Relax... and happy International Women's Day

Greetings, humans! Before you I come once again to grace your visual processors with more of my incomparable wisdom and ineffable genius. And as soon as I acquire said properties I shall get all up in that.

So, it's the 8th of March 2017, a day we have earmarked as International Women's Day (seriously, it's in the title. Surely you knew where this was going). That today is also my son's birthday is mere coincidence.  But aside from the inevitable and hilarious Deadpool memes...

You're welcome.

...there's much more to this event than whips, bondage and pegging.

Today is an occasion for us to remember and celebrate the myriad accomplishments and achievements of women throughout the world and across history, often against the backdrop of difficult, sometimes near insurmountable odds.  From struggling single mothers to scientists to athletes to political leaders, there is no point in which women have not played a major role in shaping and reshaping the landscape of this world.

✤✤✤✤✤

Take Margaret Hamilton. A background in abstract mathematics led to her developing weather prediction software at MIT at Project MAC, before she moved on to the SAGE Project, which created simulations of weather systems and predict their movements. Her success on this project would eventually lead her to NASA's Apollo program, where she led the team which developed flight software for the command module, lunar lander, and later the Skylab. This software would eventually be used to land Apollo 11 on the moon after computer errors nearly aborted the mission 3 minutes from the lunar surface.

Hamilton's work on the Apollo project would earn her a nomination for the NASA Space Act Award. She is credited with coining the term "software engineering". She was one of the pioneers of women entering the male-dominated STEM industries And in 2016, her accomplishments were recognised by Barack Obama, who awarded her the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the US's highest civilian honour.

✤✤✤✤✤

More recently, we have a woman for who I personally harbour a great deal of respect and admiration. Malala Yousafzai grew up in Pakistan's Swat Valley during its occupation by the Taliban. She blogged for BBC Urdu in early 2009, before becoming a prominent advocate for female education.

Then, on 9th October 2012, a Taliban gunman shot Yousafzai on her way home from an exam. The news quickly spread globally, even as surgeons worldwide raced to save her life.

The aftermath saw Pakistan ratify the Right To Education Bill in late 2012, guaranteeing education for all children.  World leaders, celebrities, religious leaders and many more voiced their support for Malala, and condemnation for the Taliban. After her recovery, she met Queen Elizabeth II at Buckingham Palace, spoke at the United Nations and Harvard, and gained an audience with then-US President Barack Obama.  The Malala Fund was created to continue striving for education for all children worldwide.  And in 2014, Yousafzai was named co-recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize with Kailash Satyarthi - making her the youngest person to win a Nobel Prize in any discipline.

✤✤✤✤✤

I really wish I could write a lot more, both on the iconic women above and on hundreds of others. There's Marie Curie, renowned for her work on radioactivity as well as in the fight against cancer, after whom the Marie Curie cancer charity is named.  Or Rosa Parks, whose simple refusal to give up her bus seat to a white man became the catalyst for civil rights movements nationwide, and also influenced Martin Luther King, Jr.

In music, there are women such as Billie Holiday, who powerful and expressive voice helped redefine jazz and blues in the 20th century.  Madonna is, as of this writing, the most successful female musician of all time, and no stranger to controversy, pushing the boundaries of music, gender, and sexuality frequently. She is a principal player in redefining the role of women in pop culture and in general.

On stage and screen, Emma Watson has grown from the frizzy-haired young witch in Harry Potter to become a successful actress, as well as a model, and a prominent feminist, appointed by the UN as a Goodwill Ambassador for Women.  Meanwhile Angelina Jolie is one of the leading lights of Hollywood, with an extensive library of box office hits to her credit, while also serving as a recognised humanitarian, having worked with the UNHCR as a Goodwill Ambassador, as well as contributing to environmental, conservationist, and child welfare issues.

This paltry article doesn't even scratch the surface of the massive contributions made by women, even in the last few decades, let alone throughout humanity's history.  From Cleopatra to Christina Ricci; from Joan of Arc to Joan Armatrading; from Queen Victoria to Tori Amos; Lady GaGa; Laverne Cox; A.J. Lee; Boadicea; Eleanor Roosevelt - the list is seemingly endless.  I strongly urge you to look up the women I've named here today, and many more besides.

Who knows? Maybe one day it'll be our daughters who change the world.

As always, feel free to leave your comments. And if you've liked my little bit of blog, give me a +1 and tell your friends.

Much love to you all.
4L

Allan H.

Emma Watson's Tits, or: Why Feminism and Sex are not Mutually Exclusive

Greetings, fair denizens of teh interwebz. It's been far longer than a while since I put finger to keyboard and wrote anything for you, the discerning reader, and for this, I offer my apologies. But fret ye not, for my poorly researched, half-arsed reactionary musings on the world at large have yet to be abandoned, even if it's mostly me talking to myself alone in my flat - I really should write this shit down more often.

So, what's this entry into the blogospere about? Well, in case the catchy title didn't immediately tip you off, it's about Emma Watson's tits.  More specifically, it's about a photo shoot for Vanity Fair that included this picture:

Emma Watson in Vanity Fair, March 2017.
Photo: Tim Walker. Stylist: Jessica Diehl

The image, captured by Tim Walker and styled by Jessica Diehl, depicts Watson in an all-white outfit designed by Burberry (for whom she models). And apparently of note is not the elegance of the design, nor the subtle beauty of the image or her make-up.  Nope, it's the fact that she's not wearing anything under her top.  That's right folks, Emma Watson, the prominent and outspoken feminist, done got her boobies out!

