In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk

  • Counting

    This poem seems to follow on a bit from the previous one uploaded here. But whereas I wrote “I Insist my Ribs…” over three years ago, “Counting” has been written in the last few days.

    I have a vague idea of what was in my mind as I wrote this latest poem. And looking at it now, I’m increasingly seeing things which were not in my mind at all, but which inserted themselves anyway.

    I suppose it is a bit of a “what am I ?” poem. Or “what is my value and where shall I find it ?” And I think the main impetus for it comes from the context in which we are all now living, at least here in the UK. An incessant and utterly reductive quantifying of information at all levels, but used by the market and by those presently in political power to manipulate us without principle and without care, purely for the sake of their own immediate (and hollow) advantage.

    Of course, the poem rests to an extent on a humble pun, or double meaning. The verb “to count.” It means to tot up, to add up ; but equally to matter, to have significance.

    But the poem also rests on a much more fundamental dichotomy, or duality. I am not just a list of measurable quantities, it says, although those do exist and I do belong in them. Much more than that, I am a carrier, a source and messenger, of qualities. The world is of quality, not just quantity. It is in the the world of qualities where I can best find myself and am best found. In the how of things, not just the what.

    Which brings us to other dichotomies, such as the two brain hemispheres, the left and the right, the left in denial of the crucial primacy of the right, even of the need for the right to exist. Our nation’s essentially fraudulent and fundamentally unworthy Prime Minister is called Mr Johnson (I call him Mr Toad). Mr Toad’s very dangerous senior advisor is a human exemplar of the left-side brain hemisphere bursting its banks and running amok, and of the abusive felonies which result.

    Cummings fights for, and glories in, a world run according to the left hand side of the brain. In his case, this seems to go with a virulent hatred of, and contempt for, anything or anyone living according to different and saner principles. Having “taken the measure” of the creation he sees before him, he’ll seek to manipulate it so as to control it, reduce it, “whack it,” subsume it. Chaos and division result.

    He “couldn’t care a flying fuck,” a PR agent told Adam Forrest of “The Independent,” on Cummings’ reaction to the uproar that followed his Durham/Rose Garden excursions. He has a “very thick skin,” apparently. It’s almost as if not caring – or rather, “not caring a flying fuck” – is a new desirable. Being a miniature dinosaur in service to AI really “gets it done.” It’s the ultimate triumph. A perfection of control.

    Towards the end, the new poem quotes the greeting “I see you,” a traditional Zulu greeting. This link is to some thoughts on the subject, written by a South African, Bridget Edwards.

    Here’s a paragraph from her piece : “According to Peter de Jager, the Zulu greeting ‘Sawubona’ means ‘I see you’ and the response, ‘Ngikhona’ means ‘I am here’. As always when translating from one language to another, crucial subtleties are lost. Inherent in the Zulu greeting and our grateful response, is the sense that until you saw me, I didn’t exist. By recognizing me, you brought me into existence. A Zulu folk saying clarifies this, ‘Umuntu ngumuntu nagabantu’, meaning, ‘A person is a person because of other people’.”

    Bridget Edwards, also mentions another traditional greeting, this originally from the Sanskrit, and still used in India by Hindi speakers : “Namaste.”  The greeting is accompanied by a bow, with palms pressed together as if in prayer. I bow to the god in you, the divine spark I see in you and seek and serve in me, knowing it is there, connecting us.

    Now back again to the African continent. An encounter between bush men of the Kalahari, recorded by Laurens van der Post. The one begins with an ancient greeting : “Good day.  I saw you from afar and I am dying of hunger.”

    The other’s right hand is raised, palm open, fingers up.

    “Good day!” says this other person. “I have been dead, but now that you have come, I live again.”

    In a very real sense, these formalities express a recognition of the human individual’s place in community which has been shared across the world, in all the major faiths and traditions.

    Here, for instance,  are words written by the late David Jenkins, as Bishop of Durham, (“the Red Bishop”) making reference to St Paul’s letter to the Romans” : “We are members one of another.”

    And here’s Martin Buber, the great Jewish thinker and writer : ““As I become I, I say Thou…All real living is meeting.”

    What clear-seeing there has been in human history, despite its horrors. Where has the clear-seeing gone ?

    “Hi !” we say to each other. And our Dom, (I call him the deathwatch doom beetle), senior advisor to a UK Prime Minister, couldn’t care a flying fuck.

    The poem also mentions a panther. It is of course a reference to Rilke’s great poem. The panther encaged in a tiny space, pacing without end.

