Wednesday, 21 November 2012
Introducing a Collaborator...
I'd like to welcome my good friend Daniel to this blog, as a casual contributor. It is my hope that he will continue to write good pieces just like this, 'Where Did All the Passion Go?' while I am studying hard for assignments.
Tuesday, 20 November 2012
Where Did All the Passion Go?
Words like ‘Freedom’ and ‘Privacy’ can ignite passions and rally people to a cause; they represent concepts that we intuitively identify as right and good (although they are often rather nebulous and ill-defined ideals).
During the early 1800s, in the United Kingdom, ‘Democracy’ was one such word. We were a country deeply divided along class and geographic fault lines about what constituted a ‘democratic’ society. On one side the Chartists demanded sweeping reforms, whilst the establishment held on to centuries' old traditions of class and privilege. The chartist movement was grass-roots political activism and upheaval of an intensity seldom seen in this land before or since. It was through the bloody and painful events of this period that the way was paved for many of the practices and principals of our modern system of democracy. Among the ‘radical’ Chartist demands: a vote for every man over the age of 21 and a secret ballot. In places Chartism erupted into riots and violence; in one location a Chartist militia even rose up and fought a pitched battle against Queen’s troops.
Fast forward 173 years, and again history is made; for the first time ever a British polling station reported a zero voter turnout.
How ironic that the scene of this second piece of history should occur just down the road from that Chartist uprising; both within the modern city of Newport in South Wales.
On the 4th of November 1839, Chartist leader John Frost led a march on the Westgate Hotel in Newport to free imprisoned Chartists. The hotel was (unbeknown to the Chartists) defended by a detachment of around 35 soldiers of the 45th (Nottinghamshire) Regiment of Foot, reinforced by local ‘special constables’. The Chartists vastly outnumbered the defenders and were armed, but with mostly home made weapons. The troops had the advantage in firepower, tactics and a fortified position. None the less the Chartists, holding true to their convictions, joined in a battle; the scars of which are borne by the building to this day. The hopelessly lopsided battle lasted only half an hour. The Chartists were routed and around 20 of their number lay dead or dying, a further 50 were wounded. Of the defenders only 4 were wounded (1 soldier and 3 civilians).
For many years the Newport town square has carried the name of John Frost, but soon it is to become ‘the Friars Walk development’ (ie a shopping centre), the Chartist mural (pictured above) to be removed. It seems then that the legacy of John Frost and the Chartists is to be forgotten. I predict no riot; apathy rules in the City of Newport over our past political passions, as well as our future direction.
History has shown that a garrison of redcoats armed with muskets isn’t up to the task of standing between the people of Newport and their right to free elections... so what kept the Newportonians from the polls in 2012, and how do we bring them back?
Newport West MP, the Rt. Hon. Paul Flynn (who has an excellent record of voting in Parliament) said that a
Consider the poppy appeal; most of us wore a poppy and observed a silence on Armistice day, out of respect for those who have died for our freedoms. Rarely is link to a specific right and freedom as direct and clear as with those who laid down their lives in the Newport uprising, but even so fewer than 3 in 20 of us took that more meaningful step of going to the polls.
Why do so many go to the trouble and expense of getting a poppy but not to vote? There are many reasons, of course; however I would speculate that poppies being easily available is a factor. We now live in a society of convenience; 24 hour shops, on-demand entertainment and online services. Expectations of how and, crucially, when we communicate our views, have shifted massively over the last two decades, but the mechanics of our elections (ie gathering paper ballots at fixed locations over a 15 hour window) have remained the same for many years. Perhaps this is the alarm call for a change?
During the early 1800s, in the United Kingdom, ‘Democracy’ was one such word. We were a country deeply divided along class and geographic fault lines about what constituted a ‘democratic’ society. On one side the Chartists demanded sweeping reforms, whilst the establishment held on to centuries' old traditions of class and privilege. The chartist movement was grass-roots political activism and upheaval of an intensity seldom seen in this land before or since. It was through the bloody and painful events of this period that the way was paved for many of the practices and principals of our modern system of democracy. Among the ‘radical’ Chartist demands: a vote for every man over the age of 21 and a secret ballot. In places Chartism erupted into riots and violence; in one location a Chartist militia even rose up and fought a pitched battle against Queen’s troops.
