Introduction
Judging by other writers I’ve met and my own rather peculiar experiences, writing seems to encompass a form of catharsis. The writer is able to externalise sentiments, imbue a character with them and thus look at that feeling objectively. Ultimately, this compels one on an inward odyssey into the good, the bad and the ugly (what greater journey is there?). And in the absence of any tangible god or defining purpose to existence, it can become one’s raison d’être. Hell, it beats psychoanalysis any day with all its kwackery and pet-theories, eh?
What are my influences and why do I write?
‘Influence’ (not to be confused with ‘under the influence’), is axiomatic to any writer though often obscured from the reader. What I mean is, to exist is to be influenced; drawing from the inner and external world through the fluidic and perceptions of six senses (I include intuitiveness). Writing could be seen as an attempt to make sense of things through this amorphous dual point perspective by freeing the imagination to run riot in a virtual world.
On this shifting sand of self-knowledge and worldly insight, an individual is hurled into a tumult of conflicting sentiments. Afterall, experience is interleaved with triumph, tragedy, love and hate etc. In some, this crucible might inflame destructiveness. In others, it compels creativity. Allow me to illustrate this point with an extreme example:
Mr A and Mr B are both unjustly accused of a heinous crime by a most objectionable, bigoted and influential individual. Whilst neither party is guilty of this crime, they’re not able to convince the accuser of their innocence. As a consequence, they suffer the destruction of their reputation through a concerted campaign of hearsay. Both are suitably indignant at this effrontery, but the outcome for each is at complete variance:
Mr A is not a writer (and fears delving into his psyche). He decides to confront his accuser face-to-face. Naturally, this altercation proves futile. Since rumour circumvents both libel and slander laws, there’s no obvious recourse to justice. Inevitably, he becomes consumed by the rage of injustice and his thoughts turn to vengeance. Mr A feels obliged to take the law into his own hands. His subsequent murder trial is, of course, a direct result of his lack of introspection and imagination.
Mr B is a writer. He feels the same sense of injustice with the situation as Mr A. However, this rage against his accuser is tempered with a dispassionate and critical eye. Afterall, this is someone who’s allowed him to plumb depths of human grotesquery and thereby discover truths (even humour) that he might never have glimpsed. He writes feverishly, driven by this startling revelation. Ultimately, he’s grateful to his unwitting muse for exposing this new ‘truth’. Of course, the accuser is far too conceited to recognise himself in Mr B’s writing, but Mr B is nonetheless expunged of hatred. Moreover, he now regards his accuser as being utterly absurd.
And if you think I’m being melodramatic with my example, then consider the Columbine High School massacre in the US. Clearly, these are conjectural outcomes, but I hope they illustrate the radically different ways negative experience can skew people. Many of us have been ridiculed, slandered, betrayed or even demonised at some stage. But it’s how a person channels the anger, the stifled polemic, and even the desire for revenge and that matters. These are forces that can be unleashed in potent acts of creativity. In fact, it could be argued that – for a writer – to suffer is to be inspired. Yunno…don’t bl*ody whinge about it - write about it!
Obviously, this extreme example omits those ‘better angels’ in life such as friendship, compassion and love, which are equally inspirational. There’s certainly no point dwelling on ‘accuser-types’ who regard themselves as moral arbiters and enforcers. Personally, I feel pity for them since they’ve probably never had an original thought in their entire existence and remain blindfolded to themselves and the world by dogma and received ‘wisdom’. In fact, I’m grateful that the world contains these dullards since they represent such a rich seam of comedy. Anyway, I digress…
Returning to a major literary influence of mine, I would like to share with you some inspiring words from Voltaire:
‘A great work must be a novel without being far-fetched; frequently sublime, but always natural. The author must know the human heart, and how to make it speak; he must be a poet, without letting his characters speak like poets; and he must be a master of his language, using it purely and harmoniously and not letting the rhyme interfere with the sense. Whoever fails to observe any one of these conditions…though he may gain public applause with one or two plays, will never be reckoned in the number of good authors.’ (An extract from ‘Candide’).
Not all my influences are quite so highbrow. I think Tom Sharpe deserves a mention since he scrapes away at the veneer of ‘English propriety’ and exposes social division and sexual repression with humour. He also uses a lot of farce. I mean, life’s peppered by misunderstanding and misinterpretation. Comedy (and especially satire) exploits this. It also demonstrates the ultimate fallibility of language.
Feyodor Dostoyevsky is also an influence on my work. When I first read ‘Crime and Punishment’, I was blown away. The reader truly gets inside the head of his characters. Dostoyevsky carefully constructs a scenario where concepts of ‘justice’ are turned on their head. A world where good people suffer, bad people prosper, villains become heroes and the so-called ‘heroes’ are little more than self-serving bureaucrats. Meanwhile an impotent God looks on with indifference at the procession of human misery and injustice. Sadly, I see a lot of truth in this magnificent work. I think Dostoyevsky exposes the human condition like noone else I’ve ever read. It’s a masterpiece and I’d love to have even a fingernail’s worth of his talent!
Developing a narrative style.
