Category: Uncategorized

  • In defence of uncertainty (over Syria)

    You can be sure of one thing if you’re in the business of putting your views out there, and that is that should you express an uncertainty in some matter where others have strong opinions, someone will take exception to your doing so. This happened to me two weeks ago when, in a post about dithering over Syria, I quoted a passage from Michael Walzer in which I echoed his doubts concerning what President Obama should now be doing about that country. I was taken to task by Kellie Strøm, as if by sharing some of Walzer’s uncertainty I must be letting myself down vis-à-vis some of my more robust previous positions. Kellie and I go back a long way as blogospheric friends; we’ve been in communication for the greater part of the last decade and I take his views seriously. I’m not about to let a misunderstanding over one political issue get in the way of that. But in his response to me some misunderstanding there has been, so I want to put the record straight.

    Two ways in which my current view can be misconstrued from what Kellie writes in that post are these: (a) you might think that my doubts extended to whether the defeat of the Assad regime would be a desirable outcome; and/or (b) you might think that because in my ‘dithering’ post I cited a Human Rights Watch report on a Syrian opposition atrocity, I was putting the regime and the opposition to it on a par with one another.

    Neither construal is merited. Regarding (a), I think my general attitude to the Syrian regime and its future is amply demonstrated by these posts between 2011 and today: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. More specifically, I have blogged about how recent events in Syria throw a light backwards on to what might have been the costs of non-intervention in Iraq – a subject which opponents of intervention there just love not to dwell on. As for (b), I can’t do better than to refer you to a post of Jeff Weintraub’s; there is not a balance of atrocity in this matter so far as I’m aware, and my reference to the HRW report was not meant to, and didn’t, say otherwise.

    All that now registered, I stand by my uncertainties. As a consistent supporter of the principles of humanitarian intervention and R2P and regime change in certain circumstances, I have not ever overlooked the crucial justifying condition that external intervention must have a reasonable chance of making a difference for the better. Others may know what action to be taken by Obama and the US could do this right now. But for my part I’m not sure. That was the uncertainty I was expressing. It doesn’t extend to either of the issues on which I fear Kellie’s post might have exposed me to possible misunderstanding.

  • Simm card

    Like Gaul the internet-reading community is divided into three parts. There are those who love Twitter, those who hate it, and those who are indifferent to it. I’m with John Simm:

    Twitter has restored my faith in humanity. I thought I’d hate it, but while there are lots of knobheads, there are even more lovely people. It delights me how witty and friendly most people are.

    I wouldn’t quite say ‘restored my faith in humanity’, which I hadn’t lost in any case, but you shouldn’t knock it till you’ve tried it.

  • Writer’s choice 383: Penny Hancock

    Penny Hancock was born in London and grew up in Greenwich and Blackheath. She studied English in Newcastle Upon Tyne, then taught English as a foreign language in Italy, Morocco and Greece, before training as a primary school teacher and having three children. She has been teaching and writing in Cambridge since the early 1990s – writing both fiction for Cambridge University Press’s English Readers series and articles for magazines and newspapers. Penny’s first novel, Tideline, came out in 2012; it is a psychological thriller and was chosen for Richard and Judy’s Summer Reads in 2012. Her second novel, The Darkening Hour, comes out in August of this year. Here Penny writes about Beryl Bainbridge’s Harriet Said.

    Penny Hancock on Harriet Said by Beryl Bainbridge

    I love Beryl Bainbridge’s work, especially her earlier books which are short, almost novellas, but which pack into their pages more astute observation of human frailty and the vagaries of the psyche than many longer novels. Her writing is spare and precise, she is a master of the circular plot and the shocking twist. I was always fascinated by Beryl Bainbridge the person as well, her bohemian lifestyle, her look, her literary persona, her wry humour and her famous excesses. Her novels lay bare the absurdity of the commonplace, and plumb the darkest recesses of human nature.

    Harriet Said is her first novel. It is the story of two teenagers stuck in a claustrophobic northern seaside town one summer in the 1950s. The unnamed thirteen-year-old narrator is in thrall to her wayward friend Harriet who is old before her time and sophisticated beyond her years. There are intimations that there may be a sexual attraction between the two girls though it is never made explicit.

    The narrator watches helplessly as Harriet is loved and admired by all who come into contact with her even though she is spiteful and dominating – a brilliantly observed character with the kind of disconcerting power and ability to manipulate that teenage girls often possess. Together the two girls befriend a local they call ‘the Tsar’, a pathetic and lonely middle-aged married man. The subtext is that the Tsar might have paedophile tendencies, though this is implied rather than stated and Bainbridge pulls no punches about the ability of young girls to manipulate older men. The narrator erroneously interprets Harriet’s suggestion that they should ‘humble’ the Tsar, as seducing him, and we presume she sleeps with him, driven by the desire to impress Harriet, and flattered by his attentions. This is the tipping point from where the rest of the action unfolds in a horrifying and inevitable way.