Not long after the article's publication, the Sun opted to emblazon the above photo with the headline "Beauty & the breasts", and a brief passage about how topless she is under her stole, and how she doesn't talk about her boyfriend.  Oh yeah, and something about a film she's in.  Well, talkRADIO presenter Julia Hartley-Brewer was having none of it:

Emma Watson: "Feminism, feminism... gender wage gap... why oh why am I not taken seriously... feminism... oh, and here are my tits!" pic.twitter.com/gb7OvxzRH9

— Julia Hartley-Brewer (@JuliaHB1) March 1, 2017

OK folks, I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in reading Hartley-Brewer's tweet and wondering what side of the bed she crawled out of that day. But here's the thing: Emma Watson, like Scarlett Johansson, Gal Gadot, Celine Dion, Dot Cotton, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, and I'm pretty certain Julia Hartley-Brewer herself, has something in common with every other woman on the planet: boobs.

As mammals, the female of our species is provided with mammary glands that produce a lactic secretion known as milk, which is used for the nourishment of our young.  Due to their general shape, the conglomeration of nerves that provide an often pleasing sensation to the bearer of said breasts, and probably some Freudian connotation, we have also applied a sensual, erotic meaning to breasts.

Now, I'll freely state that I love boobs. Both as targets of desire and in an aesthetic sense, breasts are lovely. But the presence of breasts in a photograph does not invalidate the art in the picture, nor the woman bearing them.  There is - or at least, should be to the reasonable mind - a clear delineation between breasts as the providers of infant nourishment, breasts in a pornographic context, and breasts as part of a woman's body in the context of artistic expression.  And in all contexts, the overriding factor is, and should always be, the woman's right to decide.  And this is the keystone of feminism.

I firmly believe that a woman has the right to be whatever she chooses to be, much as I do for all people. And this seems to be difficult for some people to grasp. Now, I'm not fool enough to think that Watson's not being sexualised by some - the mere fact that she's a woman, let alone has boobs, is enough for some people to lech over.  But I do consider myself intelligent enough to know the difference between a woman using her body as a medium of artistic expression, and a woman getting her tits out for sexual gratification.  I have no problem with a woman being a sexual being, whether it's being sexually active, doing webcam shows or performing in porn - as long as that is her informed choice.  Equally, I see no reason to object to a woman who chooses to use her body as a means to portray an artistic, creative image, whether she be modelling haute couture, performing a dance routine, or expressing confidence and strength in her body and mind.

My understanding of feminism is constantly evolving as new information comes to me. But a woman's choice is, to my mind, the paramount concern of the movement.  Whether she wants to be a doctor, an engineer, a teacher, an athlete, a housewife, a rock star, a game developer, a secretary, a builder, a sex worker or a soldier, the only thing that matters is that the woman has made an informed decision about her vocation of her own free will.  We're beyond the point where a woman is subordinate to a man.

This is the lesson I impart unto my daughter and to my son: the only real difference between men and women is biology.  And one's biology is one's own, to do with as they see fit.  I don't know if I will agree with my children's life choices as they get older, but I do know they will make those choices for themselves, having been informed as best as they can by reputable sources. And I will insist that they respect the lives and choices of others.  And if either of them found themselves the subject of a photo spread in the likes of Vanity Fair, I would be proud of them.

As always, feel free to comment below, and please do +1 this and share.

4L - Love, Laugh, Live, Learn.

Al H.

Looking for the Silver Lining: Thoughts on Depression

I honestly don’t think I’ve written something of substance in years.

Sure, I’ve done the odd blog here or there, added some warily insightful commentary on this subject or that, added my own tuppence-worth to ongoing Facebook debates. But it’s all been from my head. Not a word from my heart.

I used to duet with a friend, writing poems together; I actually remember sitting in a beer garden in Stevenage in 2003, randomly texting a verse to her out of the blue, and spending the next hour or two building a poem one stanza at a time.  She had a “perzine” that she used to put together, containing her thoughts, musings, poems, art and such; I was given the honour of having some of my own work published in it. It stimulated me into writing more myself.  Sometimes it was bleak, sometimes it was amorous, sometimes it was downright nuts (as anyone who’s read my poem “Leprechauns” will no doubt attest), and yes, sometimes it was dreadful.  But always it flowed from me, often from the heart.

To this day people often remark that I have a gift with the English language.  Sometimes they applaud my prowess and poetic flourish, both in written and aural form. Sometimes, and to my irritation, I am asked if I would be ever so kind as to ‘speak more plainly’ (read: dumb it down).  The reason for my irritation is very simple: I can conceive of no rational reason as to why we should not seek to elevate our knowledge.  And if one can speak fluently, why in the merriest of blue hells should one not also be permitted the pleasure of decorating one’s language?  And why am I saying “one” so much?

So if, as I am repeatedly told, I am so damned good with the English language, why do I not take the obvious step and make a career out of it? Why not take these words with which I play, and instead employ them in some more productive and rewarding manner?  Well, the answer is brutally simply: I have very little confidence or faith in myself or my abilities.

Depression is, as urban slang often chooses to describe such things, a bitch.  Some days seem to pass

by uneventfully, others even seem like fun. But too many days feel like a dead weight on your whole being, one which has been your burden for what seems like an eternity. It’s an oft-touted expression that those who assert that people with depression should just “get over it” or “cheer up” have no idea what depression really is, and there is some truth to that. But how does one explain how depression feels to someone who has never suffered from it to such a degree that they require medication?

