words were so irresponsible and deplorable. As someone with access to the internet and many other sources of information besides, I can look up the pope's speech in full after having read the outraged media headlines provoked by his "condoms aggravate the problem of AIDS" statement, should I be so inclined. But many people in Cameroon, Angola, and the various other African nations hosting him during his visit, do not. Therefore if the message extracted from his pious speech is just that: condoms to be avoided at all costs, basically there is little reason to believe the discussion will go any further, for many. Not because Africans lack any kind of cognitive capacity for critical thinking, but it's no secret that information about HIV/AIDS and sexuality in general is hardly widespread, and frequently subject to distortions and myths about how the disease is contracted and cured. We know this.

The NGOs who have been so upset by the pope's words are not necessarily against sexual abstinence, of course, just horrified that in one breath he has no doubt set them back a good few years in their work trying of trying to stem the spread of the disease and educate people about how to protect themselves.

There is no reason to suspect that Africans are not prone to the same tendencies of simplified assumptions and short-sighted thinking as everyone else has been. There is no reason to expect, especially with less access to information and less resources, that they should analyse the pope's words any more deeply than anyone else has bothered to. If Catholics are hoping that the full meaning and nuances of what the Pope was trying to say in terms of promoting abstinence and sexuality reserved for reproduction, will be not only understood but also adhered to by all Africans at risk of contracting AIDS, they really will need to be praying for miracle.

I'm not too optimistic that the Catholic Youth will be able to get their heads around this, especially since they don't seem to realise how physical and verbal attacks on a small group of peaceful protesters desperately undermines their otherwise perfectly legitimate and laudable calls for a more nuanced and informed debate about the issue. But these are just the kind of frequent inconsistencies and blatant displays of hypocrisy that always make me wonder whether people who still, apparently, manage to be staunch Catholics are really just having us all on, and in fact it's all an elaborate hoax.

A European pathology

Upon a first reading of this article (thank you l'Internazionale) I was deeply offended.

The arrogance of one yank undertaking the psycho-analysis of an entire continent - classified as "schizophrenic" and afflicted with "stockholm's syndrome" is breath-taking. The characterisation of the collective European personality as completely neurotic, not to mention cowardly and naive, desperate the hide under the skirt of mother America, seems almost too provocative to be taken seriously at all, more like satire. It reminds me of the name-calling and insults that were targetted against the European countries that decided not to go to war in 2003.

On a second reading, this time in my own language (thank you the Times Online), I like it. It rains on the parade of the kind of Obamaphilia and euphoria that I was never really convinced by. I mean yeah, this kind of thing is poignant but you know it's just too good to be true. Obama's speeches always made me somewhat uneasy, because of the religious overtones (a million people chanting back "yes we can" in repetition is just too close to the chorus of "amen" after every line in a sermon) and because of their poetic, vague, and abstract nature.

That said, in our defence, I think Europeans can be glad Obama was elected even though we know he isn't going to be any kind of saviour or great redeemer. Of course he is not going to eliminate all the injustices in the world. He is a politician and as such part of the establishment, and as George Monbiot points out in Bring on the Apocalypse, you simply can't expect to acheive global justice or attain goals such as "making poverty history" without confronting the current global order and distribution of power. It's really inconvenient.

But! If the United States were to start showing signs of engaging with the rest of the world, to seriously commit to tackling climate change and cutting carbon emissions, to close Guantanamo bay, it seems to me these would already be significiant improvements and evidence of progress towards making the world a safer and fairer place. It is not as if the politics and actions of a country like the US have no bearing on the rest of the world, and affect, directly or indirectly, the quality of life of billions.

In this sense, Obamamania is not misguided, nor it "idiocy" or "political blunder". It might be excessive, and over-zealous, but it is at least somewhat justified. Besides, part of the euphoria and air of celebration is also to do with saying goodbye and good riddance to Bush which, after 8 years, I think justifies a party. Or at least a drink.

Rieff certainly doesn't mince his words when it comes to harshly criticising Europeans, in all their naive idiocy, for supporting Obama because he will not act in a way that serves their best interests. But what he doesn't focus enough on are the dangers of such a collective attitude, not just for Europeans but for everyone who lives in the world (including Americans - because who said he can solve all of their problems anyway?).

