Answer time
I’ve just got home from recording bbc tv’s political debate show Question Time and if you saw it and found it anti-climactic, I know how you feel.
Nigel Farage in the flesh, gin blossomed flesh that it is, inspires sympathy more than fear, an end of the pier, end of the road, end of days politician, who like many people who drink too much has a certain sloppy sadness. Camilla Cavendish who I was sat next to, seemed kindly and the two politicians from opposing parties, that flanked Dimbleby melted into an indistinguishable potage of cautious wonk words before I could properly learn which was blue and which was red. For my part I sat politely on my hands, keen to avoid hollering obscenities after a week of hypocrisy accusations and half-arsed, front page controversy.
Only the audience inspire passion or connection. Humanity. The usual preposterous jumble that you see in any of our towns, even if groomed and prepped by Auntie, they comparatively throb with authenticity opposite us, across the shark-eyed bank of cumbersome cameras.
The panelists have been together in “the green room” chatting, like before any TV show, and that’s what QT is, a TV show, a timid and tepid debate where the topics and dynamism of the discussion are as wooden and flat as the table we gamely sit around.
There is a practice question prior to the record, so the cameras can position and mics can be checked and the audience can practice harrumphing. In my dressing room at the modern Kentish theatre, before my sticky descent, I can hear them being prepped “ask questions, quarrel, applaud, keep those hands up”.
The practice question is a soft ball rhubarb toss about clumping kids or something and even though I’m determined to concentrate like a grown up, my mind drifts back to the Canterbury Food Bank I visited before arriving, partly to learn about it, as a researcher told me there might be question on them and first hand knowledge would make me look good, and partly because, y’know, I actually care.
In a warehouse in a retail park Christians and sixth formers assemble bags of what would rightly be considered “staples” in a kinder world. Tins of food and packets of biscuits and it’s good that we’re near to the “White Cliffs of Dover” because it feels like there’s a war on and the livid coloured packaging goes sepia in my mind as Dame Vera scores the melancholy scene.
The Christians are as Christians are, kind and optimistic. The donations come from ordinary local folk “We get more from the poorer people” says Martin, a quick deputy in a cuddly jumper. “More from Asda shoppers than Waitrose.” As I contemplate cancelling my Ocado (or whatever the fuck it’s called) order Chrissy, the lady who runs the scheme says that this year people who received packages previously have now donated themselves. Previous recipients often volunteer an all. Here older folk and the students diligently box off the nosh and I determine to give them and their heartening endeavor a shout out on the show and my writhing, nervous gut begins to settle.
Chrissy explains how the Caterbury Food Bank has brought people together, not just those it feeds but those who volunteer. “It seemed like a good way to worship Christ” she says. Martin, who I am starting to gently fall in love with, observes that supermarkets profit from the enterprise as Food Bank campaigns encourage their customers to spend more there. “Do you think there’s an obligation for the state to feed people?” I ask “or room for a bit more Jesus kicking the money lenders out of the temple type stuff?”
They smile.
Many who use their facility are people that work full time and still fall short, others have suffered under “benefit sanctions”. “They’re very quick to cut off people’s benefits these days” says Martin.
“People think that Canterbury is affluent, but all around us are pockets of the hidden hungry”. The hidden hungry. “I’m gonna use that” I tell him as I scarper. He makes a very British joke about charging me as I get in the car and I tell him I nicked some jammy dodgers, and we laugh so that’s alright.
I think about the hidden hungry as I settle into my QT chair and get “mic’d up”. Farage entered to a simultaneous cheer and jeer, they cancel each other out, like bose headphones and leave an eerie silence. David Dimbleby says something about it being panto season and someone in the audience says “oh no it isn’t” and I love him for it, even though I’m pretty sure he was one of the UKip cheerers.