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  • I Insist my Ribs Contain Stars

    I like the idea of mayhem in the crematorium…

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  • Might Labour be the Force to Renew UK Politics ?

    Our democratic politics isn’t working and, in my view, its dysfunction is one of the major causes of our present national crisis.

    In so many ways, our political structures and democratic processes – not just here in the UK, but manifestly in other countries too – are under attack and also in question. We have to renew them, not just for democracy the better to defend itself and survive, but for our own sakes, that it may work properly for us and help us flourish. Mr Johnson and his dreadful gang of dishonourables have no incentive to do this work. They profit from and abuse our present unfitness. It is our unfitness that has inflicted them on us.

    I see the UK’s Brexit saga as more an illustration and manipulation of our general malaise, disorientation and disenchantment, than a coherent choice or political decision in itself. It is on a par with America’s surrender to Trump and with lurchings to the far Right elsewhere, a mere symptom of ill-health, of things gone wrong. And one of those things “gone wrong” is our democratic system itself, left behind by rapid change and failing to connect and to deliver.

    For years, those systems have simply and on their own account lagged behind contemporary conditions, in many aspects far behind, merely adding to the social breakdown and fragmentation. Furthermore, we now face global emergencies that demand effective action and international co-operation on an unprecedented scale. For all our sakes, and above all for our children’s sakes, our systems need both to be capable of effective action in co-operation with others, and to facilitate those things. They are presently in no fit state to do so.  

    I am not qualified to cover all the ground here and anyway should not try. The ground ranges far and wide. Some of the issues are already very old chestnuts, but still left unresolved, still hanging provokingly on the tree, dried out and wizened. I’ll simply name the obvious ones here. The Labour Party under its new leadership is presently engaged in a policy review and surely needs to consider carefully each one of these chestnuts, as part of the exercise. Where is Keir Starmer’s Labour Party going to stand, in relation to them ?

    • Proportional Representation
    • Reform of the House of Lords
    • The role of the Political Party, of Party management, of “advisors” to the minister, the Parties’ powers and rights over their MP’s, the purpose and proper function of the Whips and also the lobbyists.
    • Citizen Forums and public participation generally
    • Regional Devolution
    • A Constitution for the UK, yes or no ?

    The above is just a list of political body parts obviously in question and ripe, or over-ripe, for resolution and decision, each part (and question) vital and demanding of conclusive address. And below, I want to add a few more, just as vital.

    But beforehand, I think we need to ask a few questions about the business of democracy as a whole, in terms of general principles and our understanding of those. A viable political force needs to take and communicate a clear position on these issues, no less than on the “body parts” listed above and below.

    So what would the Labour Party’s stated position be on the meaning of democracy/party/representation/ accountability/sovereignty ? Would it be able to make clear statements in response to the following propositions :

    1/ democracy is something more complex than delivering slogans and propaganda and then counting votes via plebiscite and referendum ;

    2/ seeking popularity at any cost, is not the same thing as being truly “democratic” in response to expressed need or opinion ;

    3/ an MP is more than delegate or mere mouthpiece for his/her constituents or party members on the one side, or Party whips on the other ;

    4/ a political Party is a present and maybe temporary alliance for the achievement of agreed goals, rather than some fixed and backward looking comfort zone for lost souls and nostalgic fundamentalists ;

    5/ Parliament is more than just a counting house, or quaint theatre filled with rival choruses yelling hear hear at each other. It is where the People in authority resides, and where accountable decisions are made, cleanly arrived at, in good faith…

    For, lurking behind many of the present-day arguments and shouting-matches, there seem to be all sorts of conflicting understandings of what democracy actually is or should be, in present conditions. The EU referendum of 2016 was a dog’s dinner, a mockery of democratic due process. To conclude afterwards that “The People have spoken” (a statement made in a hushed tone as if speaking of a deity, or oracle) was just another step along a way of utter madness and abuse and disgrace. On these matters of national and international import, we need decisions made that are properly informed, inclusively arrived at and above all wise, for everyone’s sake ; we need ways and means of arriving at those decisions that are fit for purpose, respectful of all parts of the community, and connected to reality.

    Might the Labour Party prepare some clear position statements on these topics, thereby making competent and responsible governance more possible and more likely than it is now ? The Party’s present consultation exercise is a precious opportunity to make our whole governance better. If  the exercise is just about  how to unite the Labour Party itself, or merely what policies the Party should follow, that opportunity might well be squandered, to everyone’s enormous and immeasurable cost, including that of the Labour party. I shall resort to imagery to emphasise my point here : the Labour Party restricting itself merely to self-renewal, would be like restoring a single tower in an old castle fallen into ruin. We have to build something new and for our present times, from the foundations up and overall. 