Fast forward 173 years, and again history is made; for the first time ever a British polling station reported a zero voter turnout.
How ironic that the scene of this second piece of history should occur just down the road from that Chartist uprising; both within the modern city of Newport in South Wales.
On the 4th of November 1839, Chartist leader John Frost led a march on the Westgate Hotel in Newport to free imprisoned Chartists. The hotel was (unbeknown to the Chartists) defended by a detachment of around 35 soldiers of the 45th (Nottinghamshire) Regiment of Foot, reinforced by local ‘special constables’. The Chartists vastly outnumbered the defenders and were armed, but with mostly home made weapons. The troops had the advantage in firepower, tactics and a fortified position. None the less the Chartists, holding true to their convictions, joined in a battle; the scars of which are borne by the building to this day. The hopelessly lopsided battle lasted only half an hour. The Chartists were routed and around 20 of their number lay dead or dying, a further 50 were wounded. Of the defenders only 4 were wounded (1 soldier and 3 civilians).
For many years the Newport town square has carried the name of John Frost, but soon it is to become ‘the Friars Walk development’ (ie a shopping centre), the Chartist mural (pictured above) to be removed. It seems then that the legacy of John Frost and the Chartists is to be forgotten. I predict no riot; apathy rules in the City of Newport over our past political passions, as well as our future direction.
History has shown that a garrison of redcoats armed with muskets isn’t up to the task of standing between the people of Newport and their right to free elections... so what kept the Newportonians from the polls in 2012, and how do we bring them back?
Newport West MP, the Rt. Hon. Paul Flynn (who has an excellent record of voting in Parliament) said that a
lack of trust in politics and lack of confidence in politicians generally [was a factor]. After the endless scandals (MPs expenses, cash for honours and so on) a bid to reignite the passions of old is probably futile, so perhaps a different approach is called for?
Consider the poppy appeal; most of us wore a poppy and observed a silence on Armistice day, out of respect for those who have died for our freedoms. Rarely is link to a specific right and freedom as direct and clear as with those who laid down their lives in the Newport uprising, but even so fewer than 3 in 20 of us took that more meaningful step of going to the polls.
Why do so many go to the trouble and expense of getting a poppy but not to vote? There are many reasons, of course; however I would speculate that poppies being easily available is a factor. We now live in a society of convenience; 24 hour shops, on-demand entertainment and online services. Expectations of how and, crucially, when we communicate our views, have shifted massively over the last two decades, but the mechanics of our elections (ie gathering paper ballots at fixed locations over a 15 hour window) have remained the same for many years. Perhaps this is the alarm call for a change?
Tuesday, 6 November 2012
Gambling and Personal Responsibility: My Response to Panorama.
This is more of an opinion piece inspired by Panorama; I'm not sure if I have enough knowledge to be able to judge the situation in a purely objective light. I do however feel that there is something to be said about this episode:
Panorama: Gambling Nation.
The premise seems to be that those companies that market gambling are responsible for problem gamblers in the UK. Gambling can be an addiction, although it doesn't have to be, and I understand that addictions can be dangerous, but there's a worrying trend throughout the programme that blames anybody (but those people participating in the gambling) for the problem.
It strikes me that is quite telling of the attitude of society to addictions and habits of all kinds. I would certainly never argue that funding research into such problems is a bad idea. I would however suggest to those people who tell Panorama (with a certain amount of pathos) that 'nobody did anything about their problem' are missing the point somewhat.
I believe that bringing to light the addictive qualities of the gaming machines provided by gambling companies, as well as the risks that online (and thus perpetually-available) gambling poses to people, is a valuable and worthwhile cause. Raising awareness of these things will put people on their guard, and allow them to recognise and seek help from friends, family or professionals for their addiction. What concerns me is that, if the program's point were followed to an inevitable conclusion, the only real solution would be a total surveillance society. If people are complaining that the government, gambling companies, medical professionals, regulating bodies and in-store staff should have acted upon the hypothetical knowledge that the gamblers had a problem, and taken the initiative to help them, the logical conclusion is that they feel the ought to be constantly monitored in their daily lives. Now I may have missed the news bulletin on this, but since when did personal responsibility mean nothing in these situations?
