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drtpt · 6 years ago

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Pragmatism vs. Puritanism: Legalising Brothels in the UK

Brothels, houses of ill-repute, pleasure palaces, cathedrals to the carnal, call them what you wish, these establishments have, in one guise or another, been around through the ages, as they are today.

Just as the exchange of monies for sexual favours, (an almost literal quid(s) pro quo, if you will pardon the dark humour) between consenting adults is by no means an innovation, nor is the raging debate about the legality, or legalities of this oldest of professions.

Whether working in the industry, or a customer of it, opinions vary from age to age, country to country, region to region. Influenced by political persuasions, moral objections, and a myriad of other convictions, people rarely vacillate on the question of permitting, and ultimately legalising brothels in the UK.

It’s a polarising question, not a unifying one. Or perhaps it is a puritan versus pragmatist joust, with both factions believing vehemently in the strength of their own perspicacity.

For many, pragmatism laced with logic will almost always emerge victorious; but, for the pious, it seems that the lofty apex of their moral high ground is a position they will never willingly relinquish, a perch from which the view is apparently glorious. I’ll have to take their word for that.

We’ve heard many of the arguments before, to the point where they appear trite and repetitive: Legalise it for health, safety and social reasons, do so for taxation purposes, do so to ensure regulatory control of an industry that is otherwise underground and without any such regulation, or simply allow brothels to be legalised, as in other countries, as a show of social progression and acceptance. The list of arguments goes on.

But does these continued verbal entanglements render any of the tabled positions or notions less valid? Can we decide whether this is an ethical debate, an economic concern, or merely a personal and social question for each individual.

To some, there is still a vibrant and vigorous discussion to to be undertaken, legally speaking, some a priori, others a posteriori; to others the issue is nothing more than a debating society topic, rather than anything that should be entertained within the halls of Westminster, where any such decision would be decided and passed to the Lords, thereafter to be scribed into law.

From a dispassionate position, both sides may, prima facie, appear or claim hold water, at least in terms of logic, liberalism, and the law, and clearly the zealous fervour exhibited by each side of the opinion divide is clearly undiluted.

But does passion have anything to do with the question itself, should we legalise brothels in the UK?

Simply put, in terms of passion meaning validity, vigour denoting veracity, or conviction translating to correctness, not really.

For those who champion the legalisation of brothels, permitting and protecting them under the law, their position seems reasonable, realistic, and in keeping with the social mores of the time, a recognition of the reality of the sex trade, rather than an attempt to decry or ig- nore it. To opponents of legalising brothels, the moral objections, whatever the essence of the morality is inspired by (religion, politics, etc.), seem equally, if not more reliable in terms of their veracity.

With this question, as with others which weave their way through the moral maze, and in search of a legal legislation, personal perspicacity is something that is rarely conceded as being of less important than the opposing voices. Brothel legalisation in other countries now seems almost de rigueur, and to many in those nations, the question of why it took so long to implement, and why other nations do not follow that course, is a constant inquiry.

So, how do we disentangle the moral objections from the legally based ones, the personal preferences from the more societal considerations?

Well it’s not simple, but that said, when was the debate about legalising brothels in the UK it ever even considered to be anything less than utterly contentious? The absence of such a debate in parliament, notwithstanding the current legislative gridlock, (for some reason or another, can’t think what the politicos may be discussing...) may speak volumes. With so many other issues, the sex industry, and the specific question of brothels being legalised, is simply not on the docket.

Sadly, for those who work in, and believe that this profession demands as much protection under the law as any other, this inertia is frustrating and infuriating.

I, for one, cannot resolve this argument in the mind of those on either side of the debate, let alone offer any influence in terms of the legal wrangle. My position is steadfast, but my ability to displace the views of others is not always as equable.

What I can do, however, is acknowledge that, whether one believes in permitting and le- galising brothels in the UK, or whether one does not sanction any such thing, the discus- sion itself will likely never burn out, any more than the profession itself or the establish- ments at the centre of it all.

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drtpt · 10 years ago

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Death by Religious Piety. For shame.

Earlier this week, I had to edit an online news story, the specifics of which repulsed, disgusted and disturbed me. It is an incident that exposes behaviour which insults my most basic integrity, beliefs and ethics as a humanist. My outrage at this story is unfettered and my forthcoming obloquy is uncensored, something for which I offer no apology. It is also a news story which has inspired discussions about medical responsibility, morality, catholic fanaticism, religious fundamentalism and other attendent ethical inquiry.

This whole sorry issue, on which I will expound shortly, reminds me of a debate I once attended in London. In questioning whether catholic intervention in secular matters was a force for good, Christopher Hitchens asked the question which should surely be asked in the case in hand: “Who would do such evil things if it were not due to a belief that they had a divine warrant?”. Remember that as you read on.

The story to which I refer was about a woman in Ireland who died in hospital at the end of October. Prima facie, that is, sadly, not ‘news’ in itself. The specifics, however, render it not only newsworthy, but controversial and outrage inspiring, at least to the rational amongst us. This lady did not die of cancer, cardiac distress, natural causes or one of the other 'usual suspects’ when it comes to mortality. Instead, Ms. Halappanavar, a 31 year old dentist, originally from India and pregnant for the first time, died of septicaemia.

Just to clarify a few more of the disturbing facts of this case. This tragedy did not occur in a third-world, backstreet, illegal clinic or sub-standard hospital. No. It happened in University Hospital, Galway, Ireland, a well-funded and ostensibly respected medical facility. In the hours before her death, Ms.Halappanavar had requested, as she had a week earlier, a termination due to severe back pain and the fear that she was already miscarrying or in immediate danger of doing so. She was told that she could not have a termination induced, even though miscarriage was inevitable, until the heartbeat of the foetus stopped.

According to trusted reports, this is what the attending medic gave her as a reason for this refusal: “This is Ireland and we are a catholic country”. After further complications, the foetal heartbeat did stop but it was too late and Ms Halappanavar died.

As you can imagine, there is an enormous amount of outrage from some quarters and the sad, but inevitable defence of the catholic doctrine from the religiously devout and, in their own cerebral conception, morally superior. Naturally, it has opened up yet another debate about the personal autonomy of women and the role of societal legislation in such matters. It still strikes me as regressive that this still requires debate in civilized societies.

Freedom of choice for women appertaining to abortion and childbirth should be enshrined in an unshakable law and entirely unresponsive to objections from the faith based community. In most civilised societies, this is the case. People of religious persuasions are, naturally, entitled to their faith. What they should not be afforded the warrant to do, however, is impose such doctrinal convictions on others, especially in the medical arena. Yet again, however, the godly seem to have had far too influential a role in legislative decision making.

The death of this innocent lady is yet another case that highlights the misguided nature of harmful, evil religious fundamentalism and the detriment it imposes on progress.

Just to make it absolutely clear before I proceed further, I am an atheist. That said, I in no way claim that my lack of belief is morally superior. Nor do I claim that I know, to a certainty, that there is no god. I just don’t believe there is a god or gods or see evidence to convince me otherwise. Regardless of any belief (or lack of belief in my case) one embraces, human decency is human decency, regardless of the moral motivation that inspires it.

Personally, I neither believe in nor have the desire to believe in an ecclesiastical dictatorship. When I see the vile and fatal actions of this catholic doctor, such a position is strