13/8/06

Sunday – a final wash of righteousness left over from the Convention appears at the cusp of the river where it charges under the stone bridge, but other than that this one is very different –

It starts with a meteor shower around 2a.m. and a vivid half moon still screaming amid clouds which have the appearance of silver-rimmed animations; there are some folk out watching through bins and teles on the crests of hills overlooking the lake – a few are short on patience and wait maybe ten minutes or so before heading off home again having seen no more than satellites in orbit and the odd shooting star. The real sky freaks wait all night and their patience is well rewarded – heavenly blues and greens where the things enter the atmosphere, streaking through and leaving a stain on the sky and the same on the nervous systems of the onlookers and other inhabitants –

In town there’s blood in the alley behind the chip-shop where a fight took place – they haven’t seen the like for years – and the paramedics had to give aid to the concussed. Arnold blamed it on a loud mouth but witnesses said something queer seemed to come over him, like he was possessed, and he just began peppering the lad with his fists; then he took off in the direction of the river -

At dawn time is held in check, you can see it happen if you’re lucky and the market square revels in silence, lingering in its nostalgia for the quiet months before the onset of the daily invasion – the bin men sing lines from Dire Straits songs: Hey girl your boyfriend’s back - And then the growling begins, like the earth has decided to open up and throw what it doesn’t want to keep back out onto this plane; and on they come, all the hundreds in their cars and their campers and their coach loads and they swell and bloom, eager to consume, eat and destroy; to feast on as much of this place as they can in a day, to do everything in haste and blind folly –

Omens? - a golden retriever stained with green ink in its fur; closely followed by total power cut across town -

And then the Hell’s Angels come – their bikes pressed into the narrow street at the top end of the square and lined up on display outside The Dog and Gun – leather clad peacocks enjoying the attention they garner; the looks of shock and fear from some passers-by and enthralled amazement from others – Angels are always a throwback to a time gone by, approximately 1972, I never see today in them even though their bikes have changed – one Harley here has a built in stereo system that chucks out thunder rock just to keep the image whole – but it’s as if they are theme park additions themselves now; a kind of social joke, they look impressive but there’s not much to them any more, nothing radical (to quote the zeitgeist) –

I think on it this morning, the urgent zeitgeist; walking through this safe haven for the moderate lifers of northern England and the comely Yanks and the Dutch shoppers seeming to be drawn by some magnet that is Keswick; and I have to wonder why these people and the authorities act so amazed when they ask why these young ‘Muslims’ are angry enough to kill innocent civilians etc etc. There’s an odd tone to the reporting of this latest ‘terror plot’, a tone that suggests we are deep down still stuck with a 1950’s reality of what Britain should be; a nostalgia that surfaces in times of crisis which leads us to be so dumbfounded that such actions are being planned or that the terrorists had the gall to procure such resources necessary. A kind of collective Margot Leadbetter voice saying: ‘Oh, how dare they! I mean what have we done to offend them?’ I want to say that the authorities must be dumb if they think they are facing an enemy that won’t try outwitting them at every turn. That is the point of war is it not? And the authorities, at the instigation of President Blair, should be aware of that. We are at war after all, even if we weren’t before the invasion of Iraq. Perhaps his government simply doesn’t want us to panic, that if we keep the traditional stiff-upper lip all will eventually be well. But I believe that they are even kidding themselves. They, the government, have failed to make us more secure; they have failed utterly to do so and have brought the war home to us -

Everyone is asking: what radicalises these young people? That’s the wrong question. I can dig into my own past and in all probability many people’s pasts, including some members of the current ‘leadership’. The history of radicalised youth is not unique to one era or one section of society; and ironically it is a powerful product of ‘freedom’. However, freedom has (always was?) become a state of being for a very limited few. Freedom brings great powerlessness to the underprivileged and the ostracised. This realisation is often fuelled by the accompanying disorientation of early adolescence or adulthood, when one is thrashing around, seeking to belong, to find some foundation for one’s being in a world where things shift all the time and you can’t seem to get a key on it to begin your life. Often one settles on what is most appealing to one’s anti-establishment energy – in my case it was nuclear disarmament, animal rights, road protests and the poll tax; those were issues of the times when I hit my late teens, they affected me so I protested. More importantly they gave me a voice, a reason to be me. Which in some ways is one step removed from the motivations of a martyr. One learns to challenge what one finds offensive and in so doing begins to form opinions which inform the burgeoning adult self and make us what we are -

Words, and their true meaning, are becoming increasingly important. Bush has already changed the dictionary definition of the word ‘freedom’ – it should now read: ‘that state of being declared free by the elected governments of the west provided it conforms to their notion of political, religious and social responsibility’. If we make people afraid of the word ‘radical’ which we are doing by bandying it around in conjunction with the word ‘terror’ we are in danger of losing our right to speak out and to protest - placating the western governments attacks on liberty and freedom of speech, bowing to their ever-increasing paranoia. Orwell must be turning in his grave -

The real question that we should be ask (and government, though they are ineffective when it comes to social problems) and in the media is ‘what makes these men succumb to violence?’ It is not simply religious faith. That is too easy and too dangerous a reason – if we believe that then only persecution can come. No; violence is fashionable. You only have to turn on the news. Violence is perpetrated on young and old alike. It is an acquired belief supported by government hypocrisy and it makes the powerless angry. If someone threatens or harm someone you love then what will be the natural response? You will inevitably be angry and wish to attack them in return. It is the simple cycle of violence. Like I’ve said before, this is not rocket science. And yet the government stands incredulous when it ‘discovers’ so called potential terror threats among us. It is nothing to do with being British and everything to do with cause and effect. Violence gives the veneer of power to the violent; and it is addictive. But of course short-lived; like any addiction it’s need must be placated -

I’m a lucky man. For me the day ends in a beautiful meadow surrounded by swallows weaving through the air in low-flight patterns, switching back on themselves, darting over the nearby river which burbles like all good rivers should. Playing, eating, drinking and socialising with a group of mild-mannered people whose only concern is how to sort out a Frisbee throwing contest. I don’t have to deal with blood on my doorstep. Yet.