Monday, February 18, 2008

Chuch of England

Dear Stan,

After all my adverse comments on the Church of England, here is a very illuminating piece seeing the religious divide and the very survival of the CoE from an Anglican perspective. It is so long that I do not know if you wish to post it complete, though it contains more thoughts on the "Sharia Law" debate which has world-wide implications. This idea has already been tested in Ontario, just over the border from you.

Edmund Campion, whom he mentions, was a very local "English Martyr" who ran an underground Catholic press at Stonor House, about 12 miles north-east of my house. Stonor House has been the home of the same Catholic family for over 800 years. I visited it a few years ago. Part of the James Bond film "The Living Daylights" was shot there. If you check out the DVD, you see it when Timothy Dalton drives up to the "country HQ" of MI6. I asked one of the staff about the film crew visit and the reaction was "Never Again!!!" Although all British stately homes are desperate for cash, Stonor felt they could survive without the hassle of another blockbuster taking over the premises. But then a recent Stonor heir was chairman of Barclays Bank, so he happily had the loot to keep Stonor in good repair.


==================================================================

Is the Church of England finished? Should it be?
Peter Hitchens

I love the Church of England. By that I do not mean its bishops, its arid modern prayers and poetry-free, unmemorable modern bibles, nor its stripped and carpeted modernised churches, its compulsory handshakes, perky modern hymns or happy-clappy conventicles where everyone is saved. If I'm saved it was such a narrow squeak that I think it wiser not to go on about it, as the man said.

What I love is the wondrous Elizabethan settlement which refused to make windows into men's souls and allowed Catholics and Protestants to forget their differences in a rather beautiful ambiguity.

That settlement is expressed in several ways. It lingers in buildings, in books, in music, a sort of ghostly presence just within reach at certain times of day and in a few unravaged, unwrecked parts of this country. It also continues to survive as a body of thought, song and literature, quite immune from the peculiar bureaucratic organisation which currently uses the Church's name.

It is still often to be found in churches and cathedrals which - though sadly stripped of much loveliness - managed to retain and guard far more of their pre-Reformation mystery and art than in any other Protestant country.

It is to be found in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, itself quarried from Coverdale's Bible and from the later Authorised Version, written in the Golden Age of the English language by people who understood poetry, cadence, music and memory - and who were concerned to keep what they could of a much older heritage.

I don't expect to carry Roman Catholics with me here, as they have long ago constructed a myth about the Church of England which is, like all good myths, rooted in truth but yet not entirely true. The torture and judicial murder of Roman Catholic martyrs such as Edmund Campion remain as a gory stain on Elizabeth and on the Anglican tradition. But Campion (as Evelyn Waugh's fine biography makes clear) sought his martyrdom and refused all opportunities to evade it.

Thomas More and John Fisher were martyred by Henry VIII, not really over doctrine but over the King's desire to have his first marriage annulled, something which might easily have been done by the Roman Catholic Church under slightly different political circumstances. More and Fisher, now recognised as men of courage and integrity, perjured and judicially murdered, appear on the most recent Anglican Calendar of Saints.
And that is in spite of the fact that More himself was no mean persecutor of Protestants, sending several followers of Luther to die in the flames (for Henry VIII killed anyone who got in his way, Catholic or Protestant). He was not, perhaps, the near-perfect man portrayed in that matchless film 'A Man for All Seasons', but his courage - like that of his opponents - is amazing to us.

I may be wrong, but I do not think that Thomas Cranmer is to be found on any such Roman Catholic calendar. Like many Anglicans, I've attended Roman Catholic churches and cathedrals for Mass (in which I don't take Communion because I think that I'm not entitled to do so, my beliefs being insufficiently clear on the subject, and also because I suspect that by doing so I might upset Roman Catholics) and for Vespers. But I have seldom found a Roman Catholic who knew much about Anglicanism or its services.
I also tend to think that the Roman Catholic concentration upon the English Martyrs ( the murals in the Brompton Oratory and St Aloysius in Oxford are particularly striking examples of this) are a bit of a propagandist 'you did it too' response to the rather larger persecution of Protestants by Mary.

And most of those who feature in Foxe's Book of Martyrs, the roll call of Mary's Protestant victims, were obscure and powerless people, not garlanded academics like Campion or great men like More and Fisher, but even so caught up in a great battle and compelled by circumstances to be heroic when they never meant to be.

The Ayatollah of Canterbury & Sharia Law

Dear Stan,

The great title is stolen from Peter Hitchens' "Mail on Sunday" article on the Archbishop of Canterbury (See below). You would not believe the uproar that his speech on Sharia Law has created in this country. Roger Bolton commented that he could not recall any religious leader being submitted to such vociferous criticism. And Roger has been covering religious news in Britain for over 40 years. Even the secularists have been using the Archbishop's speech as a rod to beat him by suggesting that he was looking to reserve legal privileges for the Anglican Church in line with the Muslims.

The main "Party Line" taken by nearly all commentators has been that there must be one secular law applying to everyone in the country - any religious tribunal's decisions would be merely ancillary and subordinate to the secular judiciary's authority. The British commentariat's "Party Line" has been so unanimous that it made Stalin's Politburo look like an anarchist commune in comparison.

Of course, this Party Line, like just about all Party Lines, is utter bunkum. Whatever "single secular law" applies in theory, the application at street level is anything but consistent or impartial. It has long been notorious that Muslim parents can flout the law on school attendance with impunity, especially when it comes to keeping adolescent girls at home. And as Peter Hitchens points out, the British Government is effectively breaking the law on bigamy by allowing social security payments to multiple Muslim wives.

But this is yet another consequence of the "humane" social security system set up in the 1940s. As I described in an earlier post, the idealists who set it up did not intend to undermine marriage and subsidize illegitimacy and adultery. As George Orwell commented in "The Road to Wigan Pier", the man who drinks a bottle of whiskey a day does not actually intend to get cirrhosis of the liver........