    Bainbridge’s style is succinct, her observations astute and her handling of plot deft. We are constantly left wondering who the guilty party is and questioning where our sympathies lie, though the young narrator is obviously out of her depth, yearning for a childhood and home life that are no longer accessible to her, so that the narrative is both unsettling and imbued with poignancy.

    ‘It seemed as if the whole summer had been lived between the two extremes of joy and fear, and both were unbearable.’

    In her inimitable style Beryl Bainbridge shows us how the two girls wield a power they hardly know they possess and that is more far-reaching than either of them envisages, as they inveigle their way into the Tsar’s family home, leading us helplessly towards the terrible twist at the end.

    The novel caused shock waves when it came out, was refused by several publishers who found its subject matter ‘revolting’, touching as it does upon taboo subjects: sex and violence between an older married man and a teenager, though nothing is ever stated categorically and so forces readers to ask uncomfortable questions about themselves and their darkest imaginings, as well as those of the characters.

    [All the pieces that have appeared in this series, with the links to them, are listed in the index here.]

  • The Greenwalding of Terry Eagleton

    In writing the other day about the failure of logic displayed by Glenn Greenwald, I said I meant to return to something murkier in his thinking and I still mean to do this. But today Terry Eagleton has helped to break the task up into more manageable components, for he puts together a similar case – if such it can be called – to Greenwald’s, regarding explanation and justification of terrorist atrocity, and the feebleness of the argument is so transparent as to merit quick dissection.

    You can guess the first move: it’s that some people ‘imagine, in their muddled way, that to explain an event is to excuse it’. But how can this be? If it were so we would not have the activity of the dispassionate historian. Says Eagleton:

    Do they also think this about the crimes of Hitler or Stalin? Are they really suggesting that historians who delve into the origins of fascism are secret Nazi sympathisers, or that to lay bare the causes of the Gulag is to exonerate its architects?

    There’s a short answer to this. No, there are two short answers. First, Eagleton is right: you can explain a bad event without being an apologist for it. But, second, you can also purport to explain something precisely in order to excuse it. Or: To understand is not necessarily to condone, yet it just might be. The logic here isn’t difficult to grasp; not all people are academics, but some people are academics. Etc. It is also the case that what presents itself as historical explanation can sometimes have a plainly apologetic function. I recommend to Eagleton’s attention the so-called Historians’ Dispute – the Historikerstreit – in West Germany (as was) in the late 1980s, and the contributions to it in particular of Ernst Nolte.

    Stand by now for a triumph of Eagletonian reason. To see some rationality in the vile action of another does not in itself justify the action and – wait for it – the alternative to recognizing some rationality there ‘is to see such events as utterly without rhyme or reason, like some baffling Dadaist happening’. Or, again: ‘if you deny your enemy any shred of rationality, you come perilously close to excusing him’. In other words, to deny the rational explanation proffered by the person himself, the one responsible for the bad action, and by the thousand commentators who accept the explanation at face value, is to forswear all possible rational explanation. As if there were only ever one candidate for a rational explanation.

    Now, if a man says that he’s butchered someone on the street because of… Afghanistan, it is then true, if he is not lying or self-deceived, that somewhere in the causal chain leading up to that murderous act Western intervention against Al-Qaida and the Taliban has played some part in bringing the atrocity about. But it is by no means a sufficient explanation, as you can quickly ascertain by starting to count up in your head all those angered or upset about Western intervention who haven’t butchered anybody. At the same time, you can start to compute how many people responsible for jihadist terrorism today not only cite Afghanistan and/or Iraq but frame the reference within the terms of an Islamist ideology according to which the slaughter of innocents is an apt response to Western foreign policy. That’s a very large number of people. It is also true, of course, that not all Islamists commit terrorist murder, so this isn’t a complete explanation either, but you’d think the ideological factor should have some prominence.

    A rational explanation of these acts is therefore available that places central emphasis on its ideological causes, and doesn’t just parrot what the jihadists themselves say. And those leftists and liberals (verkrappt section) who always draw attention towards what the killers say and away from the belief system that inspires them are not just appealing to rational explanation, they are offering a very particular type of skewed ‘explanation’ that obscures a crucial element of the picture.

    Imagine men who commit rape and say, ‘I did it because she was asking for it; you should have seen how she was dressed, and flaunting herself, etc.’ And Doc Tezzawald, of the College of the Fifth Light and sometime columnist of El Dragunia, says that one must concede some rationality to these men and to their explanation for their acts of violence against women, otherwise one has denied the possibility of rational explanation as such – even though plenty of men don’t rape women, however dressed, and even though those who do do so justify their actions by reference to a pernicious belief system, to which Doc Tezzawald gives little prominence. His is the Tezzawald thesis, you see: that if zese guys say zis is why zey did it, zis must be why zey did it. You might want to recommend him a few readings in the philosophy of language. You might, come to think of it, suggest he read a novel or three, linking up to a tradition in which the subtleties of what people say and why they say it have been richly explored.

