There are two sorts of Brexiteer: the Idealists, as found in UKIP and the deeper recesses of the ERG, and the Opportunists - the ones who are currently occupying 10 Downing St. It’s the second lot who worry me most.
The Idealists are fixated on a significant point in time: the moment when Britain casts off the shackles of EU membership and bravely embraces the dawn of a new Golden Age. There will be difficulties, they admit, but having boldly stepped across the threshold, we can all confidently look forward to a glorious future.
For the Opportunists, on the other hand, Brexit is merely a small piece in a much larger plan. While the Idealists may be genuinely convinced that post-Brexit Britain will be a better place, the Opportunists have bigger fish to fry. They secretly see the disruption and hardship of a No Deal Brexit not as a threat but rather as a softening-up exercise on the path to a wider goal. It is no good trying to persuade such people that crashing out of the EU will result in empty supermarket shelves, queues on the motorways and power cuts. They already know this and, what is more, they welcome it.
Picture this: November 1st and Boris Johnson is still Prime Minister - Labour having stymied hopes of a Government of National Unity. The UK has crashed out of the EU and everyone is beginning to feel nervous. Within days problems begin to arise - many of them resulting from a pervasive sense of uncertainty which, in turn, gives rise to defensive behaviours, panic buying etc. There’s an increase in the number of public order incidents, blame being directed at remainers who — it is rumoured — are deliberately sabotaging the process of transition. In turn the remainers cry “I told you so” while quietly hoping for the best. Within a week or two gaps begin to appear on supermarket shelves. At first it amounts to little more than a narrowing of choice but it quickly moves to the point where the supply of essentials appears threatened. As the days grow shorter, power-cuts become more frequent. Most people begin to suffer a sense of unease; others are genuinely fearful.
Then one morning, just when things are starting to look really bad, Boris Johnson, with Liz Truss at his elbow, appears on the media to announce that Britain has concluded a comprehensive trade deal with the US and that the sunlit uplands are finally within sight. It’s incredible; it’s almost as if it was all planned in advance. A week later, supermarket shelves are replenished; and while choice is a little more restricted, it’s so cheap!
Everyone is happy and relieved. It was just like they said it would be: “An unavoidable short period of adjustment, followed by the long-awaited rewards”. Waitrose shoppers might be a bit grumpy about having to pay more for their French Wine but then, as we all know, the appreciation of fine wine is about far more than mere affordability.
In the general election, held after long delays and constitutional shenanigans, The Tories, under Johnson, are swept to power with an unassailable majority. The opposition parties don’t know what hit them.
Game over — or at least that particular one. In reality it is just the start.
Monday, August 12, 2019
Saturday, August 03, 2019
Dominic Cummings - Boris Johnson's Éminence Grise
An éminence grise or grey eminence is a powerful decision-maker or adviser who operates behind the scenes or in a non-public or unofficial capacity
Having watched the Channel 4 Drama, Brexit: The Uncivil War, I feel I know Dominic Cummings rather well. In fact, Benedict Cumberbatch’s portrayal of Cummings was so convincing that I am happy to accept it as as the real thing. I’d go so far as to say that I honestly can’t imagine Cummings doing himself any better.
This is made all the more persuasive by the fact that Cumberbatch is identified in the public imagination with Sherlock Holmes. So the character we all saw leaning against a door frame in 10 Downing Street on the first day of Boris Johnson’s premiership was none other than the legendary resident of 221b Baker Street, invited to apply his powerful intellect and sharp eye for detail to the task of getting Brexit done. The illusion is one colluded in by the media, admiring colleagues and quite possibly by Cummings himself - Benedict Cumberbatch being — it has to be said — a very attractive and impressive individual.
You might view all this this as little more than whimsy, but it is worth noting that Dominic Cummings is already being referred to as a genius - and not only by his political associates.
What is undoubtedly true is that the genius stereotype, namely that of an individual blessed (or cursed) with great insights while simultaneously lonely, self-conscious and socially inhibited, appears to hold a fascination for many people and Cummings clearly fits the bill.
Of course the aura of genius surrounding Cummings was greatly strengthened when, against all the odds, he engineered the British electorate into voting to leave the EU - an outcome that left even the politicians fronting the Vote Leave campaign shocked and disoriented. If such a mind could be persuaded to apply itself to the mundane matter of delivering Brexit — so the thinking goes — we might hope to put the whole nightmare behind us.
For those wishing to find out more about what Dominic Cummings thinks, he has conveniently published a blog and a long paper: Some Thoughts on Education and Political Priorities in which he explores many of the ideas that interest him. The first thing that has to be said about this material is that there is an awful lot of it. The paper, written in 2013, incomplete and running to 237 pages, reads like a mash-up of current trends in scientific, technological and sociological thinking. The range of topics is huge - the following being a partial list: pure mathematics, the standard model of particle physics, complexity, emergence, self-organisation, chaos theory, synthetic biology, energy policies, game theory, space exploration, computer science, quantum computing, artificial intelligence, digital fabrication, modeling and simulation, genetics, biological engineering, education, virtual reality, augmented reality, economics, politics, psychology and philosophy. He has clearly done an immense amount of reading across a vast expanse of contemporary theory and the end result is something resembling a trophy cabinet, calculated both to impress and intimidate. This is not to denigrate Cummings’ understanding of these topics. I have ventured into this jungle on a number of occasions and it is a rich source of ideas, some of which I am already familiar with - others that are new and intriguing. At the same time, there is something faintly disconcerting about the sheer magnitude of material and the unstructured manner of its presentation.
Reading Cummings brings to mind a cinematic trope frequently encountered in thrillers: you know, the one where the protagonist discovers the lair of the serial killer (who incidentally is never at home) only to find the walls covered from floor to ceiling with mysterious photographs, diagrams, calculations etc. and marking the moment when the true, horrifying extent of the other’s insanity becomes suddenly and undeniably apparent. Now I am not suggesting for a moment that Dominic Cummings is an evil genius any more than I am ready to acknowledge him as a genius plain and simple. All the same, David Cameron’s characterisation of Cummings as a ‘career psychopath’ has a peculiar resonance.