As a failed, or as yet, unpublished author, I don’t expect anything that I advocate to be taken as gospel. I simply hope to offer a keyhole into my own creative processes. I’ve mentioned characters and the way that their words might excavate aspects of human nature or even facets of the author. But a plot is also driven by narrative. This amounts to the omnipresent words of the storyteller. With this ‘power’ comes responsibility and an obligation to the reader to reveal the inner workings of characters. For instance, narrative can expose discrepancies between what is said and what is actually meant. It might also (hopefully) provoke introspection in the reader. This is an onerous responsibility for a writer since it’s all too easy to fall into the trap of being preachy or didactic (although blogs are a species apart from this). In my experience, narrative works best if it assumes an ‘amoral’ perspective. It’s up to the reader to discern the ‘morality’ or ‘immorality’ of any particular character based on his or her own particular standpoint.
Personally, what matters more than anything in narrative is ‘neutral truth’. I realise that truth could be seen as subjective or abstract, but I refer to the integrity of a character. Truth involves the author engaging with a character’s mindset and giving him or her a voice that’s unstilted by his own set of values. Moreover, imposing one’s own morality on a character would be disingenuous. Afterall, can’t those patronising sermons and self-eulogising be left to politicians or the clergy…? It’s just unfortunate that political might confers an enormous narrative power and an ability to rewrite history and turn it into some bullsh*t fable. Take Joseph Stalin, for instance – he considered himself a great hero in his diaries. However, Stalin’s crime wasn’t in his storytelling. His felony lay in the falsification of character (himself) and then presenting this as a truth (oh yes, humanity’s fiends prefer to pose as saviours in their own internal narrative…).
Hmm…I’m waffling. Anyway, it’s my belief that the creed of good narrative should aspire to reject theological dogma, received wisdom, political propaganda and even tradition. Paradoxically, it should also unreservedly reject every idea contained within this ridiculous blog entry. Its primary objective remains simple – to excavate ‘neutral truth’.
Realism or Fairy Tale?
I have a confession. The plot for my novel has a ‘happy ending’. I can’t tell you how much this bothers me. It seems, somehow, a betrayal of my somewhat cynical nature. Let’s face it – happy endings are, well, like twee fairytales that contradict empirical evidence suggesting that, invariably, quite the opposite is true. Personally, I can’t say I’ve noticed any universally-prevailing, benevolent system of justice or creator of happy endings. But then, should I be dealing with realism in a work of fiction? Erm, yes it needs to be realistic and credible, but no it’s not real. Even the bad guys in the plot end up confronting their nemesis. That’s not real either. Did Joseph Stalin or any other despot face theirs? I guess that my neutral truth isn’t so neutral afterall. I must be guilty of nurturing hope…
Farewell and chin-chin!
Allow me to leave you with the synopsis of my novel before I loose the bally plot. My next blog will take the form of a rather risqué little number about the perils of modern policing. It’s a fairly dark satire, I’m afraid. Anyway, it’s about time I called for Jeeves since my glass appears to be suffering from ‘premature evaporation’. I only hope that his foreign gentleman caller won’t detain him from his more pressing contractual obligations regarding his employer’s whims...
Have fun and be nice.
Edwin B, x
‘Touching Base’ by Edwin Black ©
A satire, Touching Base tells the story of Winston Grub, an ex-jailbird no-hoper with a nightmare job, an alcohol problem and a penchant for Voltaire. Whilst struggling to make sense of his drink-sozzled existence, he’s tormented by a ghoulish mob of conniving work colleagues who secretly uncover his criminal past.
As Winston sprawls from one calamity to the next, he discovers unlikely allies in a mystic, sexually rapacious flatmate and a drug-addled lover. Despite their counsel, he remains haunted by memories of a…‘crime’ that he’s struggling to reconcile himself to.
However, just when he believes things can’t possibly get worse, an old adversary, Detective Inspector Walton, begins a tireless vendetta to put him back behind bars.
Faced with rabid bigotry, loss of privacy and death threats, Winston grows increasingly indignant as he realises a paradox; he can’t vindicate himself from crimes others are convinced he is yet to commit. As he shadowboxes these unknowns and his life disintegrates, he is driven to perpetrate an outrageous and debased act of revenge. When repercussions follow, his workplace becomes embroiled in scandal, public outcry and litigation.
However, as the police dragnet closes in, Inspector Walton begins to suspect Winston of instigating this odious felony and becomes hell-bent on ensnaring him at any cost - even if this means falsifying evidence.
In an explosive final showdown, overshadowed by accusations of terrorism and sexual perversion, Winston is ultimately compelled to confront his demons. But can he truly embrace those painful home truths and begin the ascent to a better self?
Note:
The events and characters in the Touching Base are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is purely coincidental. Views and opinions expressed therein do not necessarily reflect those of the author. A copy of Chapter 1 is available on request or visit: http://www.oneandother.co.uk/participants/Edwin (chapter within somewhere).
Friday 4 December 2009
Friday 30 October 2009
A cynic’s indispensable guide to gay dating.
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Thursday 22 October 2009
Nick Griffin - Rights over rights and wrongs
Today (22 October 2009), Nick Griffin, leader of the British National Party (BNP) will participate in Question Time on BBC1, despite vociferous opposition from both Government, press and antifascist organisations. Aside from the political ramifications of an extremist reaching a viewing audience of millions, it poses an interesting ethical dilemma - should freedom of speech be afforded to all…even the bigot…? Or should the political elite treat the populous as idiots and (as usual) try to tell us how to think and what to do…?
