Prologue
The voice on the radio said Israel had launched an attack on a base deep inside Syrian territory. There were no more details. Nothing about the time, methods. What was hit, if anyone was killed. It was 11am and no one knew anything. I knew only enough to feel light-headed with worry.
I really had something else on my mind. I was trying to work out if I was in love with a girl I know and had seen again for the first time in a long time, beautiful and honest in a red dress. But there´s no place for those thoughts.
Things that were already worse just took a turn for the worse. We are all headfirst on the downslope and it´s getting steeper.
Slide
I thought ´the war is on´ and drove home to see what CNN and the BBC had to say. To get some idea of how hard and fast this was going to come. But few details there either, just matter-of-fact reports that it was a ´terrorist´ training camp destroyed, that Israel had the right to defend itself. Reminders of the previous night´s mass murder by a suicide bomber. I watched for a while but soon realised I was learning nothing.
I spoke to a police officer who said they were told by anti-terrorist special branch officers that the families of Palestinian militants were paid $1million by Saddam Hussein as a way of encouraging attacks on Israel. I knew the numbers were wrong but I didn´t argue with him. He´s a heavy drinker and I didn´t want to waste my time and end up in a fight I´d lose. I wandered off.
And then I was on the road, driving north for hours to Blackpool and the hotel room that will be my home for the next week. For the Tory party conference.
Five hours on the road. A stop on the motorway services and an uncomfortable hour of sleep in the afternoon, curled up in the warmth of the car. Outside, this raining autumn day, breath condensing in the air. Dark when I arrived in town, to be hit by a foul wind coming straight in off the Irish Sea.
There was nothing else to do but sit around and talk to other journalists about politics. The kind of introverted discussion that quickly reached a conclusion that the Conservative party is routed, doomed and failing ever more deeply. Iain Duncan Smith a mockery, hollow and fragile. But no one else there to replace him even though the party knows he is condemning them to the wilderness.
Iain Duncan Smith, a man so right wing even the dominantly right-wing British public can´t stand him.
Besides, the Labour government has made moderate conservatism its own. The actual Conservative party rendered obsolete.
The polls said it clearly. As the conference opened, with Duncan Smith voicing absurdities like "we´re heading for government", Sky news showed 14 per cent of their survey group thought he´d make the best PM. Blair was rated top by 35 per cent. But the real nightmare for the Tories; Charles Kennedy, the Liberal Democrat leader, was thought best by 22 per cent.
That morning´s Independent newspaper carried a front page poll; results indicating a majority now saw the Lib Dems as the main opposition to Labour.
I muttered to one Westminster hack - one of the genuine reporters with an interest in what is actually happening rather than meeting his masters´ agenda - about the Conservatives being nothing more than a regional pressure group, rather than a national political party. I think Blair said something like that the week before. Anyway, the hack agreed.
Sunday, and Robin Cook´s diary appeared in the Times. Revelations that Tony Blair knew Iraq did not have weapons of mass destruction. Knew it posed no threat to British interests but carried on all the same with the war.
Claims the Prime Minister misled parliament - among the most serious charges you can level at a PM and certainly a resignation matter - by not admitting all he knew.
Another heavy blow to a government that should have lost every shred of credibility over its conduct. Over the lies and the almighty mess that is getting ever messier in the Middle East.
But Sky News poll said it clearly: Iraq is the most important political issue to five per cent of voters. 57 per cent say Iain Duncan Smith is not the best person to lead the Tories. Only 15 per cent say the Tories are in a better state than they were in 1997 when they were swamped in an historic and unexpected Labour landslide.
Epilogue
The wind is so strong it´s hard to walk. The most powerful storm I remember. I mentioned it to the night watchman at the hotel. "It´s always like this in the autumn. And it is conference. It´s always like this at conference. It´ll get worse."
I realised then that God is merciful. Politicians in town, politicians certainly among the worst in the country. And He had thrown up a storm to meet them. Cruel seas, stinging rain, battering wind.
But it could have been so much worse. A just God, a God of vengeance would have waited for everyone to arrive, and destroyed the whole fucking town in a hail of fire and venom.
And then He would have rested, happy in His work.