I should point out that Peter Hitchens is an observant Anglican, one of the few writing anywhere in the British media. We Papists have more visible secular media mouths that the Anglicans.

===================================================================

09 February 2008

At least the Ayatollah of Canterbury is honest, Mr Brown
This is Peter Hitchens' Mail on Sunday column

The poor old Ayatollah of Canterbury doesn't actually deserve all the slime now being tipped over his modernised mitre. Just some of it. Of course it is absurd for the chief of the Christian Church in this country to cringe publicly to Islam. But at least Archbishop Williams is open about his unwillingness to defend the faith – as is his colleague, the wretched Bishop of Oxford, who recently announced that he was perfectly happy for loudspeakers to blare the Muslim call to prayer across that city.

Even on their own liberal terms, this pair are clueless about sharia and its scorn for women. It was exiled Iranian Muslim women who defeated a similar proposal in Canada. They had travelled thousands of miles to escape sharia law and didn't want it in Toronto, thanks very much. Compare that with the Government, which poses stern-faced as the foe of "terror" and noisily jails figures of fun such as Abu Hamza while greasily pretending that there's no connection between Islam and terrorism.

Gordon Brown's Cabinet has also quietly agreed that Muslim men with more than one wife can now claim benefits for these extra spouses – while bigamy remains a criminal offence for everyone else, punishable by up to seven years in prison.
A
nd what about the discreet little Whitehall celebrations of the Muslim festival of Eid, attended by highly placed civil servants?

Or the incessant multi-faith propaganda in supposedly Christian State schools, where children known to me have been pestered to draw pictures of mosques but are given virtually no instruction in the faith and scripture of our own established Church?

Why is it that in Britain, alone of all countries in the world, the most exalted, educated and privileged have all lost the will to defend their own home? Most of us liked it the way it was before they began to "modernise" it.

I know of nowhere else where those most richly rewarded by a free society are so anxious to trash the place that gave them birth and liberty.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Forgiveness

It is not often that you are in the same room as a terrorist killer and the daughter of one of his victims. It is even rarer that you hear them describing each other as friends. Yet this happened in Room 109 of the Palmer Building at Reading University. The daughter was Jo Tufnell, nee Berry, whose father Sir Antony Berry was murdered in an IRA bombing in 1984. The IRA member who placed the bomb was Patrick McGee.

The bomb which killed Jo's father and four other people was a small terrorist outrage by world standards. Far more people are killed by suicide bombers on a regular basis in Iraq. But this bombing in October 1984 was not just any ordinary IRA coup. It was one of the most ambitious terrorist attacks ever before 9/11. It was intended to wipe out the entire British Government. When the Conservative Party, headed by Margaret Thatcher, met in the south coast resort of Brighton for their annual conference, their living accommodation was thoroughly examined in advance by anti-terrorist specialists. The "Troubles" in Northern Ireland had been in top gear for many years already, with numerous explosions on the UK mainland as well. But McGee, the IRA's long time Chief Explosives Officer, had planted a well concealed time bomb in a bathroom wall in the imposing Grand Hotel, overlooking Brighton's seafront, four weeks before the conference. So when the bomb went off Mrs Thatcher and several other senior Government ministers had an incredibly narrow escape.

I was on a long computer course at Brighton College at that time. Normally I stayed at a small hotel on the west side of the town centre. As one of the top seaside resorts in Britain, Brighton usually has a huge choice of affordable accommodation. But that week there was not a room to be had in Brighton for anyone except the Party delegates and the army of media hangers-on. So I ended up in a very good B + B in the smaller seaside resort of Worthing, 10 miles to the west. I drove past the Grand Hotel each morning and evening on my trips to and from the College on the east side of town.

On Friday morning, I packed the car and was about to leave the B + B when I could hear the unbelievable reports coming from the kitchen radio. Driving up to Brighton, I listened to the local BBC Radio Sussex presenter struggling to juggle ten sensational reports simultaneously. Nothing this big had happened in Brighton since they were fortifying the coast against German invasion in 1940. Yet this 1984 foe was an enemy which no amount of conventional weaponry could defeat. The police were stopping cars coming out of town - several weeks too late.

Brighton was in utter chaos, as the Grand Hotel bombing meant that the very busy coast road was closed and all traffic diverted onto inland roads. After an hour struggling through traffic jams, I finally made it to College. The local paper's lunchtime edition, compiled, to judge from the bylines, by every single member of staff, had a full-front page picture of the fine facade of the Grand with a huge crack from top to bottom. They later won a press award for that front page, proving it is an ill wind that blows no good.

The Grand was rebuilt and reopened, security precautions at major political events became ever more paranoid and everyone moved on with their lives, including the bereaved and the survivors, some permanently disabled. The IRA crowed, vis-a-vis Mrs Thatcher's lucky escape: "We have to be lucky only once. You have to be lucky all the time". And now, more than 23 years later, I found myself in the same room as the perpetrator, a thoughtful softly spoken man in late middle age using a walking stick. He could have been a lecturer in English literature at Reading. He's fully qualified for the job, with a PhD in "Troubles Literature" earned during his many years in prison after being convicted of the Brighton bombing.

The small audience, perhaps 100 people, surprised me. I had turned up at this relatively small lecture theatre without advance booking, expecting to be turned away because people were standing on the ceiling. But that bombing is so long ago for most people. Getting on for half the population is too young to remember Brighton and nearly all the students at Reading were born after 1984. But many of them still showed up, appreciating the relevance to present day conflicts.

Obviously for those closely affected it is always October 1984. Jo Berry struggled with her grief while raising her family and continues to grieve to this day. In 1999, in a day out with her children, she had suddenly been consumed by rage and fury at her father's death, all the emotions of 1984 flooding back. She almost crashed the car driving home that evening. She had been hugely helped by a reconcilation group in Ireland. In return she has worked to help others. Jo works with numerous reconciliation groups around the world in places such as Rwanda and Palestine. She is working with a man in Rwanda who lost 35 members of his family, including his mother, in the ethnic massacres of the 1990s. He is about to meet one of the men who murdered his family.