A shamelessly abridged history on the freedom of speech.
Following the violent upheaval of the French Revolution, in 1789, a turning point took place with the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen. Article 11 stated: ‘The free communication of ideas and opinions is one of the most precious of the rights of man’. Over subsequent centuries, the right to exercise freedom of speech has become synonymous with democracy. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights asserts the ‘right to hold opinions without interference’ and ‘everyone shall have the right to freedom of expression’. A similar ideal is enshrined in Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights. Countless lives have been lost in the protection of this most precious ideal through civil unrest and war. One only has to look at censorship and brutal suppression practices within autocracies to realise just how much of a nightmare free speech evokes in your average despot.
Early proponents of this ideal included John Milton who argued that ‘if the facts are laid bare, truth will defeat falsehood in open competition, but this cannot be left for a single individual to determine’. According to Milton, it is ‘up to each individual to uncover their own truth; no one is wise enough to act as a censor for all individuals’.
A mischievous take on the ascendancy of Nick Griffin
Born in 1959, Nick Griffin was the son of a Conservative MP known to secrete himself (as it were) at the occasional National Front meeting. By fourteen, disillusioned with Enid Blyton, Griffin delved into Mein Kampf. This brief flirtation with the philosophies of a jack-booted jingoist ‘hailed’ a new era for him. At fifteen, instead of spending hours in his bedroom (with a box of Kleenex and a copy of the Freeman’s catalogue), he was seduced by the allure of the National Front. A year later, he is alleged to have played a game of ‘hide the frankfurter’ with its organiser, Martin Webster. If true, the encounter would’ve certainly stood him in good stead for the rigors of campus life at Cambridge University. It was there he discovered new ways of knocking someone about the ring when another latent desire came to the fore in the form of boxing. After graduation, Griffin’s pugilistic instincts returned to politics and the National Front where he launched the imaginatively entitled publication Nationalism Today. This differed in style from the existing Bulldog newsletter with its innovative use of polysyllabic words.
Griffin unleashed his first political blitzkrieg in North West Croydon in Surrey. Hardly the stuff of legend, but not without its irony, since Croydon was heavily bombed by the Nazis in WWII. Much to his bewilderment, he was left scratching his head with only 1.2% of the vote (hmmm…surprising given the multicultural demographics). Unperturbed, he took up the firebrand of white supremacism again in the following year (this time amassing a grand total of 0.9% of the vote). It must have seemed like the only cropped-haired boot-boys in Croydon were those of the gay variety.
The early 1980s were wilderness years for the National Front. Oddly, their dip in membership had an inverse correlation to Margaret Thatcher’s ascendancy (coincidence, I’m sure). In those difficult times, Griffin began to assimilate the ideas of Roberto Fiore (an Italian fascist). From this rich manure of inspiration, Griffin cultivated ideas of a return to feudalism and the establishment of separate nationalist enclaves. In fact, instead of having a swear-box in his office, Griffin regularly imposed a 10p fine on anyone using the words ‘multicultural’ or ‘integrationist’.
By the middle of the 80s Griffin had already heaped praise on a variety of overseas tin-pot tyrants including Colonel Gadaffi and Ayatollah Khomeini. Following a spot of political infighting and getting into bed with Roberto Fiore (figuratively speaking), he left the National Front and formed the ‘International Third Position’. As yet, I haven’t discovered which position he assumed, but I can only hope he wasn’t expected to be the passive partner for those in the first and second positions.
In 1990, Griffin suffered a tragic accident and lost an eye, leaving him unable to work. Subsequently, he was forced to declare himself bankrupt and avoided politics for a few years. However in 1993, he again slipped back into the body politic, joining the British National Party.
Griffin proved pivotal in making his party more electable by abandoning forced repatriation of immigrants and pandering to populist, rabble-rousing tabloid causes e.g. capital punishment for paedophiles, rapists, drug dealers and murderers. The shift attracted moderate numbers of votes in places like Oldham West and Royton. Eventually, his dogged perseverance paid off and he was elected as a member of the European Parliament for North West England in 2009.
Nick Griffin isn’t simply a man with strong political convictions. He’s been hauled before the beak on more than one occasion. Maybe he’s got a thing about wigs? So far his brushes with the law have been non-custodial.
In conclusion
Whatever the majority think about Nick Griffin, I would suggest that eroding free speech is too greater price to pay simply to gag the unpalatable opinions of a minority by legislation. Besides which, Nick Griffin and his cronies are bound by existing hate crime laws; Public Order Act 1986, Part III Incitement to Racial Hatred, Racial and Religious Hatred Act 2006 etc. Moreover, on his present trajectory, it seems altogether possible that the man may experience a different style of ‘gagging order’ under the auspices of HMP Brixton. A brief sojourn at Her Majesty’s pleasure may open him up to new and exciting possibilities from the multicultural inmate population. He may even be obliged to take some of their points on board? [lucky thing, eh?].
Despite the dangerously seductive allure of his Griffin’s ideas, debate might make them subject to dispassionate, critical analysis rather than the whims of an egg-lobbing rabble, or worse, politically expedient censorship. Don’t our hard-fought rights of free speech far outweigh individual rights and wrongs?
Hugs all round,
Edwin B.