Most people have gambled. When I was a child, I would play the 2pence sliding shelves in the vain hope of managing to get the right angle and velocity to knock the coins into my cup. Did I succeed? Rarely. Even as a child, the conclusions that I came to were twofold:
Every time I see yet another of these programmes setting up the argument for a surveillance society I get a touch more worried. It is a fundamental fault to look at the world as a place where one ought to be protected by other people to such an extent; I don't fancy giving up my privacy and live in a doubtful utopia in order to protect other people from their weaknesses. It is damaging to people's self esteem, and that of our society, to represent such things as someone else's fault.
There is always a point when a person has the choice to walk away from a thing that is harmful to them. Sometimes the decision is forced upon people (as in the cases of forced addiction to drugs by some dealers) but gamblers are almost never in this position. The gambling companies do not lock their doors and refuse to allow them to leave until they're addicted - the choice to continue is with the gambler.
Some people will fail the challenge, and become addicted, but this does not mean it is other people's fault. They deserve help, because that is what they need. However, at some point they had the choice to stop or continue. This is the fundamental point; personal responsibility is the basis of self-respect. How can they truly recover if no one will say it was their fault to begin with?
Panorama: Gambling Nation.
The premise seems to be that those companies that market gambling are responsible for problem gamblers in the UK. Gambling can be an addiction, although it doesn't have to be, and I understand that addictions can be dangerous, but there's a worrying trend throughout the programme that blames anybody (but those people participating in the gambling) for the problem.
It strikes me that is quite telling of the attitude of society to addictions and habits of all kinds. I would certainly never argue that funding research into such problems is a bad idea. I would however suggest to those people who tell Panorama (with a certain amount of pathos) that 'nobody did anything about their problem' are missing the point somewhat.
I believe that bringing to light the addictive qualities of the gaming machines provided by gambling companies, as well as the risks that online (and thus perpetually-available) gambling poses to people, is a valuable and worthwhile cause. Raising awareness of these things will put people on their guard, and allow them to recognise and seek help from friends, family or professionals for their addiction. What concerns me is that, if the program's point were followed to an inevitable conclusion, the only real solution would be a total surveillance society. If people are complaining that the government, gambling companies, medical professionals, regulating bodies and in-store staff should have acted upon the hypothetical knowledge that the gamblers had a problem, and taken the initiative to help them, the logical conclusion is that they feel the ought to be constantly monitored in their daily lives. Now I may have missed the news bulletin on this, but since when did personal responsibility mean nothing in these situations?
Most people have gambled. When I was a child, I would play the 2pence sliding shelves in the vain hope of managing to get the right angle and velocity to knock the coins into my cup. Did I succeed? Rarely. Even as a child, the conclusions that I came to were twofold:
- I would never win as much money back as I inserted into the machine.
- I have a tendency to want to continue to play, in the hope of winning (or, in other words, a susceptibility to addiction).
Every time I see yet another of these programmes setting up the argument for a surveillance society I get a touch more worried. It is a fundamental fault to look at the world as a place where one ought to be protected by other people to such an extent; I don't fancy giving up my privacy and live in a doubtful utopia in order to protect other people from their weaknesses. It is damaging to people's self esteem, and that of our society, to represent such things as someone else's fault.
There is always a point when a person has the choice to walk away from a thing that is harmful to them. Sometimes the decision is forced upon people (as in the cases of forced addiction to drugs by some dealers) but gamblers are almost never in this position. The gambling companies do not lock their doors and refuse to allow them to leave until they're addicted - the choice to continue is with the gambler.
Some people will fail the challenge, and become addicted, but this does not mean it is other people's fault. They deserve help, because that is what they need. However, at some point they had the choice to stop or continue. This is the fundamental point; personal responsibility is the basis of self-respect. How can they truly recover if no one will say it was their fault to begin with?
Thursday, 1 November 2012
To World Enough and Time.
Tonight, I've been thinking about time. It strikes me that, today, one's idea of forever has shrunk into a foreseeable future. In the past, civilisations have built their cities, written their words, carved out their art, on stone: solid, immovable. Stone is at once eternal, in its sense as a substance present in the world, and malleable. There are carvings and drawings and cities still visible now that have been present on this world for thousands of years. Admittedly, thirty-thousand turns around the sun is little, in the grand scheme of life, the universe and everything; but it seems an eternity compared to the longevity of things created now.
