All The More Reason

As you might expect, contributors to All The More Reason apply the highest and most rigid standards of logic and rational thought to their everyday lives. Superstition and mumbo-jumbo are constantly, and actively, rejected. Jonathan Smith often spends hours at the weekend purposefully seeking out ladders to walk beneath; Justin McClintock celebrates Xmas (with an X), but only because his mother would be upset if he did not. Allow me to give you an insight into my own Enlightened mind.

I work in an office of four people which, as a consequence of its size, is extremely friendly and comradely. Not a single cup of tea is brewed without prior inquiry as to the others’ need for refreshment; a trip to the shop to buy biscuits will, as a matter of strict propriety, involve running an errand for anyone who requests it. It is therefore with some trepidation that I have decided to engage in an exercise that could upset the gentile balance of my workplace. Perhaps irrecoverably.

At this time of year, it is common for those of us with less than robust immune systems to have a more or less ever-present cold, with the attendant secretion of mucas that is sometimes euphemistically referred to as ‘the sniffles’. Sneezing is an obvious and inevitable by-product of this condition. A ritual that is no doubt familiar to you has entrenched itself in our office. It goes something like this:

Me: (sneezes)
Colleague 1: Bless you!
Me: (sneezes again)
Colleague 2: Bless you!!
Me: Thank…(sneezes again)
Colleague 3: Bless you!!!
Me: Thank you.

Now, as we all know, the origins of this archaic sneeze-rhetoric are to be found in the aged belief that when one sneezes, the heart stops, the soul leaves the body and can – in the absence of godly intervention- be snatched by an evil spirit. It’s a perfectly sound thesis, and, admittedly, I have no way of knowing whether or not my soul has ever been snatched by any spirits, evil or otherwise. Purely on the basis of what little I know of medical science, the contingency strikes me as remote. It is probably something that insurance companies would hesitate to provide cover for, not least because risk-assessors would inevitably have to delve into our personal sneeze-histories to an intolerably intrusive extent. (I find it stressful making a claim for a stolen mobile phone; I can only imagine having to furnish Endsleigh Insurance with a list of occasions on which I may have ‘sneezed alone/sneezed whilst sleeping/sneezed on public transport in an “unfriendly” [see appendices] carriage’, in order to qualify for my no-claims bonus. But I digress.)

For reasons of philosophical consistency, I have therefore decided to reject the superstitious flummery that accompanies the body’s involuntary response to irritation in the nasal passages. Henceforth, I shall accept blessings, but I shall no longer dispense them. The first post-Enlightenment sneeze was a tense affair. My colleague let rip, her heart momentarily ceasing to function and her earthly soul, and phlegm, spilling out over the work-surface. In spite of the weight of over eight hundred years of tradition, I said nothing. There was deafening silence, followed by a rather pointed…‘Bless Me’. Wisely, she was taking no chances.

Of all the small, everyday rituals that we unthinkingly undertake each day, the ‘Bless You’ is probably one of the most insignificant. I don’t seriously mean to suggest that anyone uttering the formula genuinely believes in – or even knows of – its provenance. They are (the worrying self-benediction of my colleague aside) just being polite. And I, by extension, may justifiably be accused of being rude and petty. So be it. Perhaps, several hundred years ago, I would have been accused of something far worse.

It is of interest to note here that in the 17th century, the act of sneezing was believed literally to ‘clear the mind’: this belief actually started something of a craze. Aristocrats would use snuff to artificially induce a sneeze, thereby proving both their privileged credentials and, ironically enough, their clear-headedness. As a consequence, the sneeze was often employed as a token of disapproval when something idiotic was uttered by someone from whom idiocy was to be expected. The passing of time and the application of reason has, again, eroded this once widespread habit, its residue still apparent whenever we say that something is ‘not to be sneezed at’.