Quotes of the day:
“Think for yourselves and let others enjoy the privilege to do so too.”
Voltaire.
“The British National Party is a legal, political entity. It has a right in a democratic society to put forward ideas and policies which some might find uncomfortable and some might find even offensive. There has been a tendency in this case to over-analyse speeches, to take one line here and one line there. You have got to look at the overall impact of these speeches - remember the context of each speech.”
Timothy King QC
Footnote:
Despite Timothy King QC’s sage advice, I’ve listed some of our Nick’s more delectable quotes for your squeamish delight, (my apologies for going ‘tabloid journalist’ and taking them out of context).
On the Holocaust:
“I am well aware that the orthodox opinion is that six million Jews were gassed and cremated and turned into lampshades. Orthodox opinion also once held that the world is flat.”
On the bombing of the Admiral Duncan pub by ex-BNP member David Copeland:
“The TV footage of dozens of gay demonstrators flaunting their perversion in front of the world’s journalists showed just why so many ordinary people find these creatures so repulsive.”
On what radical Muslim clerics wish for:
“... militant Muslims to take over British cities with AK-47 rifles.”
On green issues:
“Global warming is essentially a hoax.”
A shamelessly abridged history on the freedom of speech.
Following the violent upheaval of the French Revolution, in 1789, a turning point took place with the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen. Article 11 stated: ‘The free communication of ideas and opinions is one of the most precious of the rights of man’. Over subsequent centuries, the right to exercise freedom of speech has become synonymous with democracy. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights asserts the ‘right to hold opinions without interference’ and ‘everyone shall have the right to freedom of expression’. A similar ideal is enshrined in Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights. Countless lives have been lost in the protection of this most precious ideal through civil unrest and war. One only has to look at censorship and brutal suppression practices within autocracies to realise just how much of a nightmare free speech evokes in your average despot.
Early proponents of this ideal included John Milton who argued that ‘if the facts are laid bare, truth will defeat falsehood in open competition, but this cannot be left for a single individual to determine’. According to Milton, it is ‘up to each individual to uncover their own truth; no one is wise enough to act as a censor for all individuals’.
A mischievous take on the ascendancy of Nick Griffin
Born in 1959, Nick Griffin was the son of a Conservative MP known to secrete himself (as it were) at the occasional National Front meeting. By fourteen, disillusioned with Enid Blyton, Griffin delved into Mein Kampf. This brief flirtation with the philosophies of a jack-booted jingoist ‘hailed’ a new era for him. At fifteen, instead of spending hours in his bedroom (with a box of Kleenex and a copy of the Freeman’s catalogue), he was seduced by the allure of the National Front. A year later, he is alleged to have played a game of ‘hide the frankfurter’ with its organiser, Martin Webster. If true, the encounter would’ve certainly stood him in good stead for the rigors of campus life at Cambridge University. It was there he discovered new ways of knocking someone about the ring when another latent desire came to the fore in the form of boxing. After graduation, Griffin’s pugilistic instincts returned to politics and the National Front where he launched the imaginatively entitled publication Nationalism Today. This differed in style from the existing Bulldog newsletter with its innovative use of polysyllabic words.
Griffin unleashed his first political blitzkrieg in North West Croydon in Surrey. Hardly the stuff of legend, but not without its irony, since Croydon was heavily bombed by the Nazis in WWII. Much to his bewilderment, he was left scratching his head with only 1.2% of the vote (hmmm…surprising given the multicultural demographics). Unperturbed, he took up the firebrand of white supremacism again in the following year (this time amassing a grand total of 0.9% of the vote). It must have seemed like the only cropped-haired boot-boys in Croydon were those of the gay variety.
The early 1980s were wilderness years for the National Front. Oddly, their dip in membership had an inverse correlation to Margaret Thatcher’s ascendancy (coincidence, I’m sure). In those difficult times, Griffin began to assimilate the ideas of Roberto Fiore (an Italian fascist). From this rich manure of inspiration, Griffin cultivated ideas of a return to feudalism and the establishment of separate nationalist enclaves. In fact, instead of having a swear-box in his office, Griffin regularly imposed a 10p fine on anyone using the words ‘multicultural’ or ‘integrationist’.
By the middle of the 80s Griffin had already heaped praise on a variety of overseas tin-pot tyrants including Colonel Gadaffi and Ayatollah Khomeini. Following a spot of political infighting and getting into bed with Roberto Fiore (figuratively speaking), he left the National Front and formed the ‘International Third Position’. As yet, I haven’t discovered which position he assumed, but I can only hope he wasn’t expected to be the passive partner for those in the first and second positions.
In 1990, Griffin suffered a tragic accident and lost an eye, leaving him unable to work. Subsequently, he was forced to declare himself bankrupt and avoided politics for a few years. However in 1993, he again slipped back into the body politic, joining the British National Party.
Griffin proved pivotal in making his party more electable by abandoning forced repatriation of immigrants and pandering to populist, rabble-rousing tabloid causes e.g. capital punishment for paedophiles, rapists, drug dealers and murderers. The shift attracted moderate numbers of votes in places like Oldham West and Royton. Eventually, his dogged perseverance paid off and he was elected as a member of the European Parliament for North West England in 2009.
Nick Griffin isn’t simply a man with strong political convictions. He’s been hauled before the beak on more than one occasion. Maybe he’s got a thing about wigs? So far his brushes with the law have been non-custodial.
