A Nation of Haters

 
I've mentioned this before -but it is so striking and it hits you so hard, it's worth mentioning again. In Britain, everybody hates everybody else. Board a bus (maybe not in London, as there they're permanently overcrowded and you can't even make out people, just smelly armpits and mouldy rucksacks) and you will feel the antagonism in the air. The obese woman will glower at somebody of normal size, the pensioner will glare at the woman with a pram (oh not for long, they're all to cowardly to make a fuss), the whole charabanc will collectively hate the one non-white person daring to sit down. The bus driver could murder every single one of them, you can see the hatred in his eyes when you get on.

It is the only country where car drivers actively try to run over pedestrians crossing the road. They speed up, instead of slowing down, it's a collective sport there (I am not making this up, I experienced it many many times in Edinburgh and elsewhere.)  Road rage is a daily occurrence (only recently one woman died because she asked another one to move her car out of the way.) There are millions of other permutations in that country where one group of society actively, aggressively and openly hates another one.

Why is this, you might ask? Not being a sociologist, or prison psychologist - just somebody who's lived there far too long, my take is that the country is so run-down, so impoverished, crumbling and decaying that a great big greed/envy bubble has built up. Everybody feels entitled to something that either has been taken away or is under threat of being cut. So they figure, (rather primitively it might be said but hey ho)  if it weren't for the immigrants, the white-trash English family could carry on enjoying their benefits. If it wasn't for all those pensioners, the NHS benefits would be just like they used to be in 1962. If it weren't for the attractive size 10 women, all the ugly obese ones wouldn't be reminded that they might have to give up eating five mega-buckets of chips per day. If it weren't for them toffs, we could share the spoils of their fortune. It's a sort of low-intellect socialism mixed with an animal instinct of "I want that".

So you can imagine, how powerful and apoplecticly incandescent their collective hatred of Germany is. The country that they (because they live in a rference system which is forever 1945) conquered. The country which unfortunately then didn't squander its Marshall Aid money (for the record: Britain got even more money than Germany from the US) on overseas colonialism, an insane idea of world power via the 'Commonwealth', and a socialist wet dream of spectacles and dentures for all. But instead got on with it, rebuilt its manufacturing base, rebuilt the towns that had been lain to ashes in the process of sulphur-bombing civilians.

A country which is now prosperous, affluent, happy, generous, benign, and can afford to overlook the nasty, dirty griping, the slanderous accusations of Nazism - and of course the resentful foaming at the mouth that "oneself" lives in a derelict hovel of a country where high streets are decaying and empty premises are filled with charity shops, gambling dens and tabel-top bars, where the infrastructure has completely and utterly broken down, where families with a startling number of kids live in tiny, shabby 1940s houses, a population that is the most morbidly obese in Europe, women who dress like Bulgarian prostitutes on a flat-rate contract, and an alcoholism rate which is all the more understandable as living in that run-down hate-filled environment really is a punishment which ought only to be metered out to people who are happy to live in it.

What I Would Do If I Was Still Living in Britain

I was inspired to write this post by an article I read today where a "neighbourhood hit squad" (I'm not keen on the nomenclature!) got so fed up with the fly-tipping and general mess in areas of Leeds which have "poor environmental quality" that they got a skip, moved all the rubbish and rubble, and cleaned the place up.

Perfect - and a classic example of civic pride. Civic pride means: Being concerned about what goes on in your area. It means caring about the fact that the place might be looking like a tip. It means not allowing yobs and drunkards to take over the area and intimidate people. It means making sure a park is a park, and not a haven for drug users. Civic pride does not mean joining your local history society and sitting at home cowering, hoping yobs might leave you in peace. It does not mean being proud of what your community did or did not do in 1942 - whilst being afraid of going out on a Friday night.