12th February, the day she spoke at Reading University, was her father's birthday. She had visited his grave to lay flowers and spend time with him. She wondered whether to come to speak that evening. I am sure everyone was glad that she had made the sacrifice to come and share her deepest feelings thoughts with us. It was an extraordinarily difficult and tense evening as everyone could sense her emotions and the effort it had taken both her and Patrick to come to their present position as friends. Patrick said that he would never make the first move towards meeting any of the victims of his bombings as this might only exacerbate the suffering of people who did not feel able to face him. It was Jo who had made the move towards meeting him in 2000.

They are still progressing in their relationship; there could never be anything glib or easy about "forgiveness" in such circumstances. They are still widely separated in some attitudes, as she is a staunch pacifist and he accepts the necessity for armed struggle in some instances. The question and answer session was at least as long as their introductory talks. The audience was willing to ask some very searching questions, such as whether the rest of Jo's family shared her approach to forgiving the killer. Her answer was guarded; as far as I understood it, they did not, but respected her integrity. She said she was anxious not to hurt her family more than they had already been injured. One questioner asked Patrick how he came to the point where he was able to take human life and then move back from that point. Patrick said that much of it was down to the paramilitary training, just as regular armies have to desensitise soldiers to killing. A young American student at Reading asked Jo about 9/11 and the "War on Terror". Jo described the work of "Not in our name", the US group of 9/11 victims opposed to the war in Afghanistan and Iraq.

The meeting was organised and sponsored by the small but invaluable Reading University Chaplaincy team as part of a "Forgiveness Fortnight" during Lent. One of the questioners asked Jo about her religious motivation for forgiveness. She was again cagey about discussing her position, saying she was a spiritual person, but believed in human beings and their potential to change. When a woman referred to someone showing "Christian forgiveness", Jo preferred to describe it as human forgiveness.

It is always awkward questioning the bereaved and the pacifist; when the person under interrogation is both, punches tend to be pulled. The logical consequence of unconditional pacifism is that any thug can take over government unopposed. As George Orwell pointed out in WW2 Britain, there was an overlap between the British fascists and the Peace Pledge Union. Of course - both opposed resistance to Hitler and Mussolini...... And people who are dogmatically opposed to violence tend to be far more intolerant than those who believe it is occasionally necessary. So oddly, I find myself much closer to Patrick than Jo. But there is no questioning her dogged devotion and the good fruits it has produced for at least some individuals.

Saturday, February 9, 2008

God is Dead? or...

The graffitto on the London wall declared: "God is dead - Nietzsche".

A different hand below added: "Nietzsche is dead - God".

Most of the movies I have seen in the last twenty years take the Nietzsche line, usually implicitly rather than by direct quotation. Michael Medved, in "Hollywood versus America", noted how unrealistic are most Hollywood movies in omitting the importance of religion to most Americans of all classes. Even when movie characters face desperate crises, such as terminal illness, recourse to religious support is the exception rather than the rule.

Hollywood is not the only offender. Any number of highly praised European films support the total separation of Church and Studio, as one wag described it. In " L'Enfant" ("The Child"), a superbly acted but deeply depressing Belgian feature, you would never guess that Belgium is allegedly 80% Catholic. The young unmarried couple have just produced a child in the post-industrial city of Liege in the east of Belgium. Admittedly, to someone used to the underclass areas of Reading, even downtown Liege looks reasonably attractive, which somewhat weakened this viewer's sympathy with the underclass Belgian pair. Plus, in the best Hollywood tradition, the desperate unmarried mother is so damn hot - in contrast to the chain-smoking sluttish young things wheeling their babies around Reading. But Liege might as well be in Stalin's Russia for all the visibility of the Church. When it comes to naming the baby, the mother reminds the infantile "father" that they have to go to the town hall to have him legally "recognised". There is not even a hint of having her cherished child baptised. The "father" denies that he is the biological parent and even sells his child at one point. The total practical atheism of all the characters' world views makes the experience even more gruelling than the raw material suggests. The same directors' equally harsh and equally praised "Rosetta", also set in Liege, had not a religious bone in its body.

I have just seen "Control" at Reading Film Theatre and it has to be the bleakest and grimmest view of a post-Christian Britain that you are ever likely to see. It makes Michael Caine's "Get Carter", also set in a hard-bitten Northern city, look like a bundle of laughs. It reminded me of Sartre's dictum that "Hell is other people". Well, probably people like this. It follows the short, sad and wasted life of Ian Curtis, lead singer of the punk group Joy Division. The very name of this group is about as crude, offensive and transgressive as you could imagine; it refers to the brothel inmates inside the SS concentration camps. I knew nothing and cared less about Joy Division and Ian Curtis and their music before I saw the film.

I still have no desire to hear any of their much-praised music ever again, but I was both enthralled and repelled. As when watching any film about the recent past, I had to keep reminding myself: "I was actually alive at that time". I had just seen the wonderful "No country for old men" and it is difficult to decide which was more foreign, alien and bizarre - 1980 Texas or 1978 Manchester, with its rough crowds of disaffected youths which thronged the bare halls where Joy Division performed. The fact that "Control" is shot in black and white further increases its remoteness from present-day Britain, less than 30 years later, as well as underlining the spiritual and material drabness of Curtis' world.

Ian Curtis was younger than my younger sister - until he committed suicide on the same day as my older niece was born, 18th May, 1980. He worked in the Civil Service at the same time that I did, in a separate, but closely related department - the Department of Employment (I was in the Department of Social Security). When Joy Division drive south for their first gig in London, they cram into a Ford Cortina (Mark 3) estate car; my first car was the sedan version. Ian Curtis may wear a jacket with the word "HATE" in huge letters on the back as he goes to work in the dreary government office (even less appealing than my DSS premises in the centre of Reading). But much of the time he does not come across as a hate-filled misfit; he seems a polite, considerate and gently spoken misfit. Unlike the hirsute rock stars in regular groups, he looks a typically well groomed junior civil servant, much like me around that same age.