It reminds me of the "Spice Girls argument", a theory a friend of mine came up with. The theory goes that it's actually very dangerous when apparent improvements and progress seem to be occuring, because it tips people into complacency, into thinking the problem is on its way out. For example, the Spice Girls did more damage to the feminist movement than anything because they made people THINK this was evidence of gender equality and female empowerment, which in fact it wasn't, or at least - might have been only at a very limited, and superficial level.

Applied to this case, it holds that Barack Obama is very bad news because people will "go back to sleep" as Rieff puts it, stop criticising and scrutinising the US as they did when Bush was in power, even though in reality, american politics will probably remain business as usual, in many ways. Now America has got its credibility back. The old-school "Fuck Bush" anti-americanism is muted if not defunct entirely, and the most worrying thing is that maybe now a page has been turned. Perhaps our memory will not stretch back to the awful, fatal mistakes of the Bush administration, because they are seen as belonging to another era. This is the danger, that perhaps next time America, with its brand new face, suggests going to war to its Western allies, we will give them the benefit of the doubt.

The circus is in town

The placards have gone up all around the city, and outside the station near where we live there's men in strange uniforms giving out those fluorescent-coloured leaflets to the people in cars stopped at red lights.

This must have been what inspired whoever came up with a new campaign from the European Commission, called "Do you know what social Europe can do for you?"

You can decide for yourself, but to my mind, the set of 6 little cartoons, although being extremely cute and amusing and definitely worth showing to all european citizens up to the age of 6, doesn't really answer the question it sets out for itself.

It seems the Commission still hasn't quite managed to nail the delicate balance between rendering its endeavours comprehensible and accessible, while avoiding boiling down a point so many times you end up insulting the intelligence of 99% of your audience.

Another underrated war

Consciousness-raising seems to be a several-fold process. It doesn't happen overnight or in a flash, rather, it evolves through a series of encounters of various kinds. Little fragments here & there, the combination of which culminates into a kind of intriguing void, a question mark, the beginning of a search for answers, and a better understanding. And in parallel, the developing realisation, the troubling discovery that something isn't been spoken about nearly as much as it should be, given what's actually happening.

But of course, selective attention shouldn't be something that surprises me anymore, and yet it does - for instance the way the media & goverment in west european countries seems to still focus mainly on events in their ex-colonies (as opposed to other developing countries). Media coverage and governments statements of outrage or solidarity in any country seem then to be correlated essentialy with the proportion of the population there with origins back in that country, rather with the level and scale of oppression, violence and/or conflict taking place. Case in point - Mugabe turns out not to be the household villain name he is in the UK, in France for example, where on the other hand they tend to talk far more often about Senegal, Mali... Maybe this sounds normal but in any case it's worth bearing in mind when assessing the relative gravity of the most lamentable plights of people around the world - i.e. that any such assessment is bound to be a million miles from objective.

I'm ashamed to say that before I did a minimum of reading up on the matter, I didn't know that Sri Lanka has been marred by a vicious civil conflict for over two decades. Lately there has been a steady trickle of news stories on the BBC website about the situation, for instance, containing tentative predictions that the Sri Lankan government forces are on the verge of victory against the Tamil Tiger rebels.

But overall, perhaps for the absence of petrol, pirates or a prominent enough position on the axis of evil, the ongoing conflict doesn't seem to warrant all that many news inches, or much discussion at all. Atrocities such as suicide bombings, children & civilians engaged on the frontlines, and assassinations on a massive scale (dare we say - genocide?) quitely play out as if there was nothing urgent nor untoward about the situation at all.

I'll recount the fragments which first triggered my subsequent reading-up on the matter.

First, there was the interview we did, as part of our research/documentary on the lives of immigrants in our quarter of town. It was with the owner of the Sri Lankan restaurant opposite the port, a tiny little place but probably the best place to eat in this town for its quality to price ratio, and run single-handedly by an absolute gem of man known to most as "Lal" (Sri Lankans seem to want to continually outdo each other in terms of the maximum number of syllables that can be crammed into their given names, so please forgive my ignorance for failing to recall the entirety of his.)



In our interview Lal recited a refrain that was strangely familiar in that we heard it several times from various interviewees (Somalian & Kurdish, notably), something along the lines of "I had to leave because, in my country, there is a war going on" and afterwards more or less leaving it at that without following up the statement with any additional details or sentiments.