There is a serious point however and it is this: amongst all Cummings’ exposition of ideas, technologies etc. there is no trace of a guiding ethic, no acknowledged beliefs or principles. His thoughts are almost exclusively confined to the applicability of sophisticated mathematical models, visualisation techniques and computational tools to problems of government. In a very real sense, Cummings has weaponised the fruits of his researches and appears willing to put them at the disposal of interests whose aims are only too explicit. For his part, he demands only two things:
1. That the stated goal is deemed susceptible to an engineering approach and
2. That he is given sufficient scope and freedom of action to promise a successful outcome.
There is an unspoken assumption behind his thinking however, namely that problems in the social domain: education, politics, the economy and so on are, in essence, no different from the more complex areas of the physical sciences such as weather-forecasting and the modeling of turbulent flow; and that while the available formal models might be somewhat limited, there is nothing in the social domain that need be impervious to successful manipulation by a sufficiently sophisticated intelligence. The ends justify the means so the saying goes, but in Cummings’ case one suspects it is the other way round, namely that The effectiveness of the means, validates the end.
Nevertheless, when it comes to his recent appointment, Cummings' stated mission is to deliver Brexit by any means necessary. Given the undoubted challenge that this represents it should come as no surprise that one of the conditions of his acceptance is that he should have a veto over the appointment of ministerial aides. Never having been a member of a political party himself, he makes no secret of his disdain for politicians, describing former Brexit secretary, David Davis as ’Thick as mince, lazy as a toad and vain as Narcissus’, Ian Duncan Smith as ‘incompetent’ and ERG members as ‘useful idiots’. It seems likely that he will control ministers (on Boris Johnson’s behalf) with ruthless efficiency - transforming the principle of collective responsibility into something more like cowed obedience. One has the sense that there is no way back for ministers now. If they want to keep their jobs they have no alternative but to drink the Kool-Aid and try to come up to speed on at least a few of the funky new topics that make up the Cummings currency.
Both Dominic Cummings and his master, Boris Johnson could be accurately described as exceptional - neither is cut from the common cloth. The extent to which their very different characters intermesh suggests a game plan in which Boris works parliament, the media and the crowd whilst Cummings runs the back room operation. Boris, it is fair to say, is a self-assured communicator with a significant capacity for charm and buffoonery calculated to win support in the most unlikely quarters. However, as is tacitly acknowledged on all sides, beneath the bumbling there is a complete lack of substance and no trace of belief, moral or political principle. Not that this matters much, as there are others with perfectly clear agendas of their own whom he is prepared to serve, in exchange for the trappings of power.
The thing I am not fully convinced about however is the importance of the Brexit project itself. It is more likely, I imagine, that the real mission to which Dominic Cummings has been invited to apply himself is to ensure Boris Johnson enjoys a long premiership, during which he can make his mark on history alongside Churchill or Margaret Thatcher.
As far as Cummings himself is concerned, I have come to the conclusion that, while his interest in mathematics, science and technology is undoubtedly fascinating, to attempt to criticise him with reference to these ideas would be pointless. It is not a matter of debating truth or falsehood but of confronting a closed, self-referential system. It would be like trying to have a sensible discussion with someone who believes that shape-shifting lizards are taking over the earth — you’re never going to win.
No — in assessing Cummings’ contribution to the future of our country I prefer to adopt an altogether older, time-hallowed principle: by their fruits you will know them.
Having watched the Channel 4 Drama, Brexit: The Uncivil War, I feel I know Dominic Cummings rather well. In fact, Benedict Cumberbatch’s portrayal of Cummings was so convincing that I am happy to accept it as as the real thing. I’d go so far as to say that I honestly can’t imagine Cummings doing himself any better.
This is made all the more persuasive by the fact that Cumberbatch is identified in the public imagination with Sherlock Holmes. So the character we all saw leaning against a door frame in 10 Downing Street on the first day of Boris Johnson’s premiership was none other than the legendary resident of 221b Baker Street, invited to apply his powerful intellect and sharp eye for detail to the task of getting Brexit done. The illusion is one colluded in by the media, admiring colleagues and quite possibly by Cummings himself - Benedict Cumberbatch being — it has to be said — a very attractive and impressive individual.
You might view all this this as little more than whimsy, but it is worth noting that Dominic Cummings is already being referred to as a genius - and not only by his political associates.
What is undoubtedly true is that the genius stereotype, namely that of an individual blessed (or cursed) with great insights while simultaneously lonely, self-conscious and socially inhibited, appears to hold a fascination for many people and Cummings clearly fits the bill.
Of course the aura of genius surrounding Cummings was greatly strengthened when, against all the odds, he engineered the British electorate into voting to leave the EU - an outcome that left even the politicians fronting the Vote Leave campaign shocked and disoriented. If such a mind could be persuaded to apply itself to the mundane matter of delivering Brexit — so the thinking goes — we might hope to put the whole nightmare behind us.
For those wishing to find out more about what Dominic Cummings thinks, he has conveniently published a blog and a long paper: Some Thoughts on Education and Political Priorities in which he explores many of the ideas that interest him. The first thing that has to be said about this material is that there is an awful lot of it. The paper, written in 2013, incomplete and running to 237 pages, reads like a mash-up of current trends in scientific, technological and sociological thinking. The range of topics is huge - the following being a partial list: pure mathematics, the standard model of particle physics, complexity, emergence, self-organisation, chaos theory, synthetic biology, energy policies, game theory, space exploration, computer science, quantum computing, artificial intelligence, digital fabrication, modeling and simulation, genetics, biological engineering, education, virtual reality, augmented reality, economics, politics, psychology and philosophy. He has clearly done an immense amount of reading across a vast expanse of contemporary theory and the end result is something resembling a trophy cabinet, calculated both to impress and intimidate. This is not to denigrate Cummings’ understanding of these topics. I have ventured into this jungle on a number of occasions and it is a rich source of ideas, some of which I am already familiar with - others that are new and intriguing. At the same time, there is something faintly disconcerting about the sheer magnitude of material and the unstructured manner of its presentation.