On the vast spectrum of inherited irrationality, these examples probably sit nearer to ‘touching wood’ than, say, refusing to shake the hand of a menstruating woman. Irrationality is not always the preserve of the irrational, and where this incongruity rears its head, the culprit is normally unthinking tradition. Its dead weight is often so great that the revelation of an underlying superstition can prove an arduous task. But it should never be impossible. A single nudge may be insufficient, but a collective nudge by hundreds, thousands- even millions – of the clear-headed can lighten the load. It is incumbent on all of us to treat all of these supposedly serious things with the triviality they deserve. And in so doing, let us not be accused of being trivial ourselves- it’s a serious business. And not one to be sneezed at.

Michael P

Here’s an interview with Stephen Colbert. He is an American comedian who has a show which is a sendup of the news of the day. His twist is that he takes on the persona of a right–wing crank. Stephen Colbert the man, though, is anything but a right–wing crank. And so, this show has earned a lot of popularity with the Left because they’re in on the joke, and think that this caricature of right–wingers is hilarious. Here’s a quote which shows some of the difficulty that comes from dancing with two public personas (click the “print this” link to have the whole article one page).

Colbert’s character is a comedic high-wire act, and as the crowd beneath him gets larger, and louder, and more distracting, the act gets trickier still. “We share the same name. But he says things I don’t mean with a straight face. On the street, I think people know the difference. But I’m not sure, when people ask me to go someplace, which one they’ve asked.”

Well that is a devil of a pickle, isn’t it? Obviously actors have faced this dilemma before, and some refuse to play roles that they feel puts themselves in a bad light. How can we look at this without falling all over ourselves spouting contextuality, perspective, and obscure references to Kurosawa? I’m not sure it’s entirely possible.

Having said that, how different is what he’s doing from what spies have done for ages? One is required to say things with a straight face that one doesn’t believe in, and to do this again and again and again. I realise that some people are more immune to the effect this could have on their own psyche than others, but all playing this game have to hope the home side never forgets whose side they’re on.

Jonathan Smith

When Gordon Brown becomes Prime Minister later this year, I am reliably informed that the idea of ‘Britishness’ will be a central theme of his tenure. In his speech to the Fabian Society recently, Brown framed this concept as embodying ‘progressive values’, namely ‘liberty, fairness and responsibility’.

Politicians have often appealed to the idea of ‘Britishness’ as a convenient shorthand for the values that they feel, personally, to be important: from the ‘Bulldog spirit’ evoked by Winston Churchill to rally a nation at war, to the rather more soporific nostalgia of John Major recalling the bygone imagery of ‘’old maids bicycling to holy communion through the morning mist’ in order to illustrate his ill-fated ‘back to basics’ approach. The language of patriotism, if not the last refuge of a scoundrel, is certainly a convenient bolt-hole for a politician struggling to find a way to convince an audience of his central point.

Brown can be indicted on similar charges. Those values that he has described, laudable as they may be, are not peculiarly British. To talk of ‘liberty’ is misleading. The idea of ‘liberty under the law’ is most certainly a concept that has firm roots in this country; it is commonly cited as one of the great virtues of the ‘idealised’ British constitution. To confuse this with ‘liberty’ per se though is little more than Whiggish sentimentality: what is ‘liberty under the law’ if not a warrant for lawmakers to take away that liberty on a whim? ‘Rights’ are a far more potent tool with which to defend individual freedom, but the British constitution does not provide such safeguards.

New Labour often talks of rights accompanied by responsibilities. Tellingly, the latter are mentioned by Brown, but not the former. The link between the two is spurious in any event: the very essence of rights is that they are unfettered and inalienable, not redeemable like Green Shield stamps once the requisite amount of ‘responsibility’ for their exercise has been shown. Perhaps Gordon Brown means to say that Britishness is about responsibility to others. Taking a narrow view of history, i.e. one that begins in 1945 and ends in 1979, this may be so. At a stretch, one could characterise the NHS as a peculiarly British expression of solidarity, but its method of operation is rather more Soviet Union than Albion in style.