Theories abound, of course, as to the roots or causes of depression. Is it a chemical imbalance? Bullying at school? Some other factor? The trouble with a social illness such as this is in expressing how we feel. Some simply aren’t articulate enough to get their point across, and for all my supposed proficiency with language, it is nonetheless a toil to fully express the struggles I have, living in a world with which I constantly find myself at odds.

Not long after the New Year, I was compelled to go into town to register as an official job seeker. Moreover, I was compelled to walk into town and back, with knee, back and sciatic pain that bordered on incandescent. While there, I was called by my A4E liaison; upon concluding my business with the DWP, I visited her office out of some sense of obligation or courtesy.  And I was not in a happy place; my physical pain had left me drained and exhausted, resulting in a state of mind that was already tense and uncomfortable plunging further into a melancholic abyss. It was possibly me at my bleak, misanthropic, nihilistic worst.  I loathed that office, I loathed her, and I continued to loathe myself.

Depression is self-destructive. It can cause you to withdraw from people, shut yourself off from society, render you isolated, drive you to tortures upon yourself both physical and mental.  In many ways it can be every bit as deadly as a heroin addiction or overdosing on ecstasy, except instead of bliss you get misery. Except depression isn’t simply about feeling depressed and miserable.  For some, depression is a condition that leaves you devoid of emotion, unable to feel as others feel. Others may develop an inability to communicate properly. Some may develop anxiety issues, some may struggle to cope with things like bills or housework. Some may struggle to so much as answer the door.  Depression does not follow any particular pattern of which I am aware.

It’s also hard for other people to appreciate that you have a mental illness when you exhibit no real physical signs or symptoms to tip them off.  While other conditions such as Down’s syndrome or motor neurone disease exhibit clear outward physical signs, depression is entirely internal. It cannot be observed visually, which brings to mind the old adage “how do you fight something you can’t see?”

If there is one silver lining in this black cloud that hangs over our collective heads, it is that more people are being diagnosed with depression daily.  That may not seem like a ray of light at first, but the more people are diagnosed, the more science and medicine can learn about the condition.  Better treatments, better counselling, and perhaps most importantly better recognition.  Depression is still seen by some as a pariah of medical conditions, even within certain circles of the medical profession.  And yet there are numerous confirmed cases of people being hospitalised due in no small part to stress, another aspect of depression and a significant part of mental health research in general.

I was diagnosed with depression around 5 years ago, though I suspect I’ve been suffering from it at least for most of my adult life. I’ve exhibited many of the common symptoms – isolation, misery, thoughts of worthlessness, and yes, thoughts of suicide. Despite evidence to the contrary, the reason I have so little confidence in myself or my abilities isn’t so much that I’m nervous that people won’t see or appreciate my abilities, but more that I don’t consider myself to have any real abilities.  Knowing I have skills is not the same as believing, just as knowing depression can be treated is not the same as believing in said treatments.

That is why depression is a constant uphill struggle on an ever-shifting mountain face. The hardest part about depression is to keep going. Often it seems futile; just as you overcome one problem, two more take its place. It sometimes feels as though life itself is against you, twisting and turning and reshaping to make your world that little bit less bearable, chipping away at you and reducing you all the time.  Why bother going on when it seems as though nobody even cares or notices you, when life just seems ridiculously unfair and pointless?

The simple answer is that there is no simple answer. We have to learn to look harder, to see the reasons that might be right in front of us in neon lights.  I have to remind myself that my children need their father, even as the nihilist in me recognises the futility of existence. I am reminded often that I do have people who care, and though it may appear sometimes as though I don’t appreciate them, in many ways I’m still alive because of them.

I began 2015 in a flat, on my own, with no money, no heating and little food, and pretty much at my lowest, most bitter ebb. I survived. And I have to believe that 2015 will end on a higher note than 2014. Because when you find yourself at your lowest, there is really only one way to go.

In Or Out: The Question of Scottish Independence

Today has seen David Cameron, Prime Minister of this sceptred isle, deliver a rallying speech to the four corners of the United Kingdom, ahead of the Scottish government’s referendum on independence on 18th September.  The speech waxed lyrical about why Scotland needs to remain a part of the United Kingdom. Mr. Cameron implored the people of England, Northern Ireland and Wales to speak up in defence of the Union, and listed in detail the benefits that being unified brings both to Scotland and the UK. And he delivered this rousing, patriotic, passionate speech... in London.

Robert I the Bruce, King of Scots, who
successfully led Scotland to independence

Scottish independence has been, one way or another, an ongoing concern for centuries.  The rivalry between England and Scotland dates at least as far back as the Roman occupation of England and Wales; several brief incursions of southern Scotland took place that nearly wiped out one or both forces, and the border of Scotland was in a frequent state of flux.  The Wars of Scottish Independence began when Scotland responded to Edward I of England’s request that the Scots join his armies against France, by giving him the proverbial finger and siding with France instead. Edward didn’t like that, so he deposed John Balliol and took over Scotland; Scotland responded with Robert the Bruce.  The eventual result was the world’s first declaration of independence, the Declaration of Arbroath, in 1320.

King James VI, King of Scots, who became
the first monarch of the United Kingdom

The United Kingdom of Great Britain was borne of a personal union between the kingdoms of England, Scotland and Ireland in 1603, after James VI, King of Scots, inherited the English and Irish thrones. Yep, the first monarch of the United Kingdom was Scottish.  The union between England and Scotland became a political union in 1707, following the Treaty of Union which was agreed the year prior, and enacted by both countries via the Acts of Union, despite fierce opposition from the populace - anti-union riots occurred in Edinburgh, Glasgow, and elsewhere, but the union proceeded nonetheless, incorporating Ireland in the early 1800s.

So why the call for independence now?  Seems Scotland was pretty much instrumental in forming the Union in the first place.  Well, there have always been those who wanted out, but the current movement for independence probably began when Thatcher’s government introduced the unpopular Poll Tax to Scotland in 1989, one year before the rest of the UK.  The movement for Scottish self-governance took a step further when, in 1988, the Scotland Act established a devolved Scottish parliament with limited self-governance, while still remaining in the Union.

Scottish Parliament logo

That movement gained further leverage when the Scottish National Party became the first to form a majority government in Scotland since devolution – unusual since the Additional Member system designed by the Labour government in 1999 was meant to prevent any one party gaining overall control.  Now, with the SNP in that position, they have been able to move on their key policy – independence.

OK then, so what is their stance on independence?  Well, it has a few key points. The first and most obvious is that the governance of Scotland be completely separate from and independent of the UK government.  While Scotland already enjoys the limited right to govern domestic policy thanks to devolution, it still answers to Westminster in Union and wider matters, including foreign and defence policy.  The independence movement seeks to remove its ties to Westminster and be completely self-governing in domestic, European and international affairs.

The debating chamber of the Scottish Parliament
Building in Holyrood, Edinburgh

There are a few other things that need to be considered, however. One of the most prominent concerns is currency.  The SNP has indicated it wishes to keep using sterling, the coin of the UK, a relatively recent change in its platform since until 2010 it had proposed adopting the Euro; those plans fell out of favour with the European Sovereign-debt crisis.  Retaining sterling has its advantages, of course; the infrastructure is already in place to cope with it. Any change will necessitate a massive shift in the technology and banking arrangements currently set up in Scotland, not to mention revaluation of goods.

Revaluing isn’t as much a problem, however, if they simply change to the Euro.  Again, the Euro has been in play for some time now, and most members of the EU employ the Euro as their currency, meaning there is plenty of assistance available for the transition.  The Euro, however, is not an attractive option at the moment.  So if not the Euro, it’s got to be the pound, right?  Well, not exactly.  While it’s a safe bet that Scotland will want to retain ties to Europe (including financial ties), there is another alternative: their own currency. 

This would potentially be the most problematic, but ultimately the most satisfactory solution for Scotland, since although setting up a brand new currency would, again, require a major change to the financial and trade infrastructure of Scotland, it would also guarantee them complete freedom to govern their own financial affairs.  There are suggestions that the best path would be to carry on with sterling in the immediate aftermath of independence, but change to the Euro when its health improves or adopt a new Scottish currency by, say, 2020, transitioning from one to the other over time.

So, that briefly sums up money. What else?  Well, heritage.  Scotland has enjoyed a healthy and prosperous relationship with its Union partners for around 500 years now, and despite our various conflicts both before and after the Union was formed, there is a large contingent of people and several organisations, including political parties, who want it to remain as it is.  Parties as disparate as the Liberal Democrats and the BNP have vocal sections that want to maintain the Union, not just for political reasons but also historical.  But some support independence for the same reasons, though some express that view bitterly (I’ve heard of some in England supporting the cause because it would stop Scotland “being a drain on our resources,” but I personally dispute that claim).

There’s a military aspect to consider as well.  Independence would mean that Scotland would need to create its own armed forces and defences, separate from the UK.  Again, the best and most sensible option would be a transition, the phasing out of the UK from Scotland, as the Scots phase in their own setup.  Control over its own defence policies would also give them the right to determine whether or not nuclear weapons can be kept within its seas or on land, and would also tie in to foreign policy in relation to membership to organisations such as NATO, something Scottish ministers have debated for some time.

Then there’s energy.  Much of the North Sea oil is essentially north of the border; if Scotland were to become independent, it would have much greater access to the oil below the sea.  Additionally, the potential for renewable energy sources, particularly offshore, is vast, as is the revenue it could generate for Scotland. And there’s more – if it generates a surplus, it has some relatively close neighbours to whom to sell it.

So, I’ve gone through all that, and done what I can to sum it up briefly, but where do I stand?  On the one hand, I’ve been a UK citizen my whole life. To me, the United Kingdom means England, Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales.  Independence would end that.  It would alter the Union at a fundamental level, made all the more poignant by the fact that it was, in essence, Scotland that founded the Union in the first place.  But I’m a sentimental fellow, and a sentimental English fellow at that.  The reality is that Scotland leaving the Union will force some very major changes on both sides of the border, and some people simply want to avoid that headache by maintaining the status quo.  Change occurs daily, on many levels, from caterpillars becoming butterflies to nations splitting into new nations. If Scotland ultimately secedes from the Union, life will still go on.  So where do I stand? In support of Scotland, whatever its decision, with my hand extended in friendship.

Ultimately, the decision rests with the people it most affects – the Scottish – and I'm not one of them.  Scotland must decide what is best for itself come the referendum.  

Freedom! ForeVer!

Russell, oh dear sweet Russell...

As many of you are no doubt aware by now, Jeremy Paxman recently played host to Russell Brand, that former DJ, current actor, and modern day dandy. If you're not, that's the video of it, right there above this paragraph.

It was an interview that spoke of "voter apathy" and "revolution".  Powerful sentiments, and ones I share. The integrity of his words, however, remains somewhat sketchy.