Then there was the article I came across the other day in L'Internazionale (italian publication which gathers articles from the world press). It was by a certain Lasantha Wickremantunge and absolutely astonishing in that it denounces the Sri Lankan authorities for their hand in his own murder, which would take place only a few days later, as well the general brutality and oppression of the regime. You can read the full article on the IFJ's webpage: And then they came for me.

And finally there is M.I.A., whom I discovered over the summer thanks to my travel companion (whose blog you can read over on the left, incidentally). An appreciation of her music (for the lyrics and the distinctiveness of the sounds rather than for its "listenability") led me to read up on her background which subsequently led me to wish I hadn't. Turns out that M.I.A. (or Mathangi "Maya" Arulpragasam - what a name), in addition to having an enviably revolutionary background, is an accomplished graphic artist, fashion designer, music producer, singer/songwriter and, as of about a week ago, mother. All by the tender age of 31.

Furthermore, in her music she accomplishes something quite amazing - producing energetic electronic music for the raving masses, while at the same time managing to engage in quiet and subtle political commentary.

"Nobody wants to be dancing to political songs. Every bit of music out there that’s making it into the mainstream is really about nothing. I wanted to see if I could write songs about something important and make it sound like nothing. And it kind of worked."


M.I.A., perhaps because of her background and personal convictions (which I tend to believe are always strongly linked) seems incurably political, kind of despite herself. It is almost as if she has to hide it, overcome it to be a successful musician, but for those who do search for politics in music, it satisfies this desire for substance and meaning, while hiding it from those who would rather not know.

But of course, there's two sides to every story. An article describing criticism of M.I.A.'s alledged political positions as interpreted from her music, contains some harsh criticism. In it M.I.A. is suggested as being "an apologist for the separatist Tamil Tiger rebels".

"Sri Lankans who have seen her videos say they interpret some parts as showing support for the Tigers, or at the very least glorifying their cause."

The debate about the Media in Sri Lanka, the bias of foreign news sources, musicians or other outlets, illustrates the level of sensitivity of Sri Lankans to what some may perceive as a biased portrayal of the various factions involved in the conflict. Even the BBC has been criticised for allegedly failing to keep to proper norms of neutrality as the following article describes.

But according to the article containing the criticism, M.I.A. isn't all that well known in Sri Lanka, and outside of the country the impact of such resonances is muted since there is so little information and discussion about the ethnic conflict.

Aside from the depths of the entrenched divisions, what is clear is that both sides are guilty of unspeakable crimes of war, and ruthless fighting, at unfathomable cost in terms of human suffering and loss of life. Under such circumstances, where human rights are abused as a matter of course, is absolute and total neutrality really the first priority when dealing with the topic?

Whatever interpretations one lends to the music of M.I.A., linked to her background, personal experiences, and opinions (to which we are all entitled), perhaps the real and first "call of conscience" ought to be to pay attention to, and talk about what is happening, rather than denounce arguable, and often well-motivated, symbolic demonstrations of partisanship.

God doesn't exist. Now start thinking.

Yesterday on the Italian news there were reports about the Athiest Bus Campaigns, in London and Spain. For the next few weeks buses in London will be displaying the following friendly advice: "There is probably no God. Now stop worrying, and enjoy your life."

Controversial, of course, although many of the big religious leaders claim to be pleased because it stimulates a debate about the metaphysical, an "active conversation about life's big questions" (Theos). Perhaps they see it as an antidote to religious apathy in the UK.

You'll notice the little avatar in the sidebar that links to the homepage of the camppaign. Maybe I'd feel offended if it was the other way around, but this is my camp so here's a cause that I can latch onto. I don't believe, and therefore I agree with spreading this idea, because like little Olivier Besancenot, I am fighting for my ideas to become more widespread in the majority.

Except, that it's not as simple as that. Especially when it comes to the uneasy combination of "evangelising" and anti-religious sentiment.