Reading Cummings brings to mind a cinematic trope frequently encountered in thrillers: you know, the one where the protagonist discovers the lair of the serial killer (who incidentally is never at home) only to find the walls covered from floor to ceiling with mysterious photographs, diagrams, calculations etc. and marking the moment when the true, horrifying extent of the other’s insanity becomes suddenly and undeniably apparent. Now I am not suggesting for a moment that Dominic Cummings is an evil genius any more than I am ready to acknowledge him as a genius plain and simple. All the same, David Cameron’s characterisation of Cummings as a ‘career psychopath’ has a peculiar resonance.
There is a serious point however and it is this: amongst all Cummings’ exposition of ideas, technologies etc. there is no trace of a guiding ethic, no acknowledged beliefs or principles. His thoughts are almost exclusively confined to the applicability of sophisticated mathematical models, visualisation techniques and computational tools to problems of government. In a very real sense, Cummings has weaponised the fruits of his researches and appears willing to put them at the disposal of interests whose aims are only too explicit. For his part, he demands only two things:
1. That the stated goal is deemed susceptible to an engineering approach and
2. That he is given sufficient scope and freedom of action to promise a successful outcome.
There is an unspoken assumption behind his thinking however, namely that problems in the social domain: education, politics, the economy and so on are, in essence, no different from the more complex areas of the physical sciences such as weather-forecasting and the modeling of turbulent flow; and that while the available formal models might be somewhat limited, there is nothing in the social domain that need be impervious to successful manipulation by a sufficiently sophisticated intelligence. The ends justify the means so the saying goes, but in Cummings’ case one suspects it is the other way round, namely that The effectiveness of the means, validates the end.
Nevertheless, when it comes to his recent appointment, Cummings' stated mission is to deliver Brexit by any means necessary. Given the undoubted challenge that this represents it should come as no surprise that one of the conditions of his acceptance is that he should have a veto over the appointment of ministerial aides. Never having been a member of a political party himself, he makes no secret of his disdain for politicians, describing former Brexit secretary, David Davis as ’Thick as mince, lazy as a toad and vain as Narcissus’, Ian Duncan Smith as ‘incompetent’ and ERG members as ‘useful idiots’. It seems likely that he will control ministers (on Boris Johnson’s behalf) with ruthless efficiency - transforming the principle of collective responsibility into something more like cowed obedience. One has the sense that there is no way back for ministers now. If they want to keep their jobs they have no alternative but to drink the Kool-Aid and try to come up to speed on at least a few of the funky new topics that make up the Cummings currency.
Both Dominic Cummings and his master, Boris Johnson could be accurately described as exceptional - neither is cut from the common cloth. The extent to which their very different characters intermesh suggests a game plan in which Boris works parliament, the media and the crowd whilst Cummings runs the back room operation. Boris, it is fair to say, is a self-assured communicator with a significant capacity for charm and buffoonery calculated to win support in the most unlikely quarters. However, as is tacitly acknowledged on all sides, beneath the bumbling there is a complete lack of substance and no trace of belief, moral or political principle. Not that this matters much, as there are others with perfectly clear agendas of their own whom he is prepared to serve, in exchange for the trappings of power.
The thing I am not fully convinced about however is the importance of the Brexit project itself. It is more likely, I imagine, that the real mission to which Dominic Cummings has been invited to apply himself is to ensure Boris Johnson enjoys a long premiership, during which he can make his mark on history alongside Churchill or Margaret Thatcher.
As far as Cummings himself is concerned, I have come to the conclusion that, while his interest in mathematics, science and technology is undoubtedly fascinating, to attempt to criticise him with reference to these ideas would be pointless. It is not a matter of debating truth or falsehood but of confronting a closed, self-referential system. It would be like trying to have a sensible discussion with someone who believes that shape-shifting lizards are taking over the earth — you’re never going to win.
No — in assessing Cummings’ contribution to the future of our country I prefer to adopt an altogether older, time-hallowed principle: by their fruits you will know them.
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
Dreams beyond your wildest dreams
Recently I have been working on creating a website where I hope to gather together all my thoughts, schemes (both half and fully-baked), stories, designs and inventions. I plan to have it go live before the end of the year.
In the meantime I have been mining the rich seam of past items from Horsley's Over the Wall magazine and am happy to share one of my personal favourites.
Hope you enjoy the show (as Melvyn would say).
Are you tired of having second-rate dreams? Do your dreams amount to no more than a slightly weird version of your normal working day? Do you pretend to have forgotten your dreams for fear you might be thought shallow and boring?
If this describes your dream life, then we have good news for you. For a modest outlay we can supply you with the dreams you never dared believe could be yours. Here is just a small sample of the products we have on offer:
Fly like an Eagle: Starting out in a treetop or at the top of a high building, you experience a fleeting moment of terror as you lose your balance only to discover that you can fly. We offer individual flight (eagle, heron, buzzard) as well as our highly-popular formation options (swift, starling etc).
King of the World: Rising from your bed on what at first appears to be an ordinary morning, you discover that you have won/inherited 10 million pounds. The rest of the dream is spent in excited anticipation of all the things that are suddenly possible. This is an unsophisticated yet highly effective product offered at a budget price. Customers are strongly recommended to follow it up with a second purchase such as Fly like an Eagle or Opium Eater, as otherwise the come-down on waking-up to the reality of your drab and uninteresting life can be quite severe.
Dirty weekend: An almost unlimited choice of partners and locations (campervan, beach-hut, country cottage, luxury hotel) will permit you to create a unique and utterly unforgettable experience. For our male customers we can offer Angelina Jolie, Cate Blanchett, Monica Bellucci and many, many more. For the ladies there's George Clooney (10% surcharge), Johnny Depp and Viggo Mortensen. Reductions available if opting for one's real-life partner.
The Real Thing (our premium product): Usually purchased as a romantic prelude to Dirty Weekend, this will allow you to enjoy the experience of falling in love in all its delightful and intoxicating intensity. For example, you are at Stroud Farmers market when you suddenly find yourself chatting to Miss Scarlett Johansson and it is immediately apparent that you are both irresistibly attracted to one another. Over coffee at a street-corner cafe, you discover there is so much more you want to share …
Opium Eater: Transported by flying carpet to the palaces of the Orient, you feast your eyes on jewelled elephants, elaborate architecture and veiled dancing girls to the accompaniment of melodious gongs. In common with many of our products the sense of wellbeing persists long after waking. For this reason we recommend Opium Eater as a follow-up dream to King of the World, The Real Thing etc.