    I have left until last a few bees that buzz especially loudly in my own bonnet :

    Above all, I am concerned with the issue of truth-telling in politics. “The People” need to be able to trust the leaders they vote into power. So the lines of communication between the leaders and the led need simply to work better, they need to be kept clean and open. If they are not, then the tools and currencies of democracy turn to dust in all our hands.

    And indeed, right here in front of us and on a daily basis, they don’t work, they are not clean and clear. Present-day democratic politics is largely given over and surrendered to Hard Sell and endless Spin, dodgy sales techniques, working on “The People” rather than working with and for them, exploitative, de-humanising, deceitful, mendacious. These things are said easily and often, but nothing changes.

    Truth-telling. Truth-serving. Being open and unguarded. Not speaking as a technique for misleading, evading, withholding, lying. Speaking for the sake of serving the truth, rather than serving the self, or – for that matter – the Party, as an extension of the self.

    You can find the Seven Nolan Principles of Public life here on the gov.uk website. The sixth is plain and simple : “Holders of public office should be truthful.” It is simply astonishing that such a statement can  be made public on the government’s own website – and simultaneously be so completely ignored by the politicians who form that government, right up to the top of the tree and perhaps especially at the top of the tree.

    Thus, our own Prime Minister has been sacked twice for lying, making him justifiably unemployable anywhere. And yet, here he is, the nation’s leader.

    And one of the first things he did as Prime Minister was to lie to the nation’s constitutional Head of State. And time and time again, he scratches his head and tells us more porkies. Maybe he thinks we like it. To judge by the way we voted a short while ago, he is surely right.

    Very occasionally, you hear the Nolan Principles being quoted by politicians, usually obscured under the title of the Ministerial Code. And, even more occasionally, some member of the cabinet is actually stripped of his/her position, by the party’s leader, with lying cited as the reason. The latest was Damian Green, I believe. So the politicians do seem to know that it’s wrong to lie ; but only when they themselves are at the receiving end of the dishonesty. The electorate are not so lucky.

    As far as the electorate are concerned, the words of the Nolan principles are empty and toothless and can be, and are, ignored all the time and with impunity.

    Thus, earlier this summer, still only a few weeks ago, a large proportion of Johnson’s cabinet were trotted out to lie to the electorate on behalf of Dominic Cummings, who found the Rose Garden in Downing Street a conducive setting for further brazen lies of his own.

    The incompetent and irresponsible cabal at the head of the UK’s present government are especially uninhibited with regard to the Lie. But the use of language merely to sell and obscure, defraud and deceive, rather than as a medium for truth and connection, runs through all our politics. In a sense, the Party system itself depends by its nature on making truth serve Party rather than the other way round.

    I believe that it should be made a criminal offence for any elected holder of public office to seek deliberately to deny, pervert or withhold the truth, for their own or their Party’s interests. I am not alone in this belief, of course. “Democracy in Politics”, Plaid Cymru and a campaign called “Stop Lying in Politics” have all proposed the same, and there may be others.

    If the Labour Party were to add its authority to these voices by making it party policy, I believe the nation would respond positively and would certainly benefit. In fact, the move would be transformative. The Law itself has given a lead on this issue, by defining perjury and making it a punishable offence. So this is do-able as well as necessary. Lying in politics is a poison and needs to become a dangerous venture for any perpetrator. Until it does, our politics and our country are diseased and debased.

    For what it’s worth, I have set out the argument about lying in more detail here on this blog.

    In the same piece, I have also proposed that no one should be able to enter politics who has not first worked for a significant length of time in another and very different paid occupation (though perhaps not journalism !) and each new applicant for the MP’s role must be able to prove a spotless record in that previous work, above all with regard to ethical conduct. For example, an applicant whose employment record includes being sacked for lying would be banned from any form of public responsibility, at any level, ever.

     

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  • Kenwood in May

    Kenwood is an impressive mansion on the northern edge of Hampstead Heath, London. It and its grounds are managed by English Heritage and open to the public. It is a deservedly popular place to visit and on the day in question, I drove my dear friend the late Mary Young there. She lived nearby.

    Mary was a psychotherapist and a (belatedly recognised) historian.

    Maybe it’s Covid-19 that’s bringing these words back, these moments of vividness and expression now in the past. The virus has claimed and taken off so many people, literally without ceremony. But it can’t take the moments away.