Monday, October 06, 2003
Saturday, October 04, 2003
Sinking
PROLOGUE
He’d made that "no reverse gear" speech and then walked out of the international centre in Bournemouth. His wife was with him and they both waved at the fans, for the cameras. He was smiling and I tried to notice whether he looked like a lying criminal, but really he was too far away for anything like that. His suit was well cut.
And there was a blonde. I don’t know who she was, but she was tall and slim and beautiful. She shook hands with Tony Blair and then followed him up the hill. I can´t think what she was doing there, dressed in white.
I asked some people who she was, but no one seemed to know. I decided I´d just made her up.
SINK IT
It’s difficult to know what to say. I feel like I haven’t eaten or slept for days. I can feel my body deteriorating. The Labour Party conference is nearly over, but not nearly enough.
Nothing fits together or makes any sense. I have some notes, scrawled in different places, sometimes on the newspapers that lay all over the floor in my nasty little hotel room. The room with a TV that doesn’t work properly. With the banging doors, stale air and no heating.
The notes were obviously written by an agitated person. The handwriting is mine:
“We must try only to escape with our lives. Armoured cars, heavy weaponry, cut-throats, police with guns. No reason, just action.
Some form of survival is the best we can hope for now. Women and children last. Leave the wounded, and anyone who won´t give you money, behind.”
“Royal Navy sink Argentine ship during Falklands war. International waters, illegal attack. Many dead. 1983. Tory MP Alan Clark said ‘So what does it matter where it was when it was hit? We could have sunk it if it’d been tied up on the quayside in a neutral port and everyone would still have been delighted.”
“Man arrested at Labour Party conference after trying to perform citizens arrest on Blair for war crimes.”
“Poll shows majority believe Blair lied over Iraq but also want him to stay in office.”
"Blair says ´trust me´."
There are more notes in my flip pad, things I wrote while watching the Rt Hon Tony Blair give his tear-jerking speech to the party.
I remember there was a big screen listing the greatest achievements of his government. Money for this and that and legislation and reform and low inflation and more shit jobs for more people than ever before. No mention of the five wars in six years. No mention of Iraq. He claims it is a country freed from the tyranny of an evil dictator, a real threat to the world erased. A population liberated. A proud achievement. Why isn´t it on the list?
The notes, in no particular order;
"Too much clapping, no one capable of thought is also capable of banging their hands together so long, adjusting their style for to lessen the pain. Stupid people walked again and again into a wall. A bad sign. Do they believe this shit? Did I really hear them clapping for ID cards? Did I hear them clapping for a war that killed thousands?"
"Scripted emotion, worked out in minute detail over weeks. A sales pitch. Rhetorical tricks. A card sharp using a letter from the mother of a dead boy as his ace."
"Another warning sign; this man is capable of manipulating the emotions of his audience, a very dangerous thing, worse than breathing out poison. Just how dangerous is he?"
"No apology for the war. The war is clapped. I´ve never seen people applauding a war before. It´s a strange thing to see and says something about the morality of the tribe. Implications I don´t want to think of."
"Promise to change, promise to listen to the people. But knowing he wants things and will do what is necessary to get it. Listen and then agree."
"Woman spectator says ´it´s quite humbling really. I bet she clapped the ID cards, the war, and stifled a sob at the death bit. Like a good film. Trash. Poor value unless you´re a fool, in which case you deserve what you´re getting."
"What happened in this hall today is unspeakable. I would prefer not to have seen it."
That was all a few days ago now, and I´ve already forgotten the details of the speech. It was never something to remember, surely not even for the faithful. Just lots of dressed-up emptiness. People won´t talk about that ´no reverse gear´ moment at the 2003 conference. They won´t remember what they were wearing. They won´t even remember where they were when they heard it. It is already disappeared words.
And that means it was a speech that defined an era - a Prime Minister who misled his nation into war and who refused to apologise even when exposed by the evidence. And a party - a country - that not only forgave him his sins, but applauded them.
It defined a era in which a man of no particular ideology or substance can be presented - and accepted - as a man of vision and depth. It defined an era in which a Prime Minister says ´trust me´ and people take him at his word. It defined an era in which murder is acceptable as long as it´s committed somewhere far away.
Most of all it proved that, in an era in which we all have access to more factual information than ever before - more chance to see the truth - the overwhelming majority either ignore it totally or accept it but hold no one to account.