Rock Star: To the strains of 'Anthem for the Common Man' you find yourself taking to the stage in front of a crowd of 500,000 adoring fans. Customers should not confuse this with inferior products from rival companies in which stage-fright or the sudden realisation that you are stark naked can transform the whole experience into a nightmare. Be assured, this is the real thing.
All major credit cards accepted. Full catalogue available on request. Please note that product descriptions are provided for illustrative purposes only. Accuracy of dreams cannot be guaranteed. Proof of age required for certain products. We regret we cannot offer refunds in the event that the transition from The Real Thing to Dirty Weekend is interrupted by the intrusion of drinking buddies, sudden compulsion to explore your childhood home, streets turning into an ever-expanding maze of tiny alleyways and so on.
In the meantime I have been mining the rich seam of past items from Horsley's Over the Wall magazine and am happy to share one of my personal favourites.
Hope you enjoy the show (as Melvyn would say).
Are you tired of having second-rate dreams? Do your dreams amount to no more than a slightly weird version of your normal working day? Do you pretend to have forgotten your dreams for fear you might be thought shallow and boring?
If this describes your dream life, then we have good news for you. For a modest outlay we can supply you with the dreams you never dared believe could be yours. Here is just a small sample of the products we have on offer:
Fly like an Eagle: Starting out in a treetop or at the top of a high building, you experience a fleeting moment of terror as you lose your balance only to discover that you can fly. We offer individual flight (eagle, heron, buzzard) as well as our highly-popular formation options (swift, starling etc).
King of the World: Rising from your bed on what at first appears to be an ordinary morning, you discover that you have won/inherited 10 million pounds. The rest of the dream is spent in excited anticipation of all the things that are suddenly possible. This is an unsophisticated yet highly effective product offered at a budget price. Customers are strongly recommended to follow it up with a second purchase such as Fly like an Eagle or Opium Eater, as otherwise the come-down on waking-up to the reality of your drab and uninteresting life can be quite severe.
Dirty weekend: An almost unlimited choice of partners and locations (campervan, beach-hut, country cottage, luxury hotel) will permit you to create a unique and utterly unforgettable experience. For our male customers we can offer Angelina Jolie, Cate Blanchett, Monica Bellucci and many, many more. For the ladies there's George Clooney (10% surcharge), Johnny Depp and Viggo Mortensen. Reductions available if opting for one's real-life partner.
The Real Thing (our premium product): Usually purchased as a romantic prelude to Dirty Weekend, this will allow you to enjoy the experience of falling in love in all its delightful and intoxicating intensity. For example, you are at Stroud Farmers market when you suddenly find yourself chatting to Miss Scarlett Johansson and it is immediately apparent that you are both irresistibly attracted to one another. Over coffee at a street-corner cafe, you discover there is so much more you want to share …
Opium Eater: Transported by flying carpet to the palaces of the Orient, you feast your eyes on jewelled elephants, elaborate architecture and veiled dancing girls to the accompaniment of melodious gongs. In common with many of our products the sense of wellbeing persists long after waking. For this reason we recommend Opium Eater as a follow-up dream to King of the World, The Real Thing etc.
Rock Star: To the strains of 'Anthem for the Common Man' you find yourself taking to the stage in front of a crowd of 500,000 adoring fans. Customers should not confuse this with inferior products from rival companies in which stage-fright or the sudden realisation that you are stark naked can transform the whole experience into a nightmare. Be assured, this is the real thing.
All major credit cards accepted. Full catalogue available on request. Please note that product descriptions are provided for illustrative purposes only. Accuracy of dreams cannot be guaranteed. Proof of age required for certain products. We regret we cannot offer refunds in the event that the transition from The Real Thing to Dirty Weekend is interrupted by the intrusion of drinking buddies, sudden compulsion to explore your childhood home, streets turning into an ever-expanding maze of tiny alleyways and so on.
Monday, June 04, 2018
The English Language
As everyone knows, William Shakespeare was a one for the words. In fact he is considered something of a specialist in that particular department — having reputedly had a vocabulary of some 17,677 separate words at his disposal.
Now the Oxford English Dictionary (20 volumes, £750, Oxford University Press) contains 218,632 different words and this has got me thinking: imagine getting 12 Elizabethan playwrights together in a room. You could share out all the words in the dictionary between them and they'd each end up with more than enough to produce a decent lifetime's work. And here's the best bit: not one of them would be able to understand a single word written by any of the others.
All of which gives me an idea: namely to frame this otherwhile evagation with such fienden cautel, meandriform tortuosity and wanhopely intertanglements that even keenly philologues won’t have the faintest clue as to what I'm on about.
And while the most pertinatious might be forgiven for renouncing exigent or otherwise usitative obligements only to prove susceptive to pococurantish musardry — especially late at night, after a glass of wine or two — the rorty ribaldise that later survenes when, having thumbled the hirpled visure of semblesse, they eagerly forsake the embrace of Morpheous for the sweeter allures of Venus — well it doesn't bear thinking about.
Now the Oxford English Dictionary (20 volumes, £750, Oxford University Press) contains 218,632 different words and this has got me thinking: imagine getting 12 Elizabethan playwrights together in a room. You could share out all the words in the dictionary between them and they'd each end up with more than enough to produce a decent lifetime's work. And here's the best bit: not one of them would be able to understand a single word written by any of the others.
All of which gives me an idea: namely to frame this otherwhile evagation with such fienden cautel, meandriform tortuosity and wanhopely intertanglements that even keenly philologues won’t have the faintest clue as to what I'm on about.
And while the most pertinatious might be forgiven for renouncing exigent or otherwise usitative obligements only to prove susceptive to pococurantish musardry — especially late at night, after a glass of wine or two — the rorty ribaldise that later survenes when, having thumbled the hirpled visure of semblesse, they eagerly forsake the embrace of Morpheous for the sweeter allures of Venus — well it doesn't bear thinking about.