The meat in Brown’s rhetorical sandwich is ‘fairness’. Without further elucidation, this merely seems to be harking back to the hackneyed idea of British ‘fair play’. While living in France, I noticed that people would often refer, tongue in cheek, to le fair play whenever an example of British perfidy was recounted (e.g. ‘Mais Belmarsh,, ce n’est pas ‘le fair play’, huh?’). This is surely an object lesson in the dangers of both annexing and trade-marking certain virtues for one’s own nation.
The French are by no means innocent of this; after all, the words ‘liberte, egalite et fraternite’ are etched into the facade of every public building in the country. But at least they have, on paper at least, made a legal commitment to making these ideals a reality. Incidentally, the eagle-eyed amongst you will notice that Brown’s formula of ‘freedom, fairness and responsibility’ is not all that far removed from this. Could it be that his idea of what it means to be British is in fact that most un-British of things….French!?

Any commentator asked to consider aloud what it means to be British will usually be able to elicit a smug chuckle from his audience by smirkingly pointing out that the very exercise of self-examination is ‘un-British’ in itself. In doing so, they seemingly forget that in order to be able to characterise something as ‘un-British’ they must themselves be referring to some bogus national standard of self-restraint. Although it may be neither British nor un-British, the exercise is pointless unless the values elicited have a normative, rather than a purely descriptive function. This means having the political courage to codify a set of progressive aspirations in constitutional and legally enforceable form.

Other than providing a demagogic shortcut between the heart and the head, wrapping one’s values in the Union Jack performs more or less the same function as the Emperor’s new clothes. Rhetorically ‘nationalizing’ progressive ideals gives credence to the erroneous notion that there are no such things as universal values; just culturally-specific quirks of history. Let us aspire to these ideals, let us celebrate them, but let us also ensure that their enjoyment is, in fact, without borders.

Michael P

I wonder if this will pick up any steam, or if like Clearstream, will be too complicated for most people to follow.

This is an interview with Edward Fitzgerald QC. Fitzgerald has acted as defence counsel to some of the most notorious and heinous criminals in Britain and the Commonwealth, including Abu Hamza.

For him:

‘the legal process is an attempt to civilise our emotions of revenge.’

Well said.

In his valedictory speech to the Labour Party Conference, Tony Blair was effusive in his praise for George Howarth, Janet Anderson and Mike Hall. Why? Because, well…

‘Good ministers, but I asked them to make way.’

Because he had sacked them. The aforementioned ex-ministers must have welcomed the name-check, even if George Howarth might have been left pondering exactly which aspect of his Northern Ireland brief was performed so well as to merit his dismissal. The ministerial reshuffle is a curious sport.

The Prime Minister described their common virtue:

‘They never forgot their principles when in office; and they never discovered them when they left office.’

In plain, and less rhetorically appealing terms, this is to say that they all adhered to the principle of ministerial responsibility. As a member of the government, you must take collective responsibility for government action. If you have a disagreement, you leave your ministerial post, as well as your ministerial car and your ministerial salary (although if dismissed you receive a year’s salary- a safety-net for the ill effects of Prime Ministerial caprice). A minister is politically and morally responsible for the collective decisions of government until he drops out of the collective.

Without wishing to take anything away from Messrs Howarth, Hall and Anderson’s admirable, and constitutionally proper, knack of marching in tight formation towards their own destruction, I rather think that their Field Marshall’s comments were aimed at another target altogether.

With the notable exception of the late Robin Cook, very few Labour Cabinet Ministers have resigned, since 1997, as a result of a fundamental disagreement with government policy. Claire Short made the rather elementary, but surprisingly common, error of resigning in opposition to a policy agreed by a Cabinet of which she was a member. The barb hooked from Blair’s semi-colon was doubtless intended to spike Short after her defection to a whipless no-man’s land.

Peter Hain, deputy leadership ‘hopeful’, is the latest minister to claim that ‘ I never done believed in what I was voting for after all’. Like the superannuated light entertainer, who- did he mention?- ‘does a lot of work for charity’ (did he mention that?), Hain never misses an opportunity to crowbar into the conversation his undoubtedly noble opposition to apartheid in the 1970s. But I wouldn’t want you to think him a monomaniac. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, deputy-leadership-hopeful-Peter-Hain has a view on just about anything you want. So what will it be, comrades? Iraq, you say…?