EPILOGUE
Tony Blair will be the Prime Minister for a long time yet. A sex scandal or massive recession would bring him down, but there is no prospect of the former and the latter is just another maybe that´s worth him gambling on avoiding.
Where will he take us? How close will we follow the US, and where are they heading? Bush is starting to face questions at home about dead GIs, multi-billion dollar bills and the absence of WMD. Will this put him off Syria and Korea and God only knows where else?
But Tony Blair is here to stay. He is a leader for times like this. The perfect man for a country that gets all it deserves. No more, no less.
I think I imagined the blonde to help me cope. Day dreaming of an angel.
He’d made that "no reverse gear" speech and then walked out of the international centre in Bournemouth. His wife was with him and they both waved at the fans, for the cameras. He was smiling and I tried to notice whether he looked like a lying criminal, but really he was too far away for anything like that. His suit was well cut.
And there was a blonde. I don’t know who she was, but she was tall and slim and beautiful. She shook hands with Tony Blair and then followed him up the hill. I can´t think what she was doing there, dressed in white.
I asked some people who she was, but no one seemed to know. I decided I´d just made her up.
SINK IT
It’s difficult to know what to say. I feel like I haven’t eaten or slept for days. I can feel my body deteriorating. The Labour Party conference is nearly over, but not nearly enough.
Nothing fits together or makes any sense. I have some notes, scrawled in different places, sometimes on the newspapers that lay all over the floor in my nasty little hotel room. The room with a TV that doesn’t work properly. With the banging doors, stale air and no heating.
The notes were obviously written by an agitated person. The handwriting is mine:
“We must try only to escape with our lives. Armoured cars, heavy weaponry, cut-throats, police with guns. No reason, just action.
Some form of survival is the best we can hope for now. Women and children last. Leave the wounded, and anyone who won´t give you money, behind.”
“Royal Navy sink Argentine ship during Falklands war. International waters, illegal attack. Many dead. 1983. Tory MP Alan Clark said ‘So what does it matter where it was when it was hit? We could have sunk it if it’d been tied up on the quayside in a neutral port and everyone would still have been delighted.”
“Man arrested at Labour Party conference after trying to perform citizens arrest on Blair for war crimes.”
“Poll shows majority believe Blair lied over Iraq but also want him to stay in office.”
"Blair says ´trust me´."
There are more notes in my flip pad, things I wrote while watching the Rt Hon Tony Blair give his tear-jerking speech to the party.
I remember there was a big screen listing the greatest achievements of his government. Money for this and that and legislation and reform and low inflation and more shit jobs for more people than ever before. No mention of the five wars in six years. No mention of Iraq. He claims it is a country freed from the tyranny of an evil dictator, a real threat to the world erased. A population liberated. A proud achievement. Why isn´t it on the list?
The notes, in no particular order;
"Too much clapping, no one capable of thought is also capable of banging their hands together so long, adjusting their style for to lessen the pain. Stupid people walked again and again into a wall. A bad sign. Do they believe this shit? Did I really hear them clapping for ID cards? Did I hear them clapping for a war that killed thousands?"
"Scripted emotion, worked out in minute detail over weeks. A sales pitch. Rhetorical tricks. A card sharp using a letter from the mother of a dead boy as his ace."
"Another warning sign; this man is capable of manipulating the emotions of his audience, a very dangerous thing, worse than breathing out poison. Just how dangerous is he?"
"No apology for the war. The war is clapped. I´ve never seen people applauding a war before. It´s a strange thing to see and says something about the morality of the tribe. Implications I don´t want to think of."
"Promise to change, promise to listen to the people. But knowing he wants things and will do what is necessary to get it. Listen and then agree."
"Woman spectator says ´it´s quite humbling really. I bet she clapped the ID cards, the war, and stifled a sob at the death bit. Like a good film. Trash. Poor value unless you´re a fool, in which case you deserve what you´re getting."
"What happened in this hall today is unspeakable. I would prefer not to have seen it."
That was all a few days ago now, and I´ve already forgotten the details of the speech. It was never something to remember, surely not even for the faithful. Just lots of dressed-up emptiness. People won´t talk about that ´no reverse gear´ moment at the 2003 conference. They won´t remember what they were wearing. They won´t even remember where they were when they heard it. It is already disappeared words.