Civic pride that translates into direct action is sorely lacking in today's Britain. When I lived in Edinburgh 2 years ago, there was a very icy period in December. Pavements and roads became ice rinks. I was shocked to see that nobody in our neighbourhood (right in the middle of town and an extremely well-to-do do area!) gritted or de-iced the pavement even directly outside their houses, or put salt on their own icy porch. They all preferred to slip on the extremely hazardous ways, rather than do anything at all. "The council should do it" was the consensus. But the council did nothing at all - official reason: It was too dangerous, as the roads were icy (!!!) That was probably when I realized that attitudes really really had to change in the UK.

The lemming-like default muttering of "What d'you want to do about it" is responsible for accepting everything and doing nothing. In other words let the whole shebang deteriorate ever further.Civic pride anyone?

Whenever I'm in England, I have this vision of a huge bottle of Domestos and giving everything a right old scrubbing. For every surface there is grimy, grubby, sticky, dusty, mouldy, greasy, claggy, or just plain dirty. So this is what I would do nowadays if I still lived there: I'd start cleaning. See huge amounts of dirt somewhere? Get a few people together ( a "neighbourhood hit squad") and clean the living daylight out of the place!

The other thing I cannot stand in the UK (and which will probably prevent me from living there again) is the sordidness of the "Friday night culture". Tarts, yobs, vomit, drunkenness, vile behaviour etc etc., we all know the drill. I still remember only too well being too scared and disgusted of ever going out on Friday evening. But why should one cower in one's home and let mob rule take the place over? So this is what  would do: I'd get people together who are similarly fed up with the situation and simply sit in those Friday night hotspots. Normally dressed, and normally behaved - but out in force. See how the yobs and tarts would like that!

Re-claim those town centres! Tidy up rubbish and litter when it fouls up your area! Don't wait for "the council", the "government" etc.  - do something. Do it yourself! Show that you care! Show some civic pride! And don't always go on about patriotism - that won't clear the streets of rubbish, won't tell yobs what's what. But civic pride will.

Supporting Gary McKinnon. A Personal View

I've been involved with the Gary McKinnon case ever since I joined Twitter, i.e. three and a half years. Today, after a decade of suffering for Gary and his family, the Home Secretary, Theresa May, blocked the extradition of Gary to the US, and thereby the subsequent prosecution by a UK citizen in America.

Relief is not the word. I was glued to the screen all morning, and when the announcement finally came- shortly after 12:30 BST, I was elated.  It seemed like the culmination of everything we'd been hoping and fighting for. When I say "we" I'm referring to a pretty diversified group of activists who'd publish tweets in support of Gary, go to demonstrations, lobby MP's, write blog posts and reader's letters to papers and magazines, howl at the news when it was bad - and at times it was very very bad... and lastly, support each other.

It wasn't always an easy journey (of course it was an awful lot worse for Gary and his family!) but I'm writing from the viewpoint of a supporter of the cause. There were bound to be problems, misunderstandings, misgivings, jealousies and rage. We are a very disparate group, as I say - politcally for example, we have little in common. The initial extradition treaty waas still signed by the Labour government with David Blunkett as Home Secretary. Many people felt obliged to hold up their home grown Labour credentials by supporting this decision. Others, from a conservative angle, wielded a political stick and accused Blair/Blunkett of selling out to a foreign nation and giving up British legal sovereignty. The case which should mainly have been one of commiseration for a vulnerable human being, very quickly became politicised.

There were highs and lows. Expectations raised, when Sarah Brown seemed to take on the challenge to present the cause to the Obamas,  and lowered when she failed to do so. Desperation when the unspeakable Alan Johnson, then Home Secretary, pretended he was unable to do anything at all.

Gary's mother, Janis Sharp was in the eye of the storm. Everything clustered around her, she was Gary's voice in the public and the media. Unfailingly polite, patient, generous, warm and nice, Janis managed to acquire a huge followership, Not just amongst the twitterati, but thanks to her career (which she put on hold for the case of her son), high profile people like Judy Styler, Sting, Bob Geldof and others.