In conclusion
Whatever the majority think about Nick Griffin, I would suggest that eroding free speech is too greater price to pay simply to gag the unpalatable opinions of a minority by legislation. Besides which, Nick Griffin and his cronies are bound by existing hate crime laws; Public Order Act 1986, Part III Incitement to Racial Hatred, Racial and Religious Hatred Act 2006 etc. Moreover, on his present trajectory, it seems altogether possible that the man may experience a different style of ‘gagging order’ under the auspices of HMP Brixton. A brief sojourn at Her Majesty’s pleasure may open him up to new and exciting possibilities from the multicultural inmate population. He may even be obliged to take some of their points on board? [lucky thing, eh?].
Despite the dangerously seductive allure of his Griffin’s ideas, debate might make them subject to dispassionate, critical analysis rather than the whims of an egg-lobbing rabble, or worse, politically expedient censorship. Don’t our hard-fought rights of free speech far outweigh individual rights and wrongs?
Hugs all round,
Edwin B.
Quotes of the day:
“Think for yourselves and let others enjoy the privilege to do so too.”
Voltaire.
“The British National Party is a legal, political entity. It has a right in a democratic society to put forward ideas and policies which some might find uncomfortable and some might find even offensive. There has been a tendency in this case to over-analyse speeches, to take one line here and one line there. You have got to look at the overall impact of these speeches - remember the context of each speech.”
Timothy King QC
Footnote:
Despite Timothy King QC’s sage advice, I’ve listed some of our Nick’s more delectable quotes for your squeamish delight, (my apologies for going ‘tabloid journalist’ and taking them out of context).
On the Holocaust:
“I am well aware that the orthodox opinion is that six million Jews were gassed and cremated and turned into lampshades. Orthodox opinion also once held that the world is flat.”
On the bombing of the Admiral Duncan pub by ex-BNP member David Copeland:
“The TV footage of dozens of gay demonstrators flaunting their perversion in front of the world’s journalists showed just why so many ordinary people find these creatures so repulsive.”
On what radical Muslim clerics wish for:
“... militant Muslims to take over British cities with AK-47 rifles.”
On green issues:
“Global warming is essentially a hoax.”
Saturday 17 October 2009
Censorship, heroes and gun culture.
On the broad theme of censorship, I’m often baffled by its pervading double standards, particularly in American cinema. As I’m sure you’re aware, this all-encompassing medium envelops much of the known universe.
Interestingly, ultra-violence isn’t just tolerated but appears to be celebrated - whereas sex is so often merely alluded to. This begs the question that if sex is so intolerable, why is violence considered any less corrupting? To what extent are the malleable hearts and minds of young people adversely influenced by onscreen violence?
I looked at homicide rates in the US. In 2007 alone, 10,086 citizens were murdered by firearm-wielding sociopaths. That’s almost equivalent to the entire population of Henley-on-Thames in Oxfordshire (or Milwaukee in the US). Surely this orgy of bloodletting makes a lusty romp on the silver screen look like a vicar’s tea party?
So how did the gun become so embedded in the brooding collective psyche of American (and increasingly English) culture? I don’t think it would be an enormous feat of deduction to point the finger of suspicion at film, television and certain types of urban music.
Take ‘westerns’, for instance. Cowboys are so often portrayed the ‘heroes’ of the piece. But if you suspend belief for a moment…if you ignore the macho posturing and rousing, brassy music, what are you left with? Essentially, gun-toting cow farmers who’ve invaded a foreign land in order to plunder its natural resources and massacre the primitive indigenous peoples. In another context, could this not be viewed as genocide? Are these really the kind of ‘role-models’, ‘heroes’ or ‘templates’ western civilisation needs to place on a pedestal? Hmmm, I wonder…?
I was recently ‘spammed’ a new release from an urban music label that I’ll refrain from naming (for legal reasons). The album cover featured a sneering rapper aiming a smoking gun at the onlooker. The photo was taken from ground level, i.e. the angle of someone who’d be on the sprawled on he ground with the ‘iconic’ gun looming large in the foreground. I can’t comment on the music since I’m more of a Chet Baker fan myself, but as an image, I found it chilling. What might a more impressionable person make of it I wondered? Does the gun have some Freudian significance perhaps…? Yunno…compensation for a bit of a peashooter in the underpants department?
Am I arguing for censorship of violence you may ask? No. At least I don’t think I am. I’m posing a question; why can’t more movies reflect the full gamut of human experience (like French cinema) rather than obsess over some phallo-centric weapon envy? I’m suggesting that, though violence is sadly part of life, it is only a part of life’s rich (and somewhat bloodstained) tapestry. Filmmakers might do well to consider this. There are cinemagoers that hope for a less violent, more humane and better-enlightened world where the more sublime aspects of human nature are portrayed. The real heroes, celebrated or unsung are still out there aren’t they?
Okay, rant over. As for me, I think it must be cocktail hour by now. In the next steaming dollop of rot, I’ll talk about my influences in writing (don’t yawn). Have fun and try to be nice, eh?
Tears of Liberty (a sonnet).
Shall I compare thee to a mad tempest?
An icon more pitiless than death row:
A storm that rips child from a mother’s breast.
In the hail of bullets, what hope may grow?