The North-West part of England has long been its most Christian area. There are any number of thriving churches around Manchester, but they are invisible in "Control". The old quip about "Hatch, match and despatch" (Baptism, wedding and funeral) being the only time British people enter a church certainly applied here. There is a very fleeting glimpse of Curtis' wedding. A longer shot of his funeral focuses on the belching chimney of the crematorium. This was surely intended to evoke the Nazi concentration camp chimneys - the only way that most of the inmates left.

Even creepier was the casting of the excellent Romanian/German actress Alexandra Lara as Curtis' Belgian lover. Her unforgettable previous role was as Hitler's secretary in "Downfall". In that film, the only time God is mentioned is by Magda Goebbels, wife of the repulsive Nazi propaganda minister. When she writes to her oldest son explaining that she is going to murder her six youngest children, she declares that God will forgive her. You might have thought that, with the vengeful Russians closing in and one of the biggest battles of WW2 raging above their heads, even the inmates of Hitler's bunker might have said a prayer or two. But prayer is not shown in an otherwise superb movie. Contrary to the old saying, it looked as if there were nothing but atheists in this most desperate of foxholes. Like Ian Curtis, many of them kill themselves rather than face the post-Nazi world; unlike Ian Curtis, some also murder their families.

In the equally good U-boat movie, "The Boat", made a generation earlier, the tough submarine crew are shown to have religious feelings. As the boat plunges uncontrollably into the depths after being attacked by a British aircraft, a young sailor prays desperately in what he thinks will be his last few seconds before the hull is crushed like a matchbox. When the boat lands miraculously on a shallow spot, the captain declares "A merciful God sent a shovelful of sand to hold us up". In the 23 years between"The Boat" (1981) and "Downfall" (2004), you can sense a religious revolution as well as the political transformation of Germany.

All commentators on the punk phenomenon refer to the impact of 1970s industrial decline and unemployment fuelling the alienation and rage of the musicians and their followers. No one seems to refer to the parallel decline of religious life in Britain, ten years after the disintegration of much mainstream Christian teaching in the 1960s. What intelligent youngster could take any Church seriously when the Churches' own leaders were denying traditional Christian doctrines or abandoning beautiful centuries-old liturgies? Political commitment and action seemed equally unappealing, given the careerism of mainstream British party politicians and the flakiness and doctrinaire fanaticism of the fringe political movements. So what was left to fill the God-shaped hole except a brutish nihilism?

Yet nihilism is self-exhausting and the harshness of the atheist world view appeals to a minority of the human race. Most people seek some warm and comfort in a cold universe and world-wide it is very obvious that God is not dead. But in the thirty years since the birth of punk, the mainstream British Christian churches have continued their long-term decline. The end result of the "Decade of Evangelisation" by the Anglican Church in the1990s was that their church attendance slid below the psychological million mark. The Catholic Church has fared no better, with every vital statistic on baptisms, weddings and attendance heading south. The one contrast is the evangelical churches, with their firm Biblical teaching being rewarded by a steady increase in membership.

Their external enemies have been assisted by countless errors and misdemeanors by Church leaders and clergy. The latest gaff by the Archbishop of Canterbury resulted in the poor man receiving massive public vilification. It made the ferocious media treatment of Derek Conway, the corrupt MP I mentioned in an earlier post, look restrained and merciful in comparison. Most people tend to cynically assume that politicians are as bent as a straight banana, but still think that Christian leaders ought to defend Christian teaching and society. So when Archbishop Williams delivered a long and nuanced speech about Sharia law becoming part of British life, he was handled as gently as an antelope in the jaws of a hungry lion. Whatever carefully considered argument he wished to advance was lost in the gleeful parade of soundbites extracted from his speech, which could be twisted to suggest he was in favour of amputating thieves' hands and stoning adulterers. With leaders like him, you don't need Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hitchens.

In an earlier post, I mentioned the impact of market forces on the practical teaching of Catholic and other clergy. The deficiencies of the mainstream churches and the basic human need for spiritual solace have created market niches for any number of new churches to flourish. Perhaps appropriately, some of the newcomers find themselves in commercial premises rather than conventional religious buildings. Reading Family church has its base in a shop/office on London Street.The New Testament Church of God (heavily West Indian) holds its worship in a former cinema in Caversham, a northern suburb. Another West Indian church makes its home among the warehouses and workshops of the Portman Road industrial estate.

Much of this activity is visible only if you walk - a further incentive to get out of the car. Walking along Wokingham Road on the east side of town, I was amazed to find that a large but unremarkable house had suddenly become a worship centre for a thriving independent Christian group. A pair of steel gates on Redlands Road in the University area looks like the entrance to a warehouse, but the Brethren community have a large building in there. The "ethnic minority" churches within a larger church are also near invisible. The separate Hungarian, Ukrainian and Sri Lanka masses are held in regular Catholic churches. The Greek Orthodox community shares the Anglican St Bartholomews Church.

Is Reading exceptional in all this activity? One commercial enterprise would suggest not. Like Des Moines, Iowa, Reading is regarded as THE typical town for market researchers checking out a sample of the national population. When it comes to marketing a new breakfast cereal, car or credit card, if enough people buy it in Reading, the country as a whole will buy enough. So you tend to get an astonishing number of smiling middle aged ladies with clipboards ready to catch your eye and ask you questions about your tastes in restaurants, teabags or travellers cheques. It suggests that Reading is most likely typical of much of Britain in religious behaviour.