    Here are two more contexts to think about. The Tezzawaldians, always quick to explain (without justifying) the likes of the Woolwich killing or of the Boston bombings, nearly never, if they ever, make any effort to explain (without justifying) the use by Western governments of torture and extraordinary rendition. They do not urge upon people the need to understand torture as a response to what the jihadists do, on the grounds that if we fail so to understand it, we’ll lose all grip on rational explanation. And they’re also very light on encouraging others to see that these rational killers seem not at all to get upset when, not Western governments, but their fellow Islamists kill Muslims in Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria and multiple other places.

    But, you know, to explain is not to justify. Well, sometimes it isn’t. But sometimes it is to condone or attempt to mitigate or get people to look away from what you don’t want them to notice.

  • Bob of the world

    I love this; it’s just up my street. Someone at Slate has devised an interactive map showing every place on the globe that crops up in a Bob Dylan song. From Italy to Mozambique, from the White House to the Texas plains, from the Grand Coulee Dam to Durango, everything is there. Try it and see.

    To accompany that, here’s the man in a performance of one of my favourite of his songs, ‘Man of Peace’.

    And… where does that song take him? In one version of it the man of peace ‘can ride down Niagara Falls in the barrels of your skull’. (For both links, thanks: CT.)

  • Trees of South Cambridge

    You may not have given enough consideration to trees. In case you haven’t, I’m encouraging you to do so.

    022

    Photo (16)

  • Facing down atrocity with humanity

    If you haven’t already done so you may like to read about Ingrid Loyau-Kennett. She is the woman who, in her response to the Woolwich killing,…

    … became a national hero. While up to 60 others… stood back and watched, the 48-year-old, a former Cub Scout and Brownie leader trained only in first aid, single-handedly kept the attackers calm and distracted until help arrived. Then, this extraordinary woman got back on her bus and carried on with the rest of her day. Her actions have inspired the country. As reports of her bravery emerged, she has been called fearless; selfless; a model citizen.

    And she says ‘I don’t think I’ve done anything extraordinary.’ It’s always good to read about people like Loyau-Kennett. There are both general and specific reasons why. The general reasons have to do with seeing ordinary human decency standing up to the worst depravities; it gives us hope that we too and others might have the courage to do the same if we were ever called upon to. A more specific reason is that every time one of these horrors happens, there is immediately an outpouring of context-setting drivel from commentators bending over backwards not to be too harshly judgemental about the crime committed and its perpetrators. Against this, exemplars of virtue provide some moral and emotional antidote.

  • Spiky, memorable, catchy

    For a new edition of Sophie Hannah’s Selected Poems, what is called for is a new review. Nicholas Lezard duly obliges, writing:

    … there is room for the spiky, memorable, catchy tunes of Sophie Hannah.

    With complete objectivity I think I’ll second that. I can prove that it’s what I’ve long thought. After all, I’ve often made room for poems by Sophie Hannah here on normblog. See, for example, these: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

  • End of an era – this time

    The annual exercise is due here of drawing a line under the football season, with that relishable table of comparative positions between certain top (er, and now middling) teams. Here it is for the last 22 seasons.

    Manchester United: 2/1/1/2/1/1/2/1/1/1/3/1/3/3/2/1/1/1/2/1/2/1 (= 1.5)

    Arsenal: 4/10/4/12/5/3/1/2/2/2/1/2/1/2/4/4/3/4/3/4/3/4 (= 3.6)

    Liverpool: 6/6/8/4/3/4/3/7/4/3/2/5/4/5/3/3/4/2/7/6/8/7 (= 4.7)

    Chelsea: 14/11/14/11/11/6/4/3/5/6/6/4/2/1/1/2/2/3/1/2/6/3 (= 5.4)

    In last year’s posting of the table, when there’d been a lot of anticipatory chat about this possibly being the end of an era, since City had pipped United to the title, I thought we should wait and see. We waited and we’ve seen. This year, however, an era truly has come to an end with the departure of Sir Alex as manager. I think the above table shows as well as anything could what a titan he has been. No, stats don’t tell you everything, but this particular record is unanswerable. For what it’s worth, a special normblog accolade to him.

  • Gathering at the river 5

    In top slot for this series should be the episode from The Wild Bunch. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a good embeddable clip for it. The one below is dubbed. Still, you get the hymn itself well enough, along with the mayhem.

    There’s a much better link for the scene here.