In an interview with the New Statesman magazine, Hain has criticised American, and by extension, British foreign policy in the Middle East as ‘failed’, whilst offering an unequivocal mea culpa:

“No Labour minister, as I was at the time, can shirk responsibility for it or deny responsibility for it.”.

Unfortunately, he then goes on to do just that; criticising almost every aspect of the policy in Iraq that he had a hand in implementing, except that of the original decision to go to war.

In the absence of a leadership contest, the poll for the deputy leadership post is likely to be the only meaningful opportunity for members of the Labour Party to engage in frank and open debate with key figures about the future of their party. The contenders for this position should be willing to say something interesting and fresh, rather than resorting to the stale rhetoric of the lowest common denominator. With the exception of John Cruddas, all those contesting the post are current members of the Cabinet. We should ensure that their rhetoric matches their record.

To believe that the party has strayed off course and ought to move in a different direction is no crime, but we should always ask ourselves why those who now make a virtue of their strongly held convictions have, up to this point, lacked the courage to express them. In politics, to think is to act.

In the case of Peter Hain, it strikes me as rather uncourageous to employ collective responsibility as a cloak for one’s true views on ‘taking an eye off the ball of Middle East peace’ or an ‘incoherent foreign policy’, particularly when open dissent at the time could have actually made a difference. To crow, after the event, about a ‘failed’ policy you failed to prevent is nothing short of bizarre. But to do so cynically, in furtherance of a bid for political office, is grubby. Forget ‘finding’ your principles after leaving office; anyone who can abandon their principles so readily when in search for office, is probably one to steer clear of.

Michael P

There’s an article by Robert D. Kaplan in Atlantic Monthly which describes the potential fallout of the inevitable collapse of North Korea. There are passages that are so surreal that when read in isolation one risks mild migraines due to the weight of contemplation. For example:

On the Korean peninsula, the Cold War has never ended. On the somber, seaweed-toned border dividing the two Koreas, amid the cries of egrets and Manchurian cranes, I observed South Korean soldiers standing frozen in tae kwon do ready positions, their fists clenched and forearms tightened, staring into the faces of their North Korean counterparts. Each side picks its tallest, most intimidating soldiers for the task (they are still short by American standards).

Quite a lot of impotence in this gesture, I’d say. Here’s another one in a similar vain.

The two sides once held a meeting in Panmunjom that went on for eleven hours. Because there was no formal agreement about when to take a bathroom break, neither side budged. The meeting became known as the “Battle of the Bladders.”

I’m very thankful not to have assisted at that meeting. It’s also worth noting how when dealing with the mad, one goes a little mad too. I’m sure South Korea holds very little bladder busting meetings on their own, but I can’t be so sure about the North. Clearly, the main purpose of Kaplan’s article is not to illustrate the insanity of the regime, but to outline what some of the consequences of its insanity will be. This includes the possible mass migration out of North Korea to both China and South Korea. And that, as opposed to full out war, is one of the better scenarios to hope for.

Naturally, the United States will be expected to do something in this situation. Whatever it does do, it will inevitably be condemned by a certain portion of its population and by the world (and naturally it will be thanked by others). I’m surprised that more noise hasn’t been made by those against the war in Iraq as to what they wish the United States do in this situation. I’ve seen very few editorials on the subject from the “left”, and certainly very little action in terms of bloggers. The only exception to this is the fatuous argument that Bush didn’t invade N. Korea but did invade Iraq. Wouldn’t now be a better time to clamour for something instead of waiting until the regime collapses, when it might be too late for their voices to be heard?

At least for me, the only things that one could humanely argue for in this situation ring remarkably similar to what was argued for in the situation in Iraq. I honestly have no idea what people who argued against the war in Iraq will say when the regime in N. Korea collapses. I’m not holding my whizz waiting to find out.

Jonathan Smith