I quickly became very fond of Janis and she became a friend, as well as someone I wanted to give support to. When I went through a very difficult period - having to live in Scotland where Iwas totally out of my comfort zone-  Janis was always there, chivyying me on, giving tips, support and even made introductions for me. Later on, I drifted away a bit (not from the cause though) because Janis had to rely on as many people as possible for their support, and sometimes had to make decisions very fast. Thus, the choice of online campaign manager seemed to me very unfortunate. An elderly gent, with few  insights, but many prejudices he wasn't, in my view, the ideal person for such a high-profile case.

As I said, it wasn't always an easy ride -  just like supporting any case wholeheartedly and full-on will never be easy. If everybody cares very much, and we all did and of course still do,  there will always a clash of strategy and procedures. But we never wavered, we struggled on, boats against the current. Caring, writing, arguing, coming together again.

And today, Gary is finally - as was our hashtag - #FreeGary. Time to look back and say what an amazing journey it has been. Time to wish "Best of luck" to Gary, Janis and Wilson - and time to say thank you to all other #freeGary supporters - for their time, their dedication, and unwavering belief in justice.

Britain At war With Itself

The morning of the 12th May when Nick Clegg and David Cameron announced their coalition government dawned grey but became bright and sunny later on. It was difficult not to see it as an omen. Elsewhere, in Scotland, however, the day was inseasonably cold and the Highlands saw a flurry of snow.
Metereology aside, many people will rightly see the new Conservative/Liberal Government as a fresh beginning. The very nature of the press conference- friendly banter in the garden -was designed to contrast with the stark, authoritarian  style of the outgoing Labour administration. A wave to Obama's relaxed style was clearly intended.

Quite apart from the more obvious - and undoubtedly more pressing problems- like the enormous debt crisis,  the trade deficit, the war in Afghanistan, the problem of immigration etc., the Coalition government has its work cut out for itself.

Britain in 2010 is not a happy country - too many divisions, inherent antagonisms, and ideological chasms divide the nation and make it a country that could be described as "being at war with itself".

The most obvious point of contention is the Scotland/England rift - not helped by the election itself, in which the Tories managed to secure only one Scots MP. David Cameron seemed very aware of the problem when his first visit was to Holyrood in what was outwardly an amiable atmosphere. English media were somewhat reluctant however, to dwell on the hostile reception Cameron got in Edinburgh, mainly from students and people dependent on state benefits.

Which brings us to the bitter class divide marring today's Britain. Both Cameron and Clegg with their public school and Oxbridge background may simply not be aware how many Britons are resentful of their shared patrician background. The constant harping- on during the campaign about "Eton-boy Cameron" was an indicator of how the public wasn't prepared to take prisoners (Tony Blair's similarly privileged education had never merited such an epithet). It remains to be seen whether either leader even grasps the acrimony of the conflict, and doesn't just think their affable personalities and non-confrontational ways will diffuse the problem, and placate their enemies.

Also, both Cameron and Clegg will be introducing a more metropolitan and open political approach. Again, that will not just alienate the Celtic fringe, but also Middle England. Suspicion, prejudice and a latent xenophobia undoubtedly present in the Shires, will not take easily to these urbane, multi-lingual gentlemen, one of which even has a foreign wife.

So far, Cameron's promised concept of a "Big Society" hasn't found a resounding echo with either the public at large nor the media, and few could actually come up with a definition (although The Times' leader of May19 tried its hand).

There is a possibility that both Tories and Liberals will be too preoccupied with proving that they're no longer "the nasty parties", i.e. give a lot of PR effort to inclusiveness, anti-homophobia prograns etc- all very virtuous and welcome of course, but not really addressing the underlying civil divisions and inherent differences that have scarred Britain over the last decades.

What this country needs is "political healing", a bridging of the gaping chasms that are class, region, British ethnicity, and the ever-widening gap between rich and poor. Here's hoping that the new Coalition government has it in them to finally create what a previous Prime Minister called "a nation at ease with itself".

It's Not Just the Daily Mail - Hatred and Aggression in Britain

The Daily Mail has today utterly discredited itself with a grotesque story about Nick Clegg and some confused Nazi allusions- the sort of thing one normally gets to hear from very old people suffering from mental failure. The paper is quite clearly beyond contempt, vicious, and intellectually bankrupt.