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
The Hare
Yesterday in the late afternoon, walking by the edge of the high fields above our village, I met with a hare, feeding on the rich new grass growing between the winding tractor tracks.
I stopped and stood motionless. The hare was around 20 metres away - tawny grey with blackish ears. It turned its head toward me and I expected it to take off, but instead it ambled towards me along the path, stopping to nibble at another clump of grass. Now that it was a little closer I could see that its ears were slender and though mainly black were edged with vibrant white. It held them folded down along its neck but on turning its head would raise them suddenly, as if flashing me a V.
It came closer. It was about 10 metres away. My first impression was that it looked young.
I know almost nothing about hares and though my entire hare awareness had grown infinitely richer all in the space of ten minutes, I had little idea of whether, for a hare, it was large or small. Maybe my sense that it was young had something to do with its innocence in not immediately registering me as a threat. In any case, I began to doubt my first impressions as its white underbelly seemed drawn down as if weighty with milk. Was it a nursing mother?
(Even as I write, I sense the hare experts - of which there are undoubtedly several amongst my readers - reaching for their keyboards)
All this time, I had settled into a state of still immobility. I decided that I would not move whilst the encounter persisted. And she (because, by now, it seemed she was a she) came still closer.
When she was just five meters away she turned her head and I saw her perfect roundel eye.
Then she was walking towards me, high on her legs - almost like a small deer, I recall thinking - except for those amazing, slender ears, raised again in a V
And then what happened? I think it must have been me. I must have shifted a little, hesitated or something.
She turned and ran off down the path and into the field. There was nothing frantic or panicked about her exit.
It is a very strange thing - but it feels to me that I was the one who decided to end the encounter - and I don't know quite why.
I am coming to believe that the creatures with whom we share this world are conscious - not in the same way that people are, but each in their own way - distinct and wonderful.
I stopped and stood motionless. The hare was around 20 metres away - tawny grey with blackish ears. It turned its head toward me and I expected it to take off, but instead it ambled towards me along the path, stopping to nibble at another clump of grass. Now that it was a little closer I could see that its ears were slender and though mainly black were edged with vibrant white. It held them folded down along its neck but on turning its head would raise them suddenly, as if flashing me a V.
It came closer. It was about 10 metres away. My first impression was that it looked young.
I know almost nothing about hares and though my entire hare awareness had grown infinitely richer all in the space of ten minutes, I had little idea of whether, for a hare, it was large or small. Maybe my sense that it was young had something to do with its innocence in not immediately registering me as a threat. In any case, I began to doubt my first impressions as its white underbelly seemed drawn down as if weighty with milk. Was it a nursing mother?
(Even as I write, I sense the hare experts - of which there are undoubtedly several amongst my readers - reaching for their keyboards)
All this time, I had settled into a state of still immobility. I decided that I would not move whilst the encounter persisted. And she (because, by now, it seemed she was a she) came still closer.
When she was just five meters away she turned her head and I saw her perfect roundel eye.
Then she was walking towards me, high on her legs - almost like a small deer, I recall thinking - except for those amazing, slender ears, raised again in a V
And then what happened? I think it must have been me. I must have shifted a little, hesitated or something.
She turned and ran off down the path and into the field. There was nothing frantic or panicked about her exit.
It is a very strange thing - but it feels to me that I was the one who decided to end the encounter - and I don't know quite why.
I am coming to believe that the creatures with whom we share this world are conscious - not in the same way that people are, but each in their own way - distinct and wonderful.
Saturday, August 20, 2016
On being no good at Yoga
I have known for a long time that I should get serious about yoga. Apart from the obvious health benefits (both physical and spiritual) there's the aesthetic appeal of composing one’s body into all sorts of interesting, attractive and impressive postures. And if that isn’t enough, there is the tantalising prospect— for those willing to undertake a rigorous regime of self-discipline — of attaining an elevated state of consciousness and even bursting through to full-blown spiritual enlightenment.
What’s not to like about it ?
The trouble is, I'm hopeless at yoga. I can't touch my toes; I can't even sit on a flat floor with my legs outstretched without toppling backwards. At the last yoga class I attended — and I have attended many over the years — I considered asking if I might do my exercises in a little curtained-off area, visible only to the teacher and thereby sparing my fellow participants the half-glimpsed sight of my lumbering efforts.
Of course, given even a modicum of serious application, all this would undoubtedly improve. At the yoga class the teacher advises starting every day with 10 or 15 minutes practice but on the first morning there is invariably something more important that needs doing; on the second I forget completely; on the third, I do 3 minutes and realise that it is nowhere near enough and then it’s too late. Best try again next week. This goes on for a week or two, after which I decide that I won’t go back to the class until I have cracked the problem of daily practice. After that it all goes rapidly downhill until the whole cycle starts again.
I believe it boils down to a problem with self-discipline (towards which I have a stubborn and perverse resistance). If only it were possible to practice yoga in a similar way to those Michel Thomas language courses. There, the advice is that you should not try to remember any of the words you are learning and on no account should you revisit lessons or attempt to revise. Now that's the kind of discipline that appeals to me. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t seem to work when it comes to yoga.
And so — though the day I have to ask someone to tie my shoelaces is still a little way off — I have come to accept that suppleness is a quality I am destined never to enjoy.
But then recently something interesting happened. As if reluctant to give up on the yoga business completely, I found myself wondering precisely why it is I am so bad at it. So for example, if I lie on my back with my arms out to the sides and let my knees fall to the right, I get a sense of tautness in my left upper arm. It’s a similar case with the other bits. It led me to develop a mental picture of my body as a complicated system of interlinked strings (frayed) and pulleys (seized-up) in which every part is linked in some strange and intriguing way to all the others.
These days, I find myself unable to resist spending a few minutes every morning on the mat, exploring the minute details of my incompetence.
What’s not to like about it ?
The trouble is, I'm hopeless at yoga. I can't touch my toes; I can't even sit on a flat floor with my legs outstretched without toppling backwards. At the last yoga class I attended — and I have attended many over the years — I considered asking if I might do my exercises in a little curtained-off area, visible only to the teacher and thereby sparing my fellow participants the half-glimpsed sight of my lumbering efforts.