Has anyone added up all these "little" churches separate from the mainstream Christian congregations to see what the active Christian population of Britain is? At least one website (www.vexan.co.uk/UK/religion.html) packs an awful lot of really awful religious statistical news into a relatively small space. It is compiled by an atheist from credible sources and offers many amusing reflections, such as "Do Jedi Knights count as atheists?" and the difficulty of counting Satanists. Even packing all the small churches into the headcount, it suggests that only 6% of the British population attend Christian churches regularly. Perhaps 50% of the population declare a belief in God, though that should not be interpreted, as it often is, as belief in anything resembling orthodox Christian teachings. It leaves a lot of people with no solid basis for ethical conduct and no consolation at times of greatest distress. No wonder the punkers enjoyed such success.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

So Little at State - Take 2

Stan,

What's got me going on politics and corruption is the fact that no one else I have read or heard about seems to have commented on the sinister consequences of current styles of corruption, specifically Tony Blair/J P Morgan and the state co-option of charities. Obviously corruption has always been part of public life, but the scale and manner of Blair's corruption is not just a function of his bottomless venality. It was a plain advance bribe for every other senior politician on the planet. The subversion of charity independence is all the more depressing as the state takes another bite out of a vital part of civic society which offered a real alternative to state provision, a separate source of expertise and opinion.

Worst of all, the various Churches should be organisations clearly independent of the state. But, surprise, surprise, there is a group of clergy, the so-called "Commission of Bishops", who are only too ready to sing the praises of the EU - because they're funded by the EU. Note report below by the Cranmer blog: (named in honour of Archbishop Cranmer, immolated c. 1556)

====================================================================

To Cranmer’s total incredulity (and, judging by the howls of laughter, to that of the entire House of Commons), this was a line which the Foreign Secretary gave to the House of Commons as evidence for the innate goodness of the Treaty of Lisbon, and as a substantive reason for the House to support it.

His Grace is dumbfounded:

Firstly, that the Foreign Secretary should bestow upon the Commission of Bishops such religio-political clout as to be able to sway the elected representatives of the Commons; and secondly, the delusion that this group is held in such high spiritual regard that their patronage might constitute some moral argument for selling the United Kingdom down the river.

Bishops have been little more than a prop of government for quite some time. They are now routinely wheeled out to sit on committees or to ‘impartially’ investigate whatever the Prime Minister wishes to be investigated from the moral high ground, or it is they to whom politicians allude when the debased is in need of sanctification and the sepulchres need a little whitening.

But this ‘Commission of Bishops’ is not constituted of the leaders of the Church of England: it is a Roman Catholic-led ecumenical body which is financed by the European Union to produce reports singing the praises of said union with all glory, laud and honour.

Its stated objectives are:

- To monitor and analyse the political process of the European Union
- To inform and raise awareness within the Church of the development of EU policy and legislation
- To promote reflection, based on the Church's social teaching, on the challenges facing a united Europe

It is led by Bishop van Luyn of Rotterdam, a member of the Pontifical Council for Culture and adviser to the Pontifical Commission for the Cultural Heritage of the Church. Its present occupation is to consider such issues as the ‘Christian reflection on climate change in the EU’, but, as the Foreign Secretary observes, it has recently been concerned with fervently supporting the EU Constitution:

Monday, February 4, 2008

So Little At Stake

I love the old joke : "Why are local elections so vicious, bitter and hard fought? Because there is so little at stake".

This is superbly illustrated in that little gem "Election" where Reese Witherspoon's high school election involves enough skullduggery and plotting to fuel a national campaign. Similarly our recent little scandal involving the Tory Member of Parliament Derek Conway produced a prodigious amount of media vitriol all targeted on a truly tenth-division villain. Everybody, from the BBC and "The Times" to the Devil's Kitchen and fellow political bloggers queued up to spray him with industrial-strength excrement from high-pressure hoses.

Admittedly, the utterly venal Conway deserved every ounce of ordure heaped on him. He is in danger of giving shameless crooks a bad name. First, he had employed his wife as his secretary at the taxpayers' expense. Er...OK, this is permitted under British Parliamentary rules, though totally verboten in the US and German legislatures. Lots of MPs employ their spouses as assistants. Then he employed his elder son as a researcher.....er, um, yes, this is still permissible. Then he recruited his younger son, also at taxpayers's expense.....and his elder son's friend (or catamite, if you believe the less charitable scribblers). Sadly, he did not follow the example of the Roman emperor Caligula, who appointed his favourite horse to the Senate. At least the noble animal would have cost the taxpayers much less than the sons and would have been just as useful, seeing as neither son appears to have done a stroke of work during the time they were on the public payroll.

True, Conway had heavy expenses. His sons went to Harrow, one of the most expensive boys' private schools in the land (Around £24,000/$48,000 per year). His daughter went to St Mary's, the top Catholic girls school in Britain, which is at Ascot, 15 miles east of Reading. One of my fellow parishioners, a Cambridge graduate, is a teacher at St Mary's. (I have not yet had a chance to ask if she has met this unsavoury toad.) Like other private schools, it can afford higher salaries than State schools and thus attracts the best teachers. It charges a basic £25,000 ($50,000) per boarding pupil per year and God alone knows how much more if you throw in music lessons, horse riding, school trips, etc.

It makes our highly regarded girls schools in Reading look bargain basement. Abbey School and St Joseph's Convent charge only £8,000 to £11,000 per year, albeit for day pupils, not boarders. Such fees are within the reach of middle class business and professional people, even working class people prepared to make serious sacrifices. As I noted in an earlier post, some Reading state schools are so indescribably awful that one father was prepared to clean toilets at midnight to send his daughter to a private school. But St Mary's pupils mostly come from seriously rich families, both British high society and overseas tycoons and nobility.

As in the case of the CIA traitor Robert Hannsen, who spent some of his Russian gold on Catholic schools for his children, it was good to see even loathsome villains understanding the virtues of Catholic education. But I can't either Harrow or St Marys advertising him as one of their illustrious supporters.

Like Hannsen, Conway provides a superb example of the need to check public servants' lifestyles against their official incomes. His MP salary would have been around £60,000 at a time when he was spending up to £73,000 a year on school fees alone for Harrow and St Mary's. Plainly he could not afforded a cup of tea without a hefty bank loan or extra income. Yet none of his close friends in Parliament seem to have raised any awkward questions about his funding the school fees. Possibly his rich wife coughed up something for her offsprings' schooling, but I doubt that we'll ever see the full accounts.