A few days later, Brand was one of many who participated in the Million Mask March, an event that saw thousands, if not the target million, of people in countries around the world, march through the streets as a collective, each wearing replicas of the Guy Fawkes mask worn by the eponymous protagonist in V For Vendetta.  Late in the evening, Brand stopped to sign autographs for fans who recognised him.

Wait, what?

Yep, you guessed it, Brand unmasked.  Which, on the face of it, somewhat undermines the very purpose of the mask itself.  V wore the mask for practical reasons, yes.  His entire body was horrifically burned in the fire at Larkhill, and it was suggested there was little left of his face.  But any mask can cover those wounds. V wore that particular mask symbolically, in remembrance of the previous attempt to destroy the Houses of Parliament.  V was big on symbolism.

So what was the symbolism of the mask?  V said it himself: "Ideas are bulletproof."  V himself was killed as a result of the final climactic showdown with Creedy and his goons, but that was just the man beneath the mask.  The idea he fought and died for, however, lived, and thousands descended on the centre of London, past military barricades, to watch Parliament blow up.  And all of them wore the mask.  They were all as one at that moment, unified in a common belief: that it was time for a change.  A removal of the old guard, of the crippling constraints and fears, of the oppression and tyranny, of an establishment that had long since lost the faith and conviction of those it claimed to serve.

The mask itself represented that idea, and it has grown beyond a simple movie prop or comic book device. The mask has become a symbol of a desire for change in a real sense.  The hacktivist collective Anonymous is perhaps the most renowned for its use of the mask, but it's not alone.  In fact, it's arguable that Anonymous are partly responsible for making the mask as iconic as it has become.  It has, in fact, become the very symbol it was meant to be in the comic and movie.

The Million Mask March is evidence of the power of a symbol.  That people in many countries marched as one while wearing the mask shows that there is a growing, and powerful, voice of dissension and disenfranchisement with the state of the world. Thanks to a level of communication unprecedented in human history, there is a very strong sense of a global community, through social media, blogs such as this, and instant news.  And as a global community, we have become more aware of the actions of our leaders, governments, corporations and financial institutions, and the effects of those actions on the rest of us - the 99%, as the general populace has become known. Moreover, there is a strong feeling that we, the 99%, are increasingly being marginalised by an elite caste whose overriding concern is with its own interests and avarice, the rest of us be damned.

The London part of the Million Mask March

Russell Brand's interview suggested to me a man who knows there is a major problem with the system in place, but doesn't have a solution beyond crying "revolution!"  I can understand that. I think many of us see a system in freefall, and desperately want to see it change dramatically and fundamentally, but don't know how to make it happen.  Marches, protests, petitions, campaigns and such are all powerful tools, but more needs to be done.  Then there's what comes after.  After the revolution, after the dismantling of the old guard, what do we do? Do we appoint a new leader, someone who truly represents the people?  And then how do we know they'll stay the course? And above all, how will we manage a change as massive as the one we need, after corporations, financial institutions, governments and military regimes are brought down?

The revolution for which Brand calls is one I believe is coming.  But it's not nearly as easy as a simple jingoistic war cry from a celebrity fop.  We have become so accustomed to the way of things - governments making decisions for us, banks telling us how important it is to have money, corporations reminding us daily that we need their products and services, only for us to capitulate like good little consumers - that removing it all from our lives could be too much to take all at once.  Panic would flood the streets, chaos would ensue.

Change needs to occur.  But not all at once.  We simply wouldn't cope with it.  And the truth of the matter is that, like Brand, I don't have an answer.  I don't know how this change should occur, what should replace the current order, and how we carry on beyond it.  But I do know that, jingoistic and ego-driven though he may be, Russell Brand spoke to a lot of people on several levels in that interview, and in some ways made sense.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. The whole thing about him taking off his mask.  Well, he wanted to sign autographs for his fans, didn't he?  Make of that what you will, dear reader. But he wasn't the only one to unmask - indeed, there were many who didn't even have so much as a scarf to cover their face. But making the lack or removal of a mask the focus of this matter is a merely a diversion.  It's not the messenger, or the words, we should focus on, but the spirit and substance of the message.  The symbolism embodied by thousands of people worldwide congregating in a common cause.  The mask is a powerful symbol, but one does not need to be reliant upon it to deliver the message.

As for the revolution? Well, it will be more than televised, it will be on Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, Instagram, and if you look hard enough, probably even the news.  But the aftermath of said revolution? That's the grey area we need to clear up.

Comments and discussion more than welcome, they are encouraged.

Lest we forget...

Remembrance Sunday. It is one of our more sombre traditions, observed on or about the 11th of November.  The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, a moment in history that shall not soon be forgotten.  It was the moment of the Armistice, when a ceasefire was officially declared, which effectively and symbolically saw the end of the first World War, one of the most brutal and horrific conflicts in humanity's history.

The field of battle

At this time of year, at 11:00 on the nearest Sunday to the 11th of November, people observe a moment's silence, in remembrance of those who died in the service of their country during the two World Wars. Thousands of men and women who fought on the mud-plagued battlefields and waterlogged trenches of the front lines of Europe, and gave their lives defending their nation.

It's never, ever, that simple.  Aside from the legal and official side of things - different nations ratified peace at different times and for different conditions, months after the Armistice began - there was the more personal aspect.  Soldiers died for the cause both sides were propagating.  And every single soldier was somebody's son or daughter, or someone's mother or father, brother or sister, husband or wife, friend, neighbour.