Of course, given even a modicum of serious application, all this would undoubtedly improve. At the yoga class the teacher advises starting every day with 10 or 15 minutes practice but on the first morning there is invariably something more important that needs doing; on the second I forget completely; on the third, I do 3 minutes and realise that it is nowhere near enough and then it’s too late. Best try again next week. This goes on for a week or two, after which I decide that I won’t go back to the class until I have cracked the problem of daily practice. After that it all goes rapidly downhill until the whole cycle starts again.
I believe it boils down to a problem with self-discipline (towards which I have a stubborn and perverse resistance). If only it were possible to practice yoga in a similar way to those Michel Thomas language courses. There, the advice is that you should not try to remember any of the words you are learning and on no account should you revisit lessons or attempt to revise. Now that's the kind of discipline that appeals to me. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t seem to work when it comes to yoga.
And so — though the day I have to ask someone to tie my shoelaces is still a little way off — I have come to accept that suppleness is a quality I am destined never to enjoy.
But then recently something interesting happened. As if reluctant to give up on the yoga business completely, I found myself wondering precisely why it is I am so bad at it. So for example, if I lie on my back with my arms out to the sides and let my knees fall to the right, I get a sense of tautness in my left upper arm. It’s a similar case with the other bits. It led me to develop a mental picture of my body as a complicated system of interlinked strings (frayed) and pulleys (seized-up) in which every part is linked in some strange and intriguing way to all the others.
These days, I find myself unable to resist spending a few minutes every morning on the mat, exploring the minute details of my incompetence.
Monday, July 18, 2016
Trident
The thing that most frustrates me about people who support renewal of the Trident weapons system is their apparent inability (or unwillingness) to imagine what would happen if we ever came to use it. I may be wrong, but I picture them saying something fatalistic like:
"Well, we'll all be dead anyway - so it doesn't bear thinking about".
But it does bear thinking about; we have a responsibility to think about it.
And by no stretch of the imagination would everyone be dead after a nuclear exchange. The reality would be far worse than that - for around every ground zero there would be a series of zones within which every imaginable horror would be endured.
Just to bring it home: if a single Trident warhead was exploded over a major city (similar to London) there would be half a million fatalities but, more significantly, around a quarter of a million people would suffer third degree burns and of these, upwards of 50,000 would be children. It doesn't take a great deal of imagination to picture the chaos and suffering that these numbers represent.
Bearing in mind that the UK National Burns Care Group currently defines a Mass Casualty Incident as one involving around 1000 patients, it is no exaggeration to say that injuries resulting from a nuclear strike, would overwhelm even the best-resourced medical services.
I for one am not prepared to support a defence policy that threatens to unleash an obscenity of this sort - even in retaliation.
"Well, we'll all be dead anyway - so it doesn't bear thinking about".
But it does bear thinking about; we have a responsibility to think about it.
And by no stretch of the imagination would everyone be dead after a nuclear exchange. The reality would be far worse than that - for around every ground zero there would be a series of zones within which every imaginable horror would be endured.
Just to bring it home: if a single Trident warhead was exploded over a major city (similar to London) there would be half a million fatalities but, more significantly, around a quarter of a million people would suffer third degree burns and of these, upwards of 50,000 would be children. It doesn't take a great deal of imagination to picture the chaos and suffering that these numbers represent.
Bearing in mind that the UK National Burns Care Group currently defines a Mass Casualty Incident as one involving around 1000 patients, it is no exaggeration to say that injuries resulting from a nuclear strike, would overwhelm even the best-resourced medical services.
I for one am not prepared to support a defence policy that threatens to unleash an obscenity of this sort - even in retaliation.
Friday, February 19, 2016
More fun with the smell-checker
One of my favourite comic writers - "the soles of whose shoes I am unworthy to lick" (to quote Eric Idle) - was Paul Jennings. Some of his best pieces were published as a collection called The Jenguin Pennings. If you have ever read any of these you might have noticed a certain similarity to the infinitely more humble offerings of your's truly.
There's no secret about it; Paul Jennings is a great insulation.
All of which reminds me of one of my favourite Jennings pieces. As is customary he starts with something quite innocuous before letting his comic imagination get to work. In this case he was learning to touch type and, in particular, typing the standard test phrase: "the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog". Forbidden to look at the keys, he inevitably made mistakes and then went on the analyse them for hidden, subconscious significance.
Of course, the spell-checker gives the whole enterprise a turbot boat - or should I say a turbo boost - and so I decided to give it a try.
Using Hamlet's famous soliloquy as the test piece, I typed it out as fast as I could with the spell-checker turned up to 11.
Here's what emerged:
To be or not ego end; that is the quiet son
And you see how, right from the word go, we're into some pretty deep stuff. That 'ego end' for example. What more profound way to talk about death?
Whether it is an oblige in the mind to suffer the Swiss and arrows of outrageous rotund
This is more undoubtedly more difficult. 'An oblige in the mind' has something primitive about it - there are hints here of a subconscious compulsion, but quite what the Swiss have to do with it is unclear.
Or to take absinthe and sea-dog trailers and by opening end them.
Stranger and stranger. Despite the fact that a sea-dog trailer is exactly the sort of thing you might expect to come across after a dose of absinthe, it is utterly incomprehensible why you should want to open them and how that's going to help anything.
This was clearly going to demand some serious analysis; I decided to try something simpler:
Humpy dimply dat one a wall
Humphrys dedumpty had agreed to a fall
All the kinda horse and all the makings men
Couldn't pry Humply together again
… which I am sure you will agree can confidently hold its own against the original.
As to what it means exactly - I will leave you to decide.
There's no secret about it; Paul Jennings is a great insulation.
All of which reminds me of one of my favourite Jennings pieces. As is customary he starts with something quite innocuous before letting his comic imagination get to work. In this case he was learning to touch type and, in particular, typing the standard test phrase: "the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog". Forbidden to look at the keys, he inevitably made mistakes and then went on the analyse them for hidden, subconscious significance.
Of course, the spell-checker gives the whole enterprise a turbot boat - or should I say a turbo boost - and so I decided to give it a try.