In brutal cultures, gun and gang obsessed:
False prophets, parade as gangster heroes.
Though death’s chill hand reaps bitter harvest,
The cult of the firearm never slows.
A ‘right to bare arms’ - lobbyists protest:
Guarding this rite, politicians in tow.
If this were the ‘freedom’ they would suggest:
Go tell the victim…the grieving widow.
A mother’s tears upon a blood red sea:
Figurehead of a nation, Liberty.
© Edwin Black
(Apologies for the dodgy iambic pentameter...).
Thanks for reading.
Edwin B.
Interestingly, ultra-violence isn’t just tolerated but appears to be celebrated - whereas sex is so often merely alluded to. This begs the question that if sex is so intolerable, why is violence considered any less corrupting? To what extent are the malleable hearts and minds of young people adversely influenced by onscreen violence?
I looked at homicide rates in the US. In 2007 alone, 10,086 citizens were murdered by firearm-wielding sociopaths. That’s almost equivalent to the entire population of Henley-on-Thames in Oxfordshire (or Milwaukee in the US). Surely this orgy of bloodletting makes a lusty romp on the silver screen look like a vicar’s tea party?
So how did the gun become so embedded in the brooding collective psyche of American (and increasingly English) culture? I don’t think it would be an enormous feat of deduction to point the finger of suspicion at film, television and certain types of urban music.
Take ‘westerns’, for instance. Cowboys are so often portrayed the ‘heroes’ of the piece. But if you suspend belief for a moment…if you ignore the macho posturing and rousing, brassy music, what are you left with? Essentially, gun-toting cow farmers who’ve invaded a foreign land in order to plunder its natural resources and massacre the primitive indigenous peoples. In another context, could this not be viewed as genocide? Are these really the kind of ‘role-models’, ‘heroes’ or ‘templates’ western civilisation needs to place on a pedestal? Hmmm, I wonder…?
I was recently ‘spammed’ a new release from an urban music label that I’ll refrain from naming (for legal reasons). The album cover featured a sneering rapper aiming a smoking gun at the onlooker. The photo was taken from ground level, i.e. the angle of someone who’d be on the sprawled on he ground with the ‘iconic’ gun looming large in the foreground. I can’t comment on the music since I’m more of a Chet Baker fan myself, but as an image, I found it chilling. What might a more impressionable person make of it I wondered? Does the gun have some Freudian significance perhaps…? Yunno…compensation for a bit of a peashooter in the underpants department?
Am I arguing for censorship of violence you may ask? No. At least I don’t think I am. I’m posing a question; why can’t more movies reflect the full gamut of human experience (like French cinema) rather than obsess over some phallo-centric weapon envy? I’m suggesting that, though violence is sadly part of life, it is only a part of life’s rich (and somewhat bloodstained) tapestry. Filmmakers might do well to consider this. There are cinemagoers that hope for a less violent, more humane and better-enlightened world where the more sublime aspects of human nature are portrayed. The real heroes, celebrated or unsung are still out there aren’t they?
Okay, rant over. As for me, I think it must be cocktail hour by now. In the next steaming dollop of rot, I’ll talk about my influences in writing (don’t yawn). Have fun and try to be nice, eh?
Tears of Liberty (a sonnet).
Shall I compare thee to a mad tempest?
An icon more pitiless than death row:
A storm that rips child from a mother’s breast.
In the hail of bullets, what hope may grow?
In brutal cultures, gun and gang obsessed:
False prophets, parade as gangster heroes.
Though death’s chill hand reaps bitter harvest,
The cult of the firearm never slows.
A ‘right to bare arms’ - lobbyists protest:
Guarding this rite, politicians in tow.
If this were the ‘freedom’ they would suggest:
Go tell the victim…the grieving widow.
A mother’s tears upon a blood red sea:
Figurehead of a nation, Liberty.
© Edwin Black
(Apologies for the dodgy iambic pentameter...).
Thanks for reading.
Edwin B.
Freedom of speech and rights of self-expression
The Freeword Centre event (mentioned previously) was an interesting colonoscopy into those tight-arses who make it their life’s ambition to be offended - particularly by satire. Yes, it’s unethical to stereotype on the grounds of race, creed, culture, disability, etc. Even poor old Edwin B., has fallen prey to these sweeping generalisations and lazy thinking regarding identity.
However, I’m referring rather to the notion that an ideology or culture at large should be considered out-of-bounds to legitimate comment, criticism or good-natured spoofing simply because its ‘leaders’ claim that this causes ‘offence’. Offence eh? To whom I wonder? Isn’t there a difference between being personally offended and being collectively preached at to take offence? Why do these so-called ‘pillars of the community’ seem so intent on fermenting division, I ask myself? Could it be down to some gluttonous desire for power and a Machiavellian agenda possibly…hmm? After all, what better way to consolidate power within ones own particular ‘community’ than by conjuring up the spectre of ‘otherness’?
Admittedly, this sense of ‘us and them’ has been exacerbated by decades of overt racism, ill-conceived interventionist foreign policy and mischief making on the part of a tabloid press. However, Surely, once a (so-called) western liberal democracy muzzles free speech by curtailing the right to ask salient questions and engage in gentlemanly debate, it’s heading up sh*t creek, right? Moreover, what about the rights of an individual express personal or creative freedom without some deranged demagogue compelling his flock to commit acts of oppression or violence against them? If I can paraphrase one of the speakers (a satirical cartoonist):
‘Yes, rightly or wrongly, I’ve caused ‘offence’, but isn’t it infinitely more offensive to receive death threats over a f*cking cartoon?”