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  • Facing West over a Small Field

    Here is a link to a poem about the poet D.J. Enright and his French wife, the artist Madeleine Enright. (See one of her pictures, above). They belonged in worlds quite foreign to me, but in the last few months of their lives, I chanced to be their next-door neighbour.

    I had moved into a bungalow in south west London, in the grounds of a church primary school, facing west over a small field. The bungalow was a refreshingly basic affair, built for the school’s caretaker, but the present post-holder lived round the corner. So the Enrights and I found ourselves sharing a garden fence. They were kindly, quintessentially civilised, “fine-tuned” and courteous, and I quickly felt deep affection for them. I had two kittens at the time, sisters, half Burmese. I think it was the kittens which started things off, as pets so often do. The Enrights were lovers of cats, especially Madeleine, perhaps.  

    But then something really extraordinary cropped up. The project I run, now called “Poems for…the wall,” was at an early but exciting stage. Denis MacShane was Minister for Europe and the EU was still then moving in a sane and forward direction, though perhaps precipitously. Ten further countries were about to join and Macshane was interested in the idea of helping that enlargement on its way by posting up poems from each of the countries involved and displaying them widely. The poet Fiona Sampson was helping me make the selection. Up came the Polish suggestion – “Station Lights” by Piotr Sommer, publisher Bloodaxe, translator into English D.J. Enright.

    D.J. Enright ?  I needed permissions, of course. Permissions in this case were remarkably easy to come by ! Sommer delivered his by hand. I was out at the time, so missed him.

    Although I didn’t know it then, Enright was already far gone with cancer. It advanced swiftly and the poem catches up with him just before he finally retired into a hospice, where he died very soon afterwards. Madeleine did not survive him for long.

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  • The Blue Field

    This poem was written over ten years ago, when flying was still a safe assumption and planes were common overhead. This year we’ve been been hearing less of the planes, but – thankfully – the swifts are still with us.

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  • Anthem for a Lying Toad

    The UK’s Brexit government have been showing us their true mettle in recent weeks. Following their disastrous response to the Covid-19 virus, they are itching to move on to enterprises more to their liking, but equally vulnerable to their incompetence. It has been said that “The Sleep of Reason Brings Forth Monsters” (it’s the title of an etching by Goya). But it is that arbitrary and binary division which is the problem, opposing “Reason” to all else and seeing the latter as “Monsters,” to be fought, denied or discounted. Things like empathy, feeling, truth. Often, it is those who worship “Reason” most ardently, associating it with “Control,” who are our greatest threat. Behind a mask of Reason, Control, Order, their own real chaos is what they bring to the world. Chaos is all they can ever bring and is what they will leave behind.

     

    And the Toad’s a liar

    a “world beating” liar.

    On our country’s bowed shoulders

    he stands tall.

     

    And let’s be fair,

    it’s not every nation

    that adopts from choice

    a known liar and wastrel

    for leader.

    It’s not every nation that opts

    freely for its own disgrace.

     

    He’s the One, we said.

    He’ll “get it done”,

    he said he would.

    We liked the sound of that man’s voice,

    that air of certainty

    and his hair all tousled

    with studious care

    and that manicured smirk.

    He makes his lies

    sound like Etonian gold-dust.

    They’ve much more sex appeal

    than reality.

    He’ll work it with slogan

    he’ll work it with lie

    just as he worked it with us.

     

    My grandson woke me

    the other afternoon and asked me,

    is it true, grandad,

    that if I lie from this day forward,

    I too could be prime minister ?

     

    Ah yes, I said. But you be sure, my boy,

    to practice night and day  

    up and down the lie scales.

    Persevere and when you’ve grown up

    and got a job and then the sack

    for lying, you’ll know you’re on your way.

    But still there’s more to do.

     

    Before you qualify

    for Toad’s high office,

    he insists you match

    his two previous dismissals for lying.

    And even then

    it’s not quite done.

    Our Toad went on

    to lie to his queen,

    high treason

    being yet another feat

    in which our Toad takes pride.

     

    Arise, Sir Toad,

    Her Majesty intoned.

    As Lord of Number Ten,

    our near neighbour in Westminster,

    you’ve taken first prize

    for your treachery and lies

    and led our nation

    to world class disaster

    and disgrace.

     

    And as you so rightly say,

    my Lord of the Lie,

    our Lying Toad of Number Ten,

    a lie today

    keeps reality at bay –

    until tomorrow.

     

    Rogan Wolf June 14th 2020

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  • Steps

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