And it wasn't just soldiers.  Civilians lost their lives too.  Men, women and children who had neither part or place in the war, were killed by the enemy, and sometimes by friendly fire.  Families of soldiers and civilians alike were left devastated by the loss of a loved one. In some families entire generations were wiped out. Fathers and sons killed side by side in battle.  Homes destroyed. Towns devastated.

And this happened on both sides of the battlefield.  German families, towns and communities were damaged in the wars too.  Russia perhaps suffered the most losses of the entire Second World War.  Two cities in Japan were virtually wiped out by, to date, the only use of nuclear weapons in warfare.  The world as a whole was irrevocably changed by possibly the most devastating wars in human history.  Nobody escaped unscathed.

A moment's peace: Allied and German troops together during
the Christmas Truce of 1914. Picture taken from the Daily Mirror

Yet even in time of war, there is still hope.  This is best exemplified by the Christmas Truce, a series of unofficial ceasefires over the Christmas period of 1914.  During this time, at numerous locations, soldiers on both sides of the conflict put down their guns and walked into No Man's Land.  Instead of fighting, they met, shook hands, and exchanged gifts and souvenirs.  Carols were sung and decorations put up in both trenches. Some exchanged buttons from each other's jackets. The cartoonist Bruce Bairnsfather, who served during the war, reported seeing one German soldier sitting calmly while a British gunner cut his hair.  And perhaps most famously, the two sides engaged in a less bloody conflict - a mass game of football that saw as many as 50 participants kicking a pigskin around the battlefield.  It was an uneasy truce - there were more than a few who were openly hostile to the idea, and warned that if the enemy left their trench and attempted to fraternise, they would be shot. But in some of these cases at least, their reticence proved unfounded.  For just a brief moment and in just a few places, peace won out.

I have never and will ever condone the act of war.  There is always a better solution.  And there are some within the military who glory in warfare, who court it - those who, in simple terms, are spoiling for a fight. But there are others. Those soldiers who signed up to protect and defend those who could not defend themselves.  The ones who held to a code of honour. The ones who carried the stretchers to take their fallen away from the battlefield.  The ones who remained home, trying to keep their house and family going through terrible times.  I don't agree with those who sign up for military action, but neither do I agree that their deaths should be ignored.

I continue to hope for a better world. I'm not convinced I will see an end to war in my lifetime, but I keep hoping that if nothing else, it will fade away.  And sometimes, while war is always the wrong outcome, it may be for the right reasons, or at least burdened with good intentions.  But then, isn't that what the road to Hell is paved with?

And so, on this day, I choose to remember all of those who have lost their lives because of war.  Be they friend or foe, soldier or civilian, everybody matters.  We're all only human.

Rock is dead? Trillians Rockbar shuts its doors.

On 31st October 2013, Trillians Rockbar celebrated the first night of a two-part Hallowe'en event.  There was music, beer, face-painting and all manner of spooky goings-on, and I imagine a fun time was had by all.  And many left that night looking forward to the second part the next day.

It never happened.

At 8:40 am the following morning, the following message appeared on Trillians' official Facebook page:

Just like that, one of Newcastle's most popular pubs, and a focal point for the rock community of the North East, was gone.  A pub that had seen thousands of bands, including more than a few big names, perform on the little stage opposite the bar, and held dear memories for so many of its patrons young and old, was snuffed out.

Maybe.

The reason for the closure? Trillians was part of the Bramwell Pub Company (formerly Barracuda), who went into administration the same day.  The administrators, Zolfo Cooper, immediately set about closing 25 pubs. Although it hasn't officially been stated yet which ones have been shut, it's fairly safe to assume one of them is Trillians, seeing as how it's suddenly closed for business.

Trillians has been a part of Newcastle, and its rock scene in particular, for many years. From its early days in the 1960s as the Man In The Moon, through Jubilee 77/The Jubilee, to its most recent incarnation, it's seen all manner of performers ply their trade, including the Damned, Napalm Death, At The Gates, Diamond Head, Saxon, Blaze Bayley, All About Eve and who knows how many more, as well as being a prominent venue for local talent to play.

But its more than that.  There are memories in those walls.  From the tables that had tickets, CD covers, flyers and patches of bands like Iron Maiden, AC/DC and Black Sabbath, to the seemingly pointless spiral staircase that went nowhere; from squeezing through an immovable jam-packed throng on a Saturday night for half an hour just to get a drink at the bar, to sitting quietly at a table tucking into some chips in the mid afternoon; meeting friends, making new ones - some people, including "Mrs. Loud", the singer on Meat Loaf's hit "I'd Do Anything For Love", apparently found their future spouses inside the confines of the place.

And in the blink of an eye, it's gone.

Well, I did say maybe.

Not long after the announcement was made, a new group was founded: Save Trillians. And in the space of less than a day, it acquired almost 10,000 members.  So many people who had a lot of memories of Trillians (under any name), or just expressing their sorrow at its closure, or wondering if a new owner would keep it as a rock bar.  One member had even spoken to the administrators about the pub.  There's a large contingent of people who want to keep Trillians alive, and it only takes one to actually start the ball rolling.  But 10,000 can roll it so much quicker.

We've already lost the Mayfair. Let's not lose this as well.

Pigs, dogs and sheep.