And a pantomime it is, well not so entertaining, no flouncing dames or doleful Buttons or rousing songs, just semi-staged tittle-tattle and bickering. The only worthwhile sentiments, be they raging or insightful come from the audience, across the camera bank. The man who brings up politicians pay rises, the man who demands I stand for parliament (so that he could not vote for me judging from his antipathy), the mad, lovely blue hair woman who swears at everyone, mostly though the woman who says “Why are we talking about immigrants? It’s a side issue, this crisis was caused by financial negligence and the subsequent bail-out”. This piece of rhetoric more valuable than anything I could’ve said, including my pound-shop Enoch Powell gag. More potent than the one thing I regret not saying because time and format did not permit it. That the people have the wisdom, not politicians, that the old paradigm is broken and will not be repaired. That the future is collectivised power. Parliamentary politics is dead, they, it’s denizens, wandering from aye to neigh from Tory to UKip know it’s dead and we know it’s dead. Farage is worse than stagnant, he is a tribute act, he is a nostalgic spasm for a Britain that never was; an infinite cricket green with no one from the colonies to raise the game, grammar schools on every corner and shamed women breastfeeding under giant parasols. The Britain of the future will be born of alliances between ordinary, self-governing people, organised locally, communicating globally. Built on principles that are found in traditions like Christianity; community, altruism, kindness, love.
In the “practice question” Farage says it’s okay to hit children “it’s good for them to be afraid” he said. There is a lot of fear about in our country at the moment and he is certainly benefitting from it. But the Britain I love is unafraid and brave. We have a laugh together, we take care of one another, we love an underdog and we unite to confront bullies. We voluntarily feed the poor when the government won’t do it. These ideas and actions that I saw in the food bank and across the camera bank are where the real power lies and this new power is the answer, no question about it.
Can anyone name an atheist who has carried out a suicide bombing or beheaded someone in Saudi? Anyone?The journalist David Aaronovitch, an atheist, whose writing I usually respect, wrote:
Sure atheists don't actually behead anyone, but you have to admit they can sometimes be a bit strident.Now this is a line that often gets trotted out by Richard Dawkins and his chums. 'Atheists are much less harmful that religious people. We might shout a bit from time to time, be a bit strident, but we don't harm anyone'. Except of course that isn't quite true. If you happen to be a Christian living in the self declared atheist state of North Korea you aren't just treated to a few harsh words, you are more than likely to end up in labour camp or worse. The intellectual western European atheist might argue that it is unfair to link his or her views with North Korea and suggest that those pesky North Koreans aren't really atheists anyway. It's the old Jedi mind trick 'These aren't the atheists you are looking for'. Fair enough but isn't this the same argument used by many religious people who argue that the worst manifestations of those claiming to be of their faith aren't really true believers. Consider, for example, the many Muslims who would denounce and reject the expression of Islam manifested by the IS in Syria and Iraq. Or consider the many Christians who would disown the nonsense regurgitated by the Westboro Baptist Church.
What struck me about the recent discussions on surrogacy in the media, both mainstream and social, was the lack of ethical considerations in so much of the argument. For several days I heard and read interviews with those involved in surrogacy including: surrogates, clients, facilitators, doctors and lawyers. The practical, financial, legal and physiological aspects of surrogacy were explored in some depth. What I didn't hear was anything more than a cursory acknowledgement of the ethical questions raised by these matters. In the case of baby Gammy the issues were sharpened by the apparent rejection of the child by his potential parents because of his condition, though the full facts of that case are still to be clarified.In the course of a search by the Club in early 2014 of 10,000 private text messages sent to and from another member of staff during Mr Mackay’s employment at Cardiff, in relation to other matters, it emerged that Malky had, it seems, sent a couple of one line texts that were, with the benefit of hindsight, very regrettable and disrespectful of other cultures. These were two text messages sent in private at a time Malky felt under great pressure and when he was letting off steam to a friend during some friendly text message banter. That said, Malky believes he could and should have conducted himself better on these two isolated occasions. The precise details need to remain private for the time being until any FA process is complete.You can read the full statement here and it is no surprise that today the LMA has issued a follow up statement to clarify its initial statement following justifiable criticism for referring to the messages as 'friendly text message banter'. I find myself asking how anyone could have used the word banter in regard to these messages and I suspect the answer is that within football there is still a culture that regards such messages as just that, banter. However, these messages are not playful and teasing remarks between two friends, they are offensive remarks made about other people and have no place in the game.