After reading some of the views of supporters of the campaign, on the boards of the campaign's facebook group, for example, it seems the primary motivating factor is a "desire to stand up & be counted", to be "organised" atheists as a counterweight to organised religion. This strikes me as a dissapointingly banal explanation. Is it really community, safety in numbers we want? But aren't these the same people who go around saying such organised religion is a sign of weakness, that convictions about God or his absence are something fundamentally personal? Isn't organised religion public ennemy number one for atheists, rather than just people who believe in God? If you've read Richard Dawkins' "The God Delusion", you'll know he sees them as part and parcel of the same loathsome and unpallatable phenomenon. I'm sure Dawkins has other motivations than adapting the principles of organised religion to the Atheist cause. I'm also sure that raising his own profile is one of them, but maybe that's just being cynical.

To tell you the truth, if I see leaflets being handed out in the street telling me to "Repent" now before it's too late, I go out of my way to pick one up, take it home and keep it.

It doesn't take long to realise that it's not just the poor and uneducated who believe. A book that examines this precise fact in more depth that I could really get my head around, is Orhan Pamuk's Snow. If I had my copy here I would quote it at you profusely but unfortunately I don't. In any case, I cannot but be humbled by the presence of so many believers in the world who are far more mentally capable, and far more aware of the mechanics of the world and of human beings than I can ever hope to be. What I find jarring about Dawkins is the way in which he flatly dismisses them all out of hand.

Also, the slogan troubles me a little. There's no god, so stop worrying? The second part doesn't seem to follow. And enjoy your life? The third part follows even less.

Howard Jacobs' criticism of the campaign is slightly harsher than I'm altogether comfortable with, but overall rather insightful:

"Some of the least worried people I know are unworried precisely because they believe in a benign creator who takes individual care of them. Ivan Karamazov on the other hand, is misery incarnate, unable to enjoy a moment of mental peace because he cannot see how, if God does not exist, anything can be deemed unlawful. SINCE THERE'S PROBABLY NO GOD it would say on the bendy bus Ivan hires to drive around St Petersburg, START WORRYING BECAUSE EVERYTHING IS PERMITTED.

Your liberal atheist would have trouble following the moral logic of that because he thinks everything should be permitted. ENJOY YOUR LIFE he says, as though the mere fact of freedom from ethical or religious restraint is a guarantee of enjoyment and enjoyment the only measure of a life well lived."

I'm not a believer myself. But I don't pretend that leaves me better equipped to lead either a good life or a happy one."

Sometimes I wonder, if I could click my fingers and have everybody stop believing right then & there, would I? The world might be simpler, we might have more consensus on some things, but neither of those are certain. It is very doubtful whether most the violence and conflict across the world is really to do with "God" or faith at all. It seems to come from something a lot more material, a lot more substantial, and intrinsically human.

What is certain is the world would be a lot more boring. It's not that I enjoy being told I'm going to burn in hell for eternity by the fire&brimstone Godsquad. I just think I might miss the wondering, the thoughts provoked by the metphysical gridlock encountered whenever dicussing the existence of God with any of my believing friends, one in particular.

I enjoy those conversations. I even like reading the "Quick, Repent!" leaflets, that's why I go looking for them. I collect tacky catholic memorabilia because I am amazed that such objects can mean such a great deal to people, can influence their behaviour, give them strength. For me the priority, is not for all this to vanish.

So I might question the aims of "Breezy universal atheism" as Jacobs disparagingly but quite aptly labels it.

I think it's a shame that atheists have hopped on the defensive. Not least because of the backlash it is likely to provoke. But also because I believe that belief or non-belief is a profoundly personal matter.

"Is it not enough to see that the garden is beautiful without having to believe there are fairies at the bottom of it as well?"

These words of Douglas Adams are the kind of rare & subtle wisdom that inspires and underlies some of my most deeply held convictions, they sum up that which gives me confidence and peace of mind in my disbelief. To see them trivialised emblazoned across a double-decker on route 149 is almost too much to bear. I'd sooner have kept them to myself.

But it is not disbelief or lack of faith alone that guides my view of the world and my place in it. That's only a particle of a whole ecosystem of convictions and credences, one with very murky waters, and which is often foggy and nebulous but definitely not inhabited by a supernatural overlord or omnipotent creator.

The campaign will soon come to Italy where buses will bear the slightly less instructional, and less reductive turn of phrase, which manages to be at once braver and less conclusive:

"La cattiva notizia è che Dio non esiste. Quella buona, è che non ne hai bisogno."

That bad news is that God doesn't exist. The good news, is that you don't need him to.