Using Hamlet's famous soliloquy as the test piece, I typed it out as fast as I could with the spell-checker turned up to 11.
Here's what emerged:
To be or not ego end; that is the quiet son
And you see how, right from the word go, we're into some pretty deep stuff. That 'ego end' for example. What more profound way to talk about death?
Whether it is an oblige in the mind to suffer the Swiss and arrows of outrageous rotund
This is more undoubtedly more difficult. 'An oblige in the mind' has something primitive about it - there are hints here of a subconscious compulsion, but quite what the Swiss have to do with it is unclear.
Or to take absinthe and sea-dog trailers and by opening end them.
Stranger and stranger. Despite the fact that a sea-dog trailer is exactly the sort of thing you might expect to come across after a dose of absinthe, it is utterly incomprehensible why you should want to open them and how that's going to help anything.
This was clearly going to demand some serious analysis; I decided to try something simpler:
Humpy dimply dat one a wall
Humphrys dedumpty had agreed to a fall
All the kinda horse and all the makings men
Couldn't pry Humply together again
… which I am sure you will agree can confidently hold its own against the original.
As to what it means exactly - I will leave you to decide.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
What is Life? 1
So, in response to the invitation that concluded my last blog as to which topic should be the 'first up' out of:
1. Buy-to-let
2. Identity theft
3. Bitcoin
4. What is Life?
I can now announce the result, namely that 100% of respondents opted for topic no.4
Readers: You say respondents. How many were there exactly ?
Three as it happens; but it doesn’t matter. What is Life? it is.
Of course, by life, we could be talking about any number of things. I mean, there's life in the abstract poetic sense:
… then there’s the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Version ….
Readers: That one will do too. Whatever. Just get on with it.
But I’m not thinking of either of these. No, I'm talking about life in the biological sense — what you see when you look at other people, dogs, trees, spiders, worms, flies. slugs and slime ... that sort of life.
Readers: Heaven preserve us.
And so the question is .... what is it exactly. What is life ?
(Some people, sensing an imminent plunge into something resembling a school chemistry lesson, might choose to get off at this point. If you are one of them then please don’t feel badly about it; it’s not like I’ll ever know. Just try to leave quietly without upsetting the others.)
I have been interested in this topic for a number of years. It would be reasonable to ask why.
Readers: Maybe — but do we really have to ?
I could talk about the books I have read, about theories and scientific disciplines but that would be to miss the essential thing, which is more to do with the sense of wonder we experience when we stand back and contemplate the mysterious world that surrounds us. And so it was in my case, initially through literature and film — and in particular, Stanislaw Lem’s book, Solaris and the later film adaptation by Andrei Tarkovsky — that I first caught a glimpse of the world seen as a stranger or innocent might see it.
In Lem’s story, the planet Solaris is so unfathomably complex that entire institutes are established, dedicated to the study of the bizarre and incomprehensible processes and structures observed on its surface. The consensus view is that the planet is effectively a single, sentient organism and, though this was some years before James Lovelock’s Gaia, it didn’t take a huge leap of the imagination to see that Solaris might easily be taken to stand for our own planet. In the film version Tarkovsky takes this a step further, in making it clear how those who have experienced the planet firsthand are irrevocably changed by the experience — being left with the sense that things formerly seen as ordinary or commonplace have taken on a quality of profound mystery.
Then sometime later, I was watching a wildlife documentary in which a flock of white birds, filmed from above, was flying over an empty landscape and I found myself thinking how Earth is a planet on which the basic building blocks of matter have mysteriously become alive to the extent that pieces can actually detach themselves from the surface and engage in all sorts of complex behaviours. In truth, Earth itself is a living planet - not just a planet with life on it, but a planet that is itself alive; seemingly unique among the other planets in the solar system; and, for all we know, in the entire universe.
In attempting to explain life, scientists — at least until recently — have had little to offer beyond the idea that, given sufficient time, the generation of a mind-boggling number of random combinations of molecules will eventually result in the accidental creation of one or more exquisite biological mechanisms, capable of self-organisation and replication.
Meanwhile, to people of faith, it is all down to the hand of God — it being utterly inconceivable that the rich tapestry of life could have come about by means of a mere lottery, however many rolls of the balls are allowed.
I find both of these views — which could respectively be labeled creationist and mechanistic — completely unsatisfactory, inasmuch as they regard the material world as oddly limited in its capacity to give rise to new forms and structures. In both scenarios, the laws of physics and chemistry are allowed to explain certain natural combinations: molecules, crystals — even amino acids (the building blocks of proteins) but it is as if, beyond a certain level of complexity, further structural elaboration is assumed to be implausible and something else has to be brought into play: either God or Dawkins’ blind watchmaker.
There is another alternative however: namely that it is in the nature of basic matter to assemble itself, first as simple and later more complex molecules, all the way up to the astounding nano-machines found in even the simplest cells and that this process entails a rich interplay of structure and environment — subject, all the while, to a number of simple rules. This is discussed in a recent book by Nick Lane: The Vital Question. As I have only a rudimentary understanding of chemistry, I have found the book fairly hard going and am still only around halfway through reading it, but it is inspiring to see the author explain how the fundamental processes found in the simplest bacterial forms of life might have come about almost inevitably, given the right environment.
Readers: so that’s what you spend your time thinking about …
Well not all my time exactly, but yes - and for no other reason than that I find this stuff seriously fascinating. And what’s more, it raises all sorts of interesting questions — for example:
Evolution would appear to account for the ‘endless forms’ in which life manifests itself, but the underlying mechanisms governing replication, respiration etc are virtually identical in all living species - even the most primitive. How did such mechanisms themselves evolve and why are there virtually no traces of alternative designs ?
Readers: Why indeed ?
And is life on earth unique or does it exist elsewhere in the universe?
Readers: Yes — that’s a good one and what’s the answer do you think ?
Ah - we might have to leave that till next time.
Readers: What? There’s more ?
Lots. We’ve barely scratched the surface
1. Buy-to-let
2. Identity theft
3. Bitcoin
4. What is Life?
I can now announce the result, namely that 100% of respondents opted for topic no.4
Readers: You say respondents. How many were there exactly ?