And so during that lunchtime broadcast I stood above a pile of belongings, pointing to items strewn across the ground. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a pink drinking flask. It looked familiar. My six-year-old daughter, Kitty, has one just like it. I bent down and, what my Twitter critics cannot hear - because of the sound quality of internet replays of the broadcast - is that I had lost it. It is a cardinal sin of broadcasting, in my book anyway, to start blubbing on-air. I fought for some self-control, not thinking all that clearly as I did so.There are of course situations where the journalists cannot gain access. At the moment reports are coming out of Iraq that Christians in Mosul are being driven out of their homes or murdered for their faith. The story is gaining some coverage but is largely being drowned out by the situation in Gaza and the Ukraine. What is noticeable is the lack of on the ground reporting from Mosul, presumably because it is too dangerous for journalists to go anywhere near the place, and so there is little visual imagery to convey the atrocity on our televisions. Perhaps if we could see something of the tragedy that is unfolding in Mosul more attention might be given to it by news agencies, the public and our politicians, who seem to be almost silent when it comes to anything to do with Christian persecution in the Middle East.
The Daily Mail seems to be having a bit of a thing about people named George at the moment. It has got itself in a pickle with George Clooney by running a completely false story about his future mother-in-law. When George challenged The Mail they offered an extremely rare apology. This apology turned out to be another piece of journalism which George has rejected as disingenuous if not dishonest. George Clooney deserves great credit for being prepared to take on a newspaper that trades in this type of journalism, particularly on-line, on a daily basis. |
| Neville Neville |
I thought I'd check out the content. No page 3 for a change so at least something positive but it does raise the question why? If they are worried about causing offence then why do they have it in their normal editions? If you want to campaign against page 3 then check out the No More Page 3 website. Some of the usual suspects are in there including the professional rent a gobs represented by Clarkson, Hopkins, Moore and a predictably obnoxious piece courtesy of Rod Liddle. I was very disappointed to discover James Corden and Alex James contributing.The church is the place where hope can be found, but this is only possible if the church is willing to accept that life is not always rosy. The stigma around mental health illness – of any kind, must be eradicated. The bible is full of people who screw up, who get miserable, angry, who hurt and who weep. Even Jesus, in the garden of Gethsemane found life a little too much to bear and pleaded with God.
In a BBC opinion poll out today, 46% of respondents agreed that Rowan Williams has helped the Church of England remain relevant to modern Britain. 27% disagreed, and 27% didn’t know. But what is all this business about being relevant? And how important is it? After all, the achingly trendy schoolteacher, desperately pretending to be one of the kids, is rightly a figure of fun. Is that what we mean by relevant? If so, then I suspect that the church is better off without it. Gimmicky relevance and trendy vicars are not going to make much difference to the broader arc of human history.Here's the broadcast (unfortunately the audio is slightly corrupted).
Indeed, by far the more important question is not whether what the church says is relevant but whether what it says is true. Is it true that God exists? Is it true that this God loves all human beings and seeks for them an existence that is fully and wonderfully alive? Is it true that Jesus died to free us from bondage to destructive self-absorption? You may think the answer to these questions is “no” – fair enough. But if the answer is “yes” - or even “perhaps” - then I think all this stuff about relevance looks after itself. Which is another way of saying that if the church wants to remain relevant, what it has to do is speak out of its deepest convictions. It has to re-tell its own story with passion and honesty. That will continue to be the job of the next Archbishop of Canterbury - who will be chosen by a meeting that starts later today.
It is an impossible job, of course. For there will be times when the church is saying something completely different to contemporary culture; when it will be deliberately out of step with the prevailing world-view. Christians ought to expect this to happen a lot - not least because we dream of a world that is transformed by God’s love, and, quite obviously, and in so many ways, the world in which we live is not a world thus transformed. The theologian Stanley Hauerwas says that Christians ought to be “resident aliens” – aliens because what we say seems so weird and out of touch with modern reality that it feels like it comes from another world.
And that’s is fine with me because I’m not all that enamoured with a great deal of what passes for modern reality. This is a world where millions die of starvation and where people continue to butcher each other for countless stupid reasons, including of course, stupid reasons created by religion itself. This is the reality the church must continually address and challenge. But let’s not call it relevance. We are not politicians wanting your votes. We are not shops wanting your business. The message of the church has been around for two thousand years, and I dare say is going to be around for another two thousand more. So we don’t really have to worry too much about focus groups or opinion polls. If what we say is true then it’s always going to be relevant. Indeed, it’s surely a matter of life and death.