Remember New Labour? I had a poster of a spoof colour chart once - things like a washed-out yellow labelled "Urine Stain", a murky brown with the tag "Skidmark", and the obligatory "Token Black". It also included a bold red - "Labour" - and a bold royal blue - "New Labour". There is no left and right in the Houses of Parliament. There is only those who crave power and those who wield it.  Or, as the late legendary Bill Hicks once said "It doesn't matter who you vote for, the Government always wins".  So the question becomes not whose policies are more agreeable to the voter, but whose lies are more palatable.

That said, the current wave of Tory aggression against the less privileged betrays a strong sense of prejudice and disdain from our nation's illustrious fois gras fed elite.  They tighten the noose around the neck of social housing families who have the unmitigated gall to have three bedrooms. They lobby to make it easier to fire people.  They allow employers to offer zero-hour contracts, solely to boost employment figures with no guarantee of income for those who take them.  They petition to control and prescribe the way you use the internet, restricting your freedom under the guise of protecting children - that reliable old chestnut that governments have used for generations to guilt the public into acquiescing to their demands.

And the elite? The top 3%?  They idly bicker in Parliament before retiring to their chambers and quaffing fine wine and brandy with their corporate sponsors.  They continue to award themselves fat bonuses for always doing a hard day's corruption.  They decline culpability for the oft-touted "global economic crisis" in favour of making sure YOU, the man on the street, the average joe, realise why it's your fault.  They punish you for speaking out of turn.  They have you incarcerated simply for voicing an opinion that disapproves of their decisions.  They obfuscate and distract.  They create elaborate smokescreens to incite public outrage at a dead celebrity paedophile while they encroach ever further on your civil rights and liberties. They satiate their vast avaricious appetite on a whim, all the while squeezing the life out of the majority that afforded them their gilded lofty perch, and doing so with a scotch in their hand, a smile on their face, and a room full of guffawing power mongers nodding, winking and smiling along with them.

And so the powerful are assured of their place in the stars, certain of their greatness, of how THEY alone improved society, while the rest of us struggle forward, battling against the corporate hurricane in a futile attempt to make life mean more than simply birth-school-work-death.

Thus, the underbelly starts to grumble.  People band together to build on an idea, an alternative to the long-sustained status quo.  The disenfranchised become more vocal. Protests and marches are organised. Hundreds, even thousands of people gather to make their voices heard.  And all in defiance of a powerful minority who simply don't listen.  So the grumble becomes a rage, the proverbial fire burning inside.  Protests become clashes. Marches become riots. The restless proletariat release their pent-up frustration, and violence ensues.

And then the pigs let loose their dogs.  The hounds of justice circle the disgruntled flock, pen them in, then attack. They bite, they claw, they savage, they rend, they bark and snarl.  They pick off the strays and take them back to the pound with them for a feeding frenzy. And thus are the masses put back in their place. Rebellion will not be tolerated.  Return to your homes. Return to your televisions, your reality programmes and quiz shows.  Return to your quiet complacency and your docile acceptance of the status quo.  Your leaders are in control once again.

Blather, rinse, repeat.

The LGBTQ Question

What are you? What am I?

It's an odd question, yet one we have been asking ourselves since the dawn of civilised man.  Philosophers have spent their entire lives debating the purpose of our being here, even if such a purpose exists beyond our own design.  Yet lately it seems to have taken on a more focused significance.

The gays are coming! The gays are coming! Lock up your... um... sons maybe? What about the lezzers? Daughters as well then? What do we do about this problem when there are so many puffs about?

The answer is so ludicrously simple it's barely worth mentioning, yet so many people insist on making an issue out of it.  Ready? Here it is... shut up, grow up, and get over it.


I've never understood homophobia. Now let's clear that up first off all: "homophobia".  It's generally understood that a phobia is a fear of something, usually an irrational one.  There's a meme circulating the likes of Facebook and other social media locales, often attributed to Morgan Freeman, that states "I hate the word ‘homophobia’. It’s not a phobia. You’re not scared. You’re just an asshole." It's a very valid, though not entirely accurate, statement to make.

Think of it like a pyramid. At the top, you have your churches, your presidents, your prime ministers - the apparent heads of society.  Then you trickle down to their underlings - priests, MPs, and so on.  This goes on and on until you finally get to those holding up these institutions - we the people.

Now, let's add an agenda to that, in this case, the LGBTQ question.  You've got your church leaders - for the sake of this argument, I'll go with the Christian church - telling us that homosexuality is a sin and an abomination.  They'll recite chapter and verse from the Bible to prove it.  Their cardinals and archbishops pass this on to their bishops and ministers, who pass it to their priests and vicars, who spread this message to their congregations.

Next, you add the bad.  The message becomes one of demonization - all homosexuals are homicidal paedophiles who sodomise goats and worship SATAN. They all engage in rampant, uninhibited Satanic debauchery and defilement of all that is holy.  I swear, I've actually seen all of the above, and more, used to refer to LGBTQ people.

Then, you personalise it. They're coming for YOUR children, living in YOUR neighbourhood, working in YOUR offices, walking the same streets, breathing the same air, going to the same shops, as YOU. Be careful or you'll catch the gay!

And thus you have the fear.

In other words, homophobia is as much about fear as it is hate.  This fear is partly engineered by our authority figures, but it is a fear nonetheless.  And it's an old axiom that we attack and hate what we fear.  Control through fear is nothing new; nations, religious institutions and other socio-political constructs have been at it for millennia.  Heck, even Star Wars used it - remember when Grand Moff Tarkin announced that the Imperial Senate was being dissolved?