And that means it was a speech that defined an era - a Prime Minister who misled his nation into war and who refused to apologise even when exposed by the evidence. And a party - a country - that not only forgave him his sins, but applauded them.
It defined a era in which a man of no particular ideology or substance can be presented - and accepted - as a man of vision and depth. It defined an era in which a Prime Minister says ´trust me´ and people take him at his word. It defined an era in which murder is acceptable as long as it´s committed somewhere far away.
Most of all it proved that, in an era in which we all have access to more factual information than ever before - more chance to see the truth - the overwhelming majority either ignore it totally or accept it but hold no one to account.
EPILOGUE
Tony Blair will be the Prime Minister for a long time yet. A sex scandal or massive recession would bring him down, but there is no prospect of the former and the latter is just another maybe that´s worth him gambling on avoiding.
Where will he take us? How close will we follow the US, and where are they heading? Bush is starting to face questions at home about dead GIs, multi-billion dollar bills and the absence of WMD. Will this put him off Syria and Korea and God only knows where else?
But Tony Blair is here to stay. He is a leader for times like this. The perfect man for a country that gets all it deserves. No more, no less.
I think I imagined the blonde to help me cope. Day dreaming of an angel.
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
Slogan
Prologue
Yesterday, more than anything and more than ever, I hated politics. The dumb rhetoric. The stupid tribal loyalties. The over eager selling. The absurd simplification of everything to meaninglessness. The knowing what´s best for everyone else, even when they´re telling you to stop because it hurts.
And worst of all - the very worst, the most burningly arsehole thing about it all - the empty slogans.
Hatred
Yesterday I despised the very thought of ´progress´. The belief that somehow things can ´get better´ by design made me sick and angry.
It was the kind of frightening clarity and dumb hatred a person can only experience at a party conference, totally surrounded by Minions. Minions; there to hear themselves talk about themselves and how right they are.
Forget talks of splits and infighting, that´s all a minor sideshow, something to do to pass spare time.
The main event is a gruesome orgy of self-gratification and tedious repetition. Designed to kill thought. More damaging to brain cells than any cocktail of drink, drugs and heavy blows to the skull.
There is enough crude propaganda here to make any clear headed person want to flee, or at least scream for mercy. The full scale of it is hard to convey. Self-congratulation. Dense jargon. Dense people. Badges. Those idiot fucking slogans.
I´m at the Labour Party conference ("Labour means fairness", "a future fair for everyone" continue ad nauseam), but that is only part of the story. Yeah, power makes them automatically worse and more threatening to our collective well-being than the other parties, in the way a cop with a gun is potentially more lethal than one with a Billy club.
But the same basic truths held at the Liberal Democrat conference. And, even though I´m a professional and like to reserve judgment until I see it with my own eyes, I´m sure the Tory effort in Blackpool next week will be the most horrific of a horrifing bunch.
The Lib Dems and Tories may both be fringe parties with minor followings, but you must still be afraid, especially at conference: a Billy club hurts bad enough if you aim for the right body parts and get the timing on with a nice, hard swing. You don´t need a gun, it´s just faster and makes the killer feel cleaner.
Those damned slogans. The posters. The free pens. The willfull blindness to failure and falsehood.
Yesterday, I knew why so few people bother to vote. And I realised – suffocating there beneath the tide of minions - that apathy was the solution not the problem.
Listen to a politician - of any party - and they´ll bemoan falling voter participation in elections. I used to see their point but now I´ve been to the sixth circle of this hell and I realise they are naturally deluded. It is clear to me now that it must always be assumed that a policitian is wrong unless they can prove beyond all reasonable doubt they are right.
That´s the level of certainty you need to convict someone in a criminal court, and it should apply to these people. Few would ever pass the test.
Caring Conservatives - Radical Reform - Progressive government
So, it is as instinctive for a politician to call for more people to take part in elections as it is for a businessman to argue for more profit. Or maybe a better way of putting it is to say; it´s as natural as the Pope arguing you ought to worship God, but have to go through him as a middle-man.
Politicians make trouble, then other politicians come to clear it away, breaking something else in the process. Making another problem for themselves - as a breed - to solve. Eventually you just forget the first damn thing was caused by one of these people and you let them sell you the high priced solution to the problem they created.
The gardener is weeding and planting weeds at the same time. A nice way to earn a living, but it makes him a bastard all the same.