Once caught, Conway continued to bluster than he had done nothing wrong, that MPs are underpaid and they should receive at least £100,000 a year for their services. No wonder that one blogger was recommending public execution for him and his fellow corrupt MPs, with their rotting corpses left on public display "pour encourager les autres". His punishment so far (10 days suspension from Parliament, plus repaying a few thousand) would not scare a ten year old. He will continue to serve as MP until the next election, drawing his £60K plus expenses plus wife's salary.....

Part of the media interest was inflated by his elder son's louche lifestyle, which makes Liberace look like Bruce Willis. It was a great way to do some genteel gay-bashing under the cover of investigating corruption. But the amount of media venom expended was completely out of proportion to Conway's offence. Admittedly the £100,000 wasted on paying his sons for invisible services is a lot of money for an ordinary British family - around four years' average salary, the size of a typical mortgage. But it is of sub-atomic dimensions compared with the £100 billion squandered on countless futile public projects every year. This somehow fails to excite comparable outrage. As George Orwell said of one monstrous waste of public money in the middle of WW2, once a scandal gets too big it becomes invisible. Conway's predations were imaginable and understandable.

Also, I could not help feeling twinges of unease. After all, I profited pretty well at taxpayers' expense during my civil service career. I was perfectly happy to go on utterly useless courses in various attractive parts of the country, claim all the expenses and freebies going, take a hefty redundancy settlement after a year's total idleness or useless make-work on full pay... Adjusting for inflation, I made considerably more than the Conway clan. If you multiply my loot by that of all my colleagues in similar positions, we made the Conways look like public benefactors. And as the feral media, with their legendary corruption, expense manipulation and grotesquely inflated salaries, they are the least fit people on God's earth to criticise anyone for fiddling money. So much of people's behaviour depends on the surrounding culture of the organisation within which they work.

Also the whole business smears the reputations and the honest value of most ordinary MPs. Some champion extremely unpopular causes, such as the "Guildford Four" who were jailed in 1974 on false charges of IRA terrorist attacks. It took years of patient, dogged, courageous, intelligent and persistent investigating and campaigning by one ordinary London MP to finally win their release in 1989. This was after the MP, an utterly unassuming and gentle family man, had truckloads of vilification thrown at him as an "IRA sympathiser" by our indescribably evil tabloids. The old joke that "in America the accused is innocent until the papers come out the next morning" applies overwhelmingly in Britain.

Some MPs contribute to the national media and add to the merriment of the nation - notably our local Class A buffoon and philanderer Boris Johnson, MP for Henley-on Thames, eight miles east of Reading. Heck, some actually make intelligent comments on politics and other aspects of national life and have a real educational value (even Boris is usually worth reading).

But most MPs are unknown outside their local areas. Their long hours of unspectacular slog, their virtues, failings and minor triumphs seldom make it into the local media, much less the London stage. One of our local MPs has no material ambitions beyond the ability to go fishing on his days off. He runs an office in a small house on Oxford Road, one of the poorer areas of town, and is available to talk on all manner of problems. A parishioner rang him about her campaign to get a physiotherapy pool at the Royal Berkshire Hospital. He said: "Come down in half an hour and I'll have the kettle on." He spent time with her planning the campaign and the pool has been installed.

The local MP is still the one locally accessible person who is perceived as an effective ally of the little guy in battles with national or local bureaucracy. I remember my days in the Social Security office; when an aggrieved claimant threatened to complain to his/her MP, he/she got priority attention. If he/she actually complained to the MP, our manager received a letter on House of Commons headed notepaper from the MP demanding to know what we were doing to this voter. In some cases, the claimant had a genuine grievance. In others, they were unholy pains in the ass, professional complainers, mentally deranged..... It did not matter. Once this letter arrived from the MP, your life was not worth living until you had resolved the case and the manager could write a satisfactory reply to the MP. Of course, the people who did not complain simply slid lower down the pile of files. The squeaky wheel gets the grease.

My favourite was the blind guy who was taught to touch-type at the Department's expense. He then proceeded to bombard the office (and sometimes the MP) with a series of immaculately touch-typed letters complaining about some error in calculating his Social Security. He knew far more about the benefits system than our little 17 year old clerks straight out of school, so it is not surprising that there were occasional errors. On one occasion, I had to go round to his house to grovel on behalf of the Department after some trifling error, the MP's letter inside the file in my briefcase. On one unforgettable day, a file arrived with a huge flag attached "PRIME MINISTER INTERESTED". An unhappy claimant had written direct to the Prime Minister's office, where some minor civil servant had raised the file and passed it via London DSS HQ to Reading. But it raised visions of Margaret Thatcher (it was the early days of her reign) bellowing down the phone at our hapless manager.

As the Devil's Kitchen aptly commented, once the latest European Treaty is passed by Parliament, our MPs will be overpaid regional councillors, less able to defend our interests than a dead dog in the street. It will be a real loss if these often reviled, often flawed, often overpaid, quite often oversexed, but more often devoted and undervalued individuals lose their public function. The media monsters might have to resort to exposing their own flaws, sexual perversions. lies, corruption and financial swindles and that would never do............

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Translation into English...please.

It takes years of effort to gain reasonable competence in a foreign language. Often I feel it takes even more work to be able to translate from one form of English to another. Political language is an obviously subtle dialect which is best translated via humour, as in these examples of British politicians' words (and what they really mean):

"Just because I'm Conservative, it doesn't mean I back all Mrs Thatcher's ideas". (All Hail to Thee, Blessed Margaret, Earth Goddess and Mistress of my soul.)

"Just because I'm Labour, it doesn't mean I'm a raging socialist". (We'll keep the Red Flag flying....)

"Just because I'm Liberal Democrat, it doesn't mean I support lunatic policies". (When we're elected, we'll not only legalise paedophilia, we'll make it compulsory.)