But here's the problem. Right here. You're looking at it. You're using it right now.  The internet. The World Wide Web. Social media has given everyone the opportunity to have a voice, and those voices are loud and out of control.  And for every fear-mongering, misinformation peddling, hate-filled bigot who shouts "God hates fags" or some other uneducated buffoonery, there are many sites, blogs, Facebook pages and Twitter profiles promoting the idea of... get this... LOVE.

I know, crazy right?

In this writer's less-than-humble opinion, all this hatred and discrimination being levelled at the LGBTQ community is frankly ludicrous.  There are campaigns to abolish and criminalise non-straight sexualities in nations all over the world.  I've heard of lobbying to legalise flogging for being gay, death penalties being debated, social ostracising, company policies prohibiting homosexuality... all for what?  The prevention of someone being in love?

It's frequently touted that the Bible explicitly states homosexuality is evil (Leviticus 18:22, for example). This same book both prohibits (Leviticus 19:27) and demands (1 Corinthians 11:14) haircuts, for crying out loud!  Some people are so consumed with obeying the letter of the Bible that they give themselves headaches with all the contradictions contained within.  But here's the real kicker: some of these Christian folk... are you sitting down? Comfy?... are GAY! How does that work?!  How do you reconcile your faith with your sexuality? Oh, that's easy - with love.  I once asked a bisexual Catholic friend this question, and she answered, quite simply, that she adheres to and advocates the message of love, tolerance, respect and peace contained in the teachings of Christ. No room for all that hatred and persecution that folk like the Westboro Baptist Church bang on about.

Then there are the charges that same-sex marriage will lead to incestuous weddings, or that homosexuals are all paedophiles and rapists, or other such idiotic claims.  I can't decide whether these are hilarious or disturbing.  That some people would stoop so low as to make these accusations is both a damning indictment of the accusers, and completely unsurprising. Am I saying there aren't gay paedophiles? No I'm not - how many Catholic priests have been caught out? But to say all gays are paedophiles, or all paedophiles are gay, is nothing short of vile. One could make a realistic claim to it being a hate crime.

So what about the claim that it's a choice? Well, that's slightly more tricky - it can be argued that there is an element of choice involved. But here's the tricky part - it has been proven that a person's sexual orientation or gender identity is genetically encoded into them at birth. So where's the choice? Simple: acceptance or denial. You can accept who you are and be true to yourself, or you can supress it and live a lie. Social factors will, of course, have an influence in your direction, but at the end of it all, the decision is not to be gay or straight.  It's to be honest with yourself and everyone around you, or to live a lie and deceive your friends, your family and yourself.

It's not that simple, though.  And here's where the fear rears its ugly head again.  Coming out can be a major step for some, especially with family. Some will accept it and say it's OK. Some will say they already knew. And some, sadly, will react badly. They'll disown their "loved one" out, or become hostile, even violent, and the prospect of that can be overwhelming.  So sometimes, one will supress their true self to keep the peace, which can be just as painful and damaging.

Just don't give me that crap about "curing the gay" out of someone. It's not an illness, it's not a disease, it's not a condition. It's a state of being, a lifestyle, a way of life.  You can't cure life, you can only begin, live and end it. Curing it is a myth - all you do is supress it, deny it, pretend it's not real. You live a lie.

Thankfully, society has evolved a lot since Oscar Wilde was jailed. We're in a world where some of our best and brightest artists are openly gay. UK soap Coronation Street counts a trans woman and a number of gay and lesbian individuals among its characters.  Jim Parsons, Jodie Foster, Stephen Fry, Clive Barker, John Barrowman, George Takei, Graham Norton, KD Lang, Ellen DeGeneres, Anna Paquin, and hundreds of others have become immensely successful in music, theatre, literature, film and television, and all are gay, lesbian or bi.  Isreali singer and transsexual woman Dana International became the winner of the 1998 Eurovision Song Contest.  Eddie Izzard is an immensely successful comedian, actor and writer is not only open about his transvestism, but has regularly made it a part of his stage act.  Politicians, police officers, doctors, even vicars, have come out.  And across the world, love is finally winning - marriage is becoming a reality for thousands of gay and lesbian couples across the world. There is still much to do, but there is also palpable, observable progress. More and more people are thinking of LGBTQ people not as "one of them" but as "one of us" - not a group of people to be treated as a curiosity or an oddity or pariahs, but as human beings.

Personally, it doesn't matter to me what your orientation or gender is.  What matters is who you are as a person, a human being. Good people come from all walks of life, just as bad people do. Being straight, gay, bi or trans doesn't make you a bad person. It doesn't make you a good person either. It simply makes you who you are.

I hope this entry into my blog has been informative to some degree, and that it might, in some small way, be helpful to someone.  I hope I've not come across as patronising or uninformed, and I sincerely apologise if you do get that impression. This is just me trying to make sense of a senseless world in my own little way.

Thanks for reading. Constructive criticism and comments always welcome.

The start of something chaotic...

Greetings, fair denizens of the blogosphere (and some o' you foul ones as well), and welcome to the personal journal of Morogth Xavier (that's me. And that's not my birth name either).

Over time you will find my myriad thoughts, musings, prose and poetry, all of which will adhere to my own stringent standards while simultaneously failing to meet your own - either because your minds are far greater or far poorer than mine.

My thoughts run rampant and often unchecked, so I feel that documenting them may in some way allow me to organise my thoughts and provide me with greater clarity as to my state of mind, my beliefs and philosophies, and that part of me that screams for artistic release (and to some extent, talent).

I have no further comments as yet, but watch this space - more will come, my friends.

Mr. Morogth Xavier