Self-interest. Self-preservation. Ignorance. Greed. Expedience. Half-truths. Obfruscation. The populist appeal.
Smiles. Waves. Handshakes.
Baby Kissing. Power
Epilogue
Yesterday I hated politics, but the feeling passes. The knowledge of hating it stays, but the unbearable feeling of disgust leaves. A self-defence mechanism.
But apathy is still the only answer. Total political apathy across the entire population would starve the fire of oxygen.
I don´t know what that would leave, or what would fill the vacuum, but it must be worth a try. And maybe we´ll all soon get a look. Apathy is the future.
Yesterday, more than anything and more than ever, I hated politics. The dumb rhetoric. The stupid tribal loyalties. The over eager selling. The absurd simplification of everything to meaninglessness. The knowing what´s best for everyone else, even when they´re telling you to stop because it hurts.
And worst of all - the very worst, the most burningly arsehole thing about it all - the empty slogans.
Hatred
Yesterday I despised the very thought of ´progress´. The belief that somehow things can ´get better´ by design made me sick and angry.
It was the kind of frightening clarity and dumb hatred a person can only experience at a party conference, totally surrounded by Minions. Minions; there to hear themselves talk about themselves and how right they are.
Forget talks of splits and infighting, that´s all a minor sideshow, something to do to pass spare time.
The main event is a gruesome orgy of self-gratification and tedious repetition. Designed to kill thought. More damaging to brain cells than any cocktail of drink, drugs and heavy blows to the skull.
There is enough crude propaganda here to make any clear headed person want to flee, or at least scream for mercy. The full scale of it is hard to convey. Self-congratulation. Dense jargon. Dense people. Badges. Those idiot fucking slogans.
I´m at the Labour Party conference ("Labour means fairness", "a future fair for everyone" continue ad nauseam), but that is only part of the story. Yeah, power makes them automatically worse and more threatening to our collective well-being than the other parties, in the way a cop with a gun is potentially more lethal than one with a Billy club.
But the same basic truths held at the Liberal Democrat conference. And, even though I´m a professional and like to reserve judgment until I see it with my own eyes, I´m sure the Tory effort in Blackpool next week will be the most horrific of a horrifing bunch.
The Lib Dems and Tories may both be fringe parties with minor followings, but you must still be afraid, especially at conference: a Billy club hurts bad enough if you aim for the right body parts and get the timing on with a nice, hard swing. You don´t need a gun, it´s just faster and makes the killer feel cleaner.
Those damned slogans. The posters. The free pens. The willfull blindness to failure and falsehood.
Yesterday, I knew why so few people bother to vote. And I realised – suffocating there beneath the tide of minions - that apathy was the solution not the problem.
Listen to a politician - of any party - and they´ll bemoan falling voter participation in elections. I used to see their point but now I´ve been to the sixth circle of this hell and I realise they are naturally deluded. It is clear to me now that it must always be assumed that a policitian is wrong unless they can prove beyond all reasonable doubt they are right.
That´s the level of certainty you need to convict someone in a criminal court, and it should apply to these people. Few would ever pass the test.
Caring Conservatives - Radical Reform - Progressive government
So, it is as instinctive for a politician to call for more people to take part in elections as it is for a businessman to argue for more profit. Or maybe a better way of putting it is to say; it´s as natural as the Pope arguing you ought to worship God, but have to go through him as a middle-man.
Politicians make trouble, then other politicians come to clear it away, breaking something else in the process. Making another problem for themselves - as a breed - to solve. Eventually you just forget the first damn thing was caused by one of these people and you let them sell you the high priced solution to the problem they created.
The gardener is weeding and planting weeds at the same time. A nice way to earn a living, but it makes him a bastard all the same.
Self-interest. Self-preservation. Ignorance. Greed. Expedience. Half-truths. Obfruscation. The populist appeal.
Smiles. Waves. Handshakes.
Baby Kissing. Power
Epilogue
Yesterday I hated politics, but the feeling passes. The knowledge of hating it stays, but the unbearable feeling of disgust leaves. A self-defence mechanism.
But apathy is still the only answer. Total political apathy across the entire population would starve the fire of oxygen.
I don´t know what that would leave, or what would fill the vacuum, but it must be worth a try. And maybe we´ll all soon get a look. Apathy is the future.
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