Time is a circuitous creature. I seem to remember it said, by someone, that history is perhaps retrospectively hinged on momentous occasions; such things as wars, coups, deaths and barbarians are the stuff for history books; but that history is really just made up of people's small actions. The more I see of the past during my studies, the more familiar it seems. I have heard it said in the media that we are living in a time of great change, of uncertainty, of the threat of war, of crises of faith, of injustice. When has that ever not been the case?
The present however seems, to me at least, more ephemeral in nature than in the past. Since writing began, people have written what they thought most important on paper, vellum, clay, papyrus, unconsciously bequeathing it to us in the future: an insight into their lives. In contrast, people nowadays write what they believe most important in computers. This is oddly meta-textual; even as I write this I realise that that is precisely what I am doing. When I have something to say, I commit it to this box, where it is filed and stored in a medium that is firmly situated in the now.
What will this entry be in thirty thousand years? A few corrupted disk segments, a little too much innovation, a new connective medium (at once more productive and totally different to the Internet) and this could be lost. Even now, I can remember floppy disks and tapes: things for which I would be hard pressed to find a person now with the means to read the information contained within them. Without the correct materials they are as blank, closed boxes. They're unintelligible.
How long ago were these things still in common use? Today, our work and writings, thoughts and lives, are immortalised to the tune of a generation or so. Today, there still live people of the era where LP's were the one main music medium; in fifty years this will not be so. There are children alive today, in this country, who have never giggled over the innuendo of the 'three and a half inch floppy'. Will we, in thirty thousand years, be the next great silent civilisation? Will there be those who, in years from now, batter at the long abandoned servers of the blogspot, and find it, like the original Command and Conquer servers of the gaming world, a ghost town?
Shakespeare wrote, with seeming confidence, in Sonnet 18: "But thy eternal summer shall not fade [...] When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st / So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, / So long lives this, and this gives life to thee." As far as anyone of the now can surmise from that ending, he saw his work, the written word, as eternal. Setting aside the vanity in such a conviction, he has been, so far, correct. I wonder if we can say the same, with the same confidence?
(Credit for the title to Andrew Marvell; for the ideas I credit the germs to Audrey Niffenegger and the history to Andrew Marr's History of the World series)
Time is a circuitous creature. I seem to remember it said, by someone, that history is perhaps retrospectively hinged on momentous occasions; such things as wars, coups, deaths and barbarians are the stuff for history books; but that history is really just made up of people's small actions. The more I see of the past during my studies, the more familiar it seems. I have heard it said in the media that we are living in a time of great change, of uncertainty, of the threat of war, of crises of faith, of injustice. When has that ever not been the case?
The present however seems, to me at least, more ephemeral in nature than in the past. Since writing began, people have written what they thought most important on paper, vellum, clay, papyrus, unconsciously bequeathing it to us in the future: an insight into their lives. In contrast, people nowadays write what they believe most important in computers. This is oddly meta-textual; even as I write this I realise that that is precisely what I am doing. When I have something to say, I commit it to this box, where it is filed and stored in a medium that is firmly situated in the now.
What will this entry be in thirty thousand years? A few corrupted disk segments, a little too much innovation, a new connective medium (at once more productive and totally different to the Internet) and this could be lost. Even now, I can remember floppy disks and tapes: things for which I would be hard pressed to find a person now with the means to read the information contained within them. Without the correct materials they are as blank, closed boxes. They're unintelligible.
How long ago were these things still in common use? Today, our work and writings, thoughts and lives, are immortalised to the tune of a generation or so. Today, there still live people of the era where LP's were the one main music medium; in fifty years this will not be so. There are children alive today, in this country, who have never giggled over the innuendo of the 'three and a half inch floppy'. Will we, in thirty thousand years, be the next great silent civilisation? Will there be those who, in years from now, batter at the long abandoned servers of the blogspot, and find it, like the original Command and Conquer servers of the gaming world, a ghost town?
Shakespeare wrote, with seeming confidence, in Sonnet 18: "But thy eternal summer shall not fade [...] When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st / So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, / So long lives this, and this gives life to thee." As far as anyone of the now can surmise from that ending, he saw his work, the written word, as eternal. Setting aside the vanity in such a conviction, he has been, so far, correct. I wonder if we can say the same, with the same confidence?
(Credit for the title to Andrew Marvell; for the ideas I credit the germs to Audrey Niffenegger and the history to Andrew Marr's History of the World series)
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