Often the information omitted from a politician's speech is far more relevant than that included. You have to translate what the lying SOB should have said. If you think I have a low opinion of the Reverend Blair and his colleagues, you should see the wickedly funny and incredibly foulmouthed political blog Devil's Kitchen (devilskitchen.me.uk). Another blogger recommended him thus:

The Devil's Kitchen is one of the foremost blogs in the UK. He makes "Those Bastards", much loved by Dr Crippen, seem like a Quaker Meeting. The DK is bawdy, foul-mouthed, tasteless, vulgar, offensive and frequently goes beyond all boundaries of taste and decency. So why on earth does Dr Crippen read the DK? Because he reduces me to a state of quivering, helpless laughter.


The DK author recently described our Foreign Secretary David Milliband as "a mendacious sack of shit". This is probably the only nice thing he has ever said about Milliband, or indeed any British politician. It was a refreshing reminder of the savage abuse Jonathan Swift heaped on the high and mighty 300 years ago. This particular vilification was inspired by Milliband's reference to several top British charities supporting the latest European Union treaty, which is about to be press ganged through Parliament. How could any decent person disagree with the opinions of the biggest and most respected NGOs in the country? Well, on closer scrutiny of their accounts, the Devil discovered that all these "charities" are in receipt of truckloads of British Government and/or EU money. No wonder they were all singing from the Milliband hymn sheet.

It was an extra depressing revelation for me personally, as I actively supported one of them (the NSPCC, the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children) for 20 years and raised thousands of pounds for them. (As many cynics have pointed out, in Britain we have the Royal Society for the Protection of Cruelty to Animals.) The NSPCC was founded by the Reverend Benjamin Waugh in 1889. He was sickened, as many people were, by the thousands of abused, neglected and hungry children in London, the biggest and richest city in the world at that time. (In the first place it was the London SPCC.) Unlike the others, he had the drive and determination to do something about it. His portrait shows a man with the flowing beard and piercing eyes of an Old Testament prophet. It took someone with ferocious "fire in the belly" to save these children and he had it by the furnaceful.

For over a century the NSPCC did a prodigious amount of child protection work on a shoestring income. But, of course, charity bosses have become more and more ambitious, expansionist, "professional" and "commercial". How could you possibly argue with "professionalism" and "efficiency"? The more money raised, the more you can help abused children, famine victims, multiple sclerosis sufferers, or whoever the charity serves. I went to a NSPCC meeting around 1992 where the national fundraising director explained their latest moneymaking ideas. He obviously lived on a different planet to the street collectors like me. Of course, he still wanted the money from the little guys, like the local, tireless and utterly faithful fundraising committees, but his everyday life involved big business sponsorship (e.g. get a supermarket chain to adopt you as their "Charity of the Year") , seeking major media visibility, launching expensive commercials and PR campaigns, promoting initiatives such affinity credit cards......

Judging from the plum senior charity jobs advertised in national newspapers, he was typical of a new breed of charity careerists. Sooner or later, that sort of "charity" executive is drawn inevitably to the bottomless trough of taxpayers' money controlled by the odious likes of Blair and Milliband. But once a charity takes any substantial sum of government money, even for supplying specific expert "services", it is a lost soul. You know that a person needs only 5 or 10% of shares in a business to have a controlling stake. You don't need 51% of the stock.

Similarly, once the state is contributing more than, say, 5% of income, it has the charity by the balls. The charity bosses can't live (or think they can't live) without the state's money and thus cannot help but support any government policy. In effect they are a branch of the state, but a special type of branch where the luckless public are voluntarily paying most of the tax. The "charity" street collectors like me, rattling our boxes in our spare time, become unpaid taxmen. It is a win-win-win situation for the state. They co-opt charity resources and thus effectively increase taxation without Parliamentary approval. They silence a previously independent organisation, held in great public esteem because of its enormous good work, which might have opinions unpalatable to the Government.

These opinions carry considerable weight if the charity is perceived as honest, competent and independent in its specialist area. An obvious example in the case of the NSPCC was some years ago when it pointed out the blindingly obvious - that children are safest from physical and sexual abuse in a traditional intact family. Plainly this is not welcome advice in numerous "progressive" circles. Also, as I pointed out in an earlier post, existing Government policy undermines family stability by facilitating adultery and single parenthood and thus probably increases the sum of childhood misery. But charities can go on being perceived as "independent" for a long time after they have been captured by the State. How many people ever examine their accounts, think of who is paying the piper and apply a suitable interpretation (Non Government Organisation means Government Organisation) to their PR utterances? I never looked at the NSPCC accounts in the 20+ years I collected for them.

The implications of the state (and, even worse, the EU) controlling "NGO"s are endlessly sinister. The whole point of a charity is that it is supported by voluntary contributions. This has the disadvantage of restricted income and involves continuous competitive effort to fundraise. But it encourages creation of a widespread support base where the loss of an individual donor is less important. It ensures continuous contact with the general public and their opinions. It offers the dignity of independence where the charity is free to provide services where it thinks the most urgent need or appropriate recipients exist.

Also it is visibly distinct from local or national government. This was very significant in the case of the NSPCC. Parents knew that the local NSPCC "cruelty" officer was not a policeman or civil servant or social worker. In many cases parents at the end of their tether approached the NSPCC to seek help when they had hurt their children, or felt about to hurt them. They trusted the long established reputation of the charity - that they would be sympathetically helped and the family kept together, with the risk of the children being taken into care much reduced. Concerned family members or neighbours who suspected child abuse would approach the NSPCC in preference to the police or social services.

All the opposite factors apply as the charity subtly slides into state control. Why should citizens give their hard earned (and hard taxed) money to an organisation which is also receiving piles of the tax money extorted from them? The whole motivation to give and the nobility and generosity of charitable giving is undermined. The energy of the charity gets diverted in ways alien to their original objectives. The fact that the NSPCC had any opinion on the European Union is bizarre: what special knowledge or interest have they in international relations? The charity has to pay attention to an area if its paymasters hint that resources are needed there, regardless of their own expert opinions. Why should the public trust the employees of a charity which is merely a disguised branch of the state and is thus obliged to observe every highly suspect regulation and guideline?