Doubtless, certain quarters of the media have been fanning the flames of discord by selectively ignoring liberal minded and less radicalised sections of our multi-culture and disproportionately focussing on fanatics. I wonder if the conscience of these disreputable old hacks is ever pricked by the notion that their ranting editorials (cleverly disguised as ‘news’) is fuelling division rather than encouraging social cohesion and inclusiveness. Why on earth can’t they stick to what they do best i.e. muck-raking celebrities’ private lives and hacking into their mobile phones? I guess that so many of us just love those screaming, shock-horror headlines. It seems that some folks simply want to be offended so they can clamber back onto their moral ‘high horse’ and look down on those lesser mortals.
Unfortunately, I’m prehistoric enough to remember the furore over the release of the film Life of Brian in 1979. In my opinion, one of the funniest films ever made (with the possible exception of Withnail and I). The release of this film triggered worldwide protests and many zealous local councils (such as Harrogate and Torbay) actually banned the film. The torrent of ‘Python-bashing’ culminated with an interview on Friday Night, Saturday Morning (a BBC2 chat show). John Cleese and Michael Palin were pitted against Malcolm Muggeridge (a devoutly Christian broadcaster) and Mervyn Stockwood (the Bishop of Southwark) who sported a cross large enough to crucify an average sized guinea pig.
It has to be said that the debate was far from gentlemanly as the cassocked-crusader set about lambasting the Python pair with accusations that Life of Brian was ‘morally without merit and undeniably reprehensible!’ As this televisual torment degenerated into farce, John Cleese exclaimed ‘Three hundred years ago, if we’d said what we are saying in this film, we would have been burnt at the stake. Now, I’m suggesting that we’ve made some kind of an advance.’ Overall, the Pythons appeared remarkably composed under the bombardment. Maybe they thought it would be in poor taste to begin ‘bashing the bishop’ in public, eh? [smirk].
But I wonder how much offence was actually caused? More saliently, I’m curious how many of these protesters (if any) actually watched the offending item? Wasn’t this whole uproar simply another example of religious leaders and local politicians telling people how to think and what to do? Don’t the vast cognitive powers of the human brain deserve to be exercised sometimes and a person be left alone to make up their own bloody mind? Apparently not. It seems theocrats and bureaucrats the world over would prefer us to behave like mindless obedient automatons. It’s richly ironic that this kind of unthinking mob mentality was actually the kind of behaviour the film sought to parody. (Who can forget the scene where the rock-lobbing rabble is shouting ‘blasphemy!… blasphemy!…’). I used to think Christian references to ‘shepherds’/‘sheep’ and ones ‘flock’ were figurative. Now I’m beginning to wonder if they weren’t intended literally since their behaviour so often mimics that of sheep.
Oh it’s all a load of b*llocks if you ask me. Maybe Voltaire was right in his assertion that the dark heart of human nature has never and will never change? Perhaps we all need to lighten up a bit and learn to get along, eh? I mean life’s too short, for Christ’s sakes. What a nice world it would be if everyone began to explore commonality, treat politicians and religious leaders with the suspicion they so richly deserve and laugh at ourselves from time to time?
Anyway, I’ll postpone my denunciation of ‘heroes’ until the next blog entry. I’ll also share my thoughts on censorship. I believe it’s now time to top up my alcohol levels, which are currently running dangerously low. For further reading on todays sermon, allow me to recommend ‘Freedom of speech versus blasphemy’ on the Wikipedia.
Until next time, take care folks,
Edwin B.
In keeping with the theme of free speech and offence, here’s a short story (uncensored):
Guilty?
“Your honour, members of the Jury, the plaintive stands accused of ‘corporate manslaughter’. I intend to prove to you, beyond all reasonable doubt, that he did, by omission, commit acts of criminal negligence and thus seriously endanger millions of lives. I mean to demonstrate that, at no time, did he take measures to prevent this or any prior disaster during his directorship. Furthermore, I submit that there is damning and incontrovertible evidence that the accused is culpable for a consistent and endemic failure within his organisation to provide even a basic duty of care. I contend that, not only did he fail to honour service agreements, but he exhibited a flagrant disregard for public safety.”
As the prosecution lawyer sat down, the judge stared across from his podium, eyeing the accused gravely.
“How do you wish to plead, God?”
There was a lengthy silence.
“Guilty।”
© Edwin Black
However, I’m referring rather to the notion that an ideology or culture at large should be considered out-of-bounds to legitimate comment, criticism or good-natured spoofing simply because its ‘leaders’ claim that this causes ‘offence’. Offence eh? To whom I wonder? Isn’t there a difference between being personally offended and being collectively preached at to take offence? Why do these so-called ‘pillars of the community’ seem so intent on fermenting division, I ask myself? Could it be down to some gluttonous desire for power and a Machiavellian agenda possibly…hmm? After all, what better way to consolidate power within ones own particular ‘community’ than by conjuring up the spectre of ‘otherness’?