Now, there is of course a long history of Daily Mail-baiting in this country. I've always thought that if you just wanted to make a few easy friends in the pub, all you need to do is spout something how terrible the Daily Fail is and everybody will nod sagely and buy you a pint. (Well, a half-pint.) I really think it is the ticket to prove that you're quite the intellectual in this country. But that doesn't mean much, does it?

Nick Clegg has recently become popular and therefore had to be slammed down. Hard. Makes sense, innit. But it isn't just Nick Clegg, it isn't just the Daily Mail. This country is awash with hatred and aggression.

I've never heard such frequent wishes of death or grave illness onto somebody who has a different (mostly political) viewpoint. On twitter, you get little old ladies blithely re-tweeting thuggish sentiments about what a shame it is the egg didn't actually hit David Cameron in his smug face. You get women wearing a T-shirt with huge anti-Tory lettering "Step outside, Posh Boy"- just to make a point and really sock it to them. But why in this brutalised, violent way? And the aforementioned old lady? Her frustrated sense of entitlement makes her hate, and I mean hate anybody who's got it better, who has more money, who is "posh".

It's a sociological fact that the more deprived a society is, the more brutal it gets - and that's precisely what's happened to Britain. With its breath-taking level of poverty and deprivation (I've seen quite a few European countries but have never ever come across such levels of abject poverty and decay) there is plenty of scope for class hatred, envy, resentment and bitterness. The callous stupidity of the Thatcher-years together with ten years of Labour mismanagement have seen to it. Now chippyness, inverted snobbery ("I'm from the North, all the best people are", "I'm a university-of lifer, got a problem wiffat you over-educated twit"?) and pride in being bottom are forming a dangerous alliance with pure, unadulterated hatred. Violence is so near, you can smell it.

This is a country where G.Brown's (or J.Prescott's) thuggish and intimidating macho behaviour is preferred to other politicians' - because, well, at least they're not posh, eh? Honest, salt-of-the-earth people like us. Thock. Smack. Hit.

Where mens' fashion ideal is a shaven head, combat trousers and a camouflage top. Nice. Where women's style icon is Katie Price (Source:Press Association, 31 March 2010) And indeed, where a sexually aggressive, ultra-obscene way of dressing (just look around you on the streets of any British town) is deemed accceptable and desirable. There are many forms of aggression, this is one of them. Again, I can assure you that, no - you don't find this everywhere - this is uniquely British.

Another form is the aggressive way people drive, hunched over the wheel of their souped-up cars, they drive straight at pedestrians - why? Because their cars, often cheap, clapped-out ones, make them feel superior and in command. The car as weapon. The "Get-out-of my-way" culture pervades everything. It is in the supermarkets where deprived and frustrated pensioners deliberately ram their trolleys into your thigh, it's in buses where drivers shout at people for the slightest reason, it's everywhere.

Poverty breeds aggression, and it also breeds a grotesque hierarchy. The pathetic driver of a crappy car, the deprived pensioner, the under-paid, irate bus-driver - they are not actually in command, they just use the brief moment of power to let out all their frustrations, hatred,and aggression onto the person who at this moment in time is in the weaker position.

These are not "facts of modern life" - these are the results of an impoverished, deprived society where everybody resents everybody else. Covered by a thin veneer of wry humour and lashings of alcohol (another source of aggression of course).

This is not a country at ease with itself, this is a social war-zone. Dog-eat-dog, and everybody hates everybody else. The clenched fist in the pocket.

2 Addenda:
1. No, this is not "a rant"- the easy label slapped on every uncomfortable truth in this country. These are my considered opinions which I will (in a more linguistically elaborate form) publish elsewhere.
2. Just because I've lived abroad (oooh!) and my name is not spelt M-a-r-g-a-r-e-t, doesn't mean I'm a foreigner - so easily dismissed and patronized.