The public confidence in the NSPCC has also been severely damaged by a series of disasters, notably the horrible death of Victoria Climbie. This little girl was failed by every agency which might have helped her, including the NSPCC, the London Social Services and a hospital doctor in the National Health Service. About the only person with the intelligence and compassion to help her was a cab driver, who saw her catastrophic condition shortly before she died and drove her straight to hospital. The ever increasing income did little to improve the competence or basic common sense of NSPCC staff. This is hardly surprising as over half the grossly expanded NSPCC income is now going into publicity campaigns rather than child protection services.

Every organisation makes mistakes, but the way they respond and admit fault is crucial. The PR speak of the current NSPCC director defending the charity after Victoria's death was in unbelievable contrast to the attitude of the NSPCC National Director in the late 1980s after a comparable disaster. He was a doctor, who, like the retired doctor in my earlier post, sadly lacked all training in bullshit, evasion, garbage, Political Correctness, Public Relations and Communications Strategy. Heidi Koseda, a 5 year old girl, was locked in a room and left to starve to death. Before she died, she was reduced to eating strips of wallpaper torn from the wall. A NSPCC officer came to her home, but failed to see her and put the file away after falsely reporting he had seen her. The Director at that time could speak only in plain honest English which needed no translation and his grief and distress at the failure of the charity was palpable.

The public response to this tragedy, just before the charity's 100th anniversary in 1989, was remarkable. People were putting extra money in collecting boxes, saying that the NSPCC had received a pile of appalling publicity, but they knew it was an isolated lapse in a huge history of public service. The NSPCC was still serving abused children who would suffer all the more if the public lost faith and stopped giving money.

The language of money looks something like English, but the quantities described in the media usually lack any connection with everyday reality. What does £12.4 billion ($25 billion) really mean in plain English? Put one way, it is one of the estimates for the National Health Service computer project I mentioned in a recent posting. Admittedly this figure is probably as fictional and flexible as the shoe production figures in George Orwell's "1984". But you have to start somewhere, even if the figure won't end at 12.4 billion.

Spoken quickly, it sounds like a larger version of your weekly grocery bill. Translated into physical reality, it is more than half of the houses in Reading, a town of 250,000 people. Put another way it is three large family cars for every single man, woman and child in Reading. There is physically not enough space in town to park these cars. In plain English, these 800,000 cars parked nose to tail would stretch from Detroit to Los Angeles. It is an insane, unreal, eye watering, mind bending, obscene and unbelievable sum of money for a service ancilliary to the alleged core functions of the NHS (i.e. caring for the sick, injured and disabled).

There is no reasonable confidence that this monstrous Information Technology (IT) scheme will ever work remotely satisfactorily or deliver any benefits commensurate with the investment. Yet once launched, there seems to be no political will to cancel it or settle for a more modest system and spend the loot on some real NHS disaster areas. There is no shortage of the latter, despite what you hear from the ludicrous Michael Moore in "Sicko". Care of the elderly, cleaning/infection control and decent prostheses for amputees all spring to mind as needing radical improvement. These are all problems where fancy IT support is irrelevant. But, as numerous cynics pointed out, organisations exist for their own benefit, not for the good of the luckless clients. The one thing in "Sicko" which was right on target was the depiction of the NHS doctor's lifestyle, with his new Audi and luxury home. Doctors have done best out of the recent massive increases in NHS spending.

The lack of basic numeracy among much of the population is a stumbling block in translating any Government expenditure into plain English and getting people sufficiently outraged. This £12.4 billion is a fraction of the money squandered by the British Government alone (£100 billion per year according to one estimate). But the ten or twelve figure sums poured down the toilet lack any clear physical meaning. And don't even get me started on the EU corruption and waste...... If more journalists expressed some government folly by saying, for example, that this NHS project alone will cost new Ford Mondeos stretching from London to Moscow, would it make any difference?

Does any of this have relevance to a Christian? Well, so many UK and US charities are of Christian origins and continue to draw massive Christian support. The "professional" fundraisers really know this when they are targeting possible sources of help, whether cash donations or volunteers. Churches are always near the top of their hit list. The choice of Christmas cards offered by secular charities for fundraising purposes is revealing; they always include a good choice of beautiful religious cards along with those depicting only snow, robins and holly. It is sickening to see Christian goodwill being hijacked by an alien state or superstate and pressed into anti-Christian service. But at least there are still independent charities to which you can switch your money.

Politics is far worse because there is no alternative Parliament or credible existing alternative parties. The few which exist in Britain are tiny, powerless and stuffed with nutcases and sociopaths. Setting up a new Christian party would be horribly expensive. Yet some alternative is desperately needed; the shameless mendacity and venality of politicians in the main parties invites only the worst and most cynical interpretations. Tony Blair proclaimed 10 years ago that he was a "pretty straight guy" and has now moved to a 4 million dollar sinecure with JP Morgan. The only sane conclusion you can draw is that every senior British politician is automatically corrupt. The 4 million dollars is obviously intended as up front corruption of every top British (and other senior Western) politician for the rest of eternity; keep your nose clean, don't offend us and your semi-eternal reward will be great on earth... Like the corruption of charities above, it is an all-time bargain. Great control for very little money.

As bad money drives out good, so any remotely intelligent and honorable Christian will shun political life. Even if you are heroically idealistic and austere, you cannot help but suspect that your colleagues are eyeing a massive future payoff. And they will be far more ruthless and less principled than you in any fighting for senior positions. Genuine Christian politicians of the past, such as Konrad Adenauer, will seem as unreal and unimaginable as a Hobbit. It is already impossible to imagine any Western politician behaving as courageously and honourably as he did, in resisting the flying of Nazi flags over his home city of Cologne.