Three as it happens; but it doesn’t matter. What is Life? it is.
Of course, by life, we could be talking about any number of things. I mean, there's life in the abstract poetic sense:
What is this life if, full of care,Readers: Yeah, yeah — that's the one we want.
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as …..
… then there’s the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Version ….
Readers: That one will do too. Whatever. Just get on with it.
But I’m not thinking of either of these. No, I'm talking about life in the biological sense — what you see when you look at other people, dogs, trees, spiders, worms, flies. slugs and slime ... that sort of life.
Readers: Heaven preserve us.
And so the question is .... what is it exactly. What is life ?
(Some people, sensing an imminent plunge into something resembling a school chemistry lesson, might choose to get off at this point. If you are one of them then please don’t feel badly about it; it’s not like I’ll ever know. Just try to leave quietly without upsetting the others.)
I have been interested in this topic for a number of years. It would be reasonable to ask why.
Readers: Maybe — but do we really have to ?
I could talk about the books I have read, about theories and scientific disciplines but that would be to miss the essential thing, which is more to do with the sense of wonder we experience when we stand back and contemplate the mysterious world that surrounds us. And so it was in my case, initially through literature and film — and in particular, Stanislaw Lem’s book, Solaris and the later film adaptation by Andrei Tarkovsky — that I first caught a glimpse of the world seen as a stranger or innocent might see it.
In Lem’s story, the planet Solaris is so unfathomably complex that entire institutes are established, dedicated to the study of the bizarre and incomprehensible processes and structures observed on its surface. The consensus view is that the planet is effectively a single, sentient organism and, though this was some years before James Lovelock’s Gaia, it didn’t take a huge leap of the imagination to see that Solaris might easily be taken to stand for our own planet. In the film version Tarkovsky takes this a step further, in making it clear how those who have experienced the planet firsthand are irrevocably changed by the experience — being left with the sense that things formerly seen as ordinary or commonplace have taken on a quality of profound mystery.
Then sometime later, I was watching a wildlife documentary in which a flock of white birds, filmed from above, was flying over an empty landscape and I found myself thinking how Earth is a planet on which the basic building blocks of matter have mysteriously become alive to the extent that pieces can actually detach themselves from the surface and engage in all sorts of complex behaviours. In truth, Earth itself is a living planet - not just a planet with life on it, but a planet that is itself alive; seemingly unique among the other planets in the solar system; and, for all we know, in the entire universe.
In attempting to explain life, scientists — at least until recently — have had little to offer beyond the idea that, given sufficient time, the generation of a mind-boggling number of random combinations of molecules will eventually result in the accidental creation of one or more exquisite biological mechanisms, capable of self-organisation and replication.
Meanwhile, to people of faith, it is all down to the hand of God — it being utterly inconceivable that the rich tapestry of life could have come about by means of a mere lottery, however many rolls of the balls are allowed.
I find both of these views — which could respectively be labeled creationist and mechanistic — completely unsatisfactory, inasmuch as they regard the material world as oddly limited in its capacity to give rise to new forms and structures. In both scenarios, the laws of physics and chemistry are allowed to explain certain natural combinations: molecules, crystals — even amino acids (the building blocks of proteins) but it is as if, beyond a certain level of complexity, further structural elaboration is assumed to be implausible and something else has to be brought into play: either God or Dawkins’ blind watchmaker.
There is another alternative however: namely that it is in the nature of basic matter to assemble itself, first as simple and later more complex molecules, all the way up to the astounding nano-machines found in even the simplest cells and that this process entails a rich interplay of structure and environment — subject, all the while, to a number of simple rules. This is discussed in a recent book by Nick Lane: The Vital Question. As I have only a rudimentary understanding of chemistry, I have found the book fairly hard going and am still only around halfway through reading it, but it is inspiring to see the author explain how the fundamental processes found in the simplest bacterial forms of life might have come about almost inevitably, given the right environment.
Readers: so that’s what you spend your time thinking about …
Well not all my time exactly, but yes - and for no other reason than that I find this stuff seriously fascinating. And what’s more, it raises all sorts of interesting questions — for example:
Evolution would appear to account for the ‘endless forms’ in which life manifests itself, but the underlying mechanisms governing replication, respiration etc are virtually identical in all living species - even the most primitive. How did such mechanisms themselves evolve and why are there virtually no traces of alternative designs ?
Readers: Why indeed ?
And is life on earth unique or does it exist elsewhere in the universe?
Readers: Yes — that’s a good one and what’s the answer do you think ?
Ah - we might have to leave that till next time.
Readers: What? There’s more ?
Lots. We’ve barely scratched the surface
Monday, January 04, 2016
New Year's resolutions
I don’t normally do these — resolutions that is — but this year one just sort of popped up, namely:
Get on with it
It has the attraction of being fairly non-specific, while simultaneously addressing my main problem, namely a tendency to engage in wool gathering — which the dictionary defines as indulgence in aimless thought or dreamy imagining.
Anyway, while my New Year’s resolution has broad scope (being applicable to everything, from tidying the cellar to being more sociable), for you dear readers, the fruit will be dished up on these very pages. I have a number of topics waiting in the wings, including:
Buy-to-let
Identity theft
Bitcoin
What is Life?
… as well as a selection of lighthearted extracts from Horsley’s Over the Wall magazine.
If you have a particular preference as to which of these delicacies you would like to sample first, please let me know.
In the meantime, here’s wishing you a very happy (and productive) New Year
Get on with it
It has the attraction of being fairly non-specific, while simultaneously addressing my main problem, namely a tendency to engage in wool gathering — which the dictionary defines as indulgence in aimless thought or dreamy imagining.
Anyway, while my New Year’s resolution has broad scope (being applicable to everything, from tidying the cellar to being more sociable), for you dear readers, the fruit will be dished up on these very pages. I have a number of topics waiting in the wings, including:
Buy-to-let
Identity theft
Bitcoin
What is Life?
… as well as a selection of lighthearted extracts from Horsley’s Over the Wall magazine.
If you have a particular preference as to which of these delicacies you would like to sample first, please let me know.
In the meantime, here’s wishing you a very happy (and productive) New Year
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)