Admittedly, this sense of ‘us and them’ has been exacerbated by decades of overt racism, ill-conceived interventionist foreign policy and mischief making on the part of a tabloid press. However, Surely, once a (so-called) western liberal democracy muzzles free speech by curtailing the right to ask salient questions and engage in gentlemanly debate, it’s heading up sh*t creek, right? Moreover, what about the rights of an individual express personal or creative freedom without some deranged demagogue compelling his flock to commit acts of oppression or violence against them? If I can paraphrase one of the speakers (a satirical cartoonist):
‘Yes, rightly or wrongly, I’ve caused ‘offence’, but isn’t it infinitely more offensive to receive death threats over a f*cking cartoon?”
Doubtless, certain quarters of the media have been fanning the flames of discord by selectively ignoring liberal minded and less radicalised sections of our multi-culture and disproportionately focussing on fanatics. I wonder if the conscience of these disreputable old hacks is ever pricked by the notion that their ranting editorials (cleverly disguised as ‘news’) is fuelling division rather than encouraging social cohesion and inclusiveness. Why on earth can’t they stick to what they do best i.e. muck-raking celebrities’ private lives and hacking into their mobile phones? I guess that so many of us just love those screaming, shock-horror headlines. It seems that some folks simply want to be offended so they can clamber back onto their moral ‘high horse’ and look down on those lesser mortals.
Unfortunately, I’m prehistoric enough to remember the furore over the release of the film Life of Brian in 1979. In my opinion, one of the funniest films ever made (with the possible exception of Withnail and I). The release of this film triggered worldwide protests and many zealous local councils (such as Harrogate and Torbay) actually banned the film. The torrent of ‘Python-bashing’ culminated with an interview on Friday Night, Saturday Morning (a BBC2 chat show). John Cleese and Michael Palin were pitted against Malcolm Muggeridge (a devoutly Christian broadcaster) and Mervyn Stockwood (the Bishop of Southwark) who sported a cross large enough to crucify an average sized guinea pig.
It has to be said that the debate was far from gentlemanly as the cassocked-crusader set about lambasting the Python pair with accusations that Life of Brian was ‘morally without merit and undeniably reprehensible!’ As this televisual torment degenerated into farce, John Cleese exclaimed ‘Three hundred years ago, if we’d said what we are saying in this film, we would have been burnt at the stake. Now, I’m suggesting that we’ve made some kind of an advance.’ Overall, the Pythons appeared remarkably composed under the bombardment. Maybe they thought it would be in poor taste to begin ‘bashing the bishop’ in public, eh? [smirk].
But I wonder how much offence was actually caused? More saliently, I’m curious how many of these protesters (if any) actually watched the offending item? Wasn’t this whole uproar simply another example of religious leaders and local politicians telling people how to think and what to do? Don’t the vast cognitive powers of the human brain deserve to be exercised sometimes and a person be left alone to make up their own bloody mind? Apparently not. It seems theocrats and bureaucrats the world over would prefer us to behave like mindless obedient automatons. It’s richly ironic that this kind of unthinking mob mentality was actually the kind of behaviour the film sought to parody. (Who can forget the scene where the rock-lobbing rabble is shouting ‘blasphemy!… blasphemy!…’). I used to think Christian references to ‘shepherds’/‘sheep’ and ones ‘flock’ were figurative. Now I’m beginning to wonder if they weren’t intended literally since their behaviour so often mimics that of sheep.
Oh it’s all a load of b*llocks if you ask me. Maybe Voltaire was right in his assertion that the dark heart of human nature has never and will never change? Perhaps we all need to lighten up a bit and learn to get along, eh? I mean life’s too short, for Christ’s sakes. What a nice world it would be if everyone began to explore commonality, treat politicians and religious leaders with the suspicion they so richly deserve and laugh at ourselves from time to time?
Anyway, I’ll postpone my denunciation of ‘heroes’ until the next blog entry. I’ll also share my thoughts on censorship. I believe it’s now time to top up my alcohol levels, which are currently running dangerously low. For further reading on todays sermon, allow me to recommend ‘Freedom of speech versus blasphemy’ on the Wikipedia.
Until next time, take care folks,
Edwin B.
In keeping with the theme of free speech and offence, here’s a short story (uncensored):
Guilty?
“Your honour, members of the Jury, the plaintive stands accused of ‘corporate manslaughter’. I intend to prove to you, beyond all reasonable doubt, that he did, by omission, commit acts of criminal negligence and thus seriously endanger millions of lives. I mean to demonstrate that, at no time, did he take measures to prevent this or any prior disaster during his directorship. Furthermore, I submit that there is damning and incontrovertible evidence that the accused is culpable for a consistent and endemic failure within his organisation to provide even a basic duty of care. I contend that, not only did he fail to honour service agreements, but he exhibited a flagrant disregard for public safety.”
As the prosecution lawyer sat down, the judge stared across from his podium, eyeing the accused gravely.
“How do you wish to plead, God?”
There was a lengthy silence.
“Guilty।”
© Edwin Black
Friday 9 October 2009
About this blog
This blog is an adult only space and contains material that some may find offensive. ‘Edwin Black’ is the fictitious and monstrous creation of a mischievous satirist who prefers to remain anonymous (for legal reasons). Blogging (not to be confused with dogging) in character seemed the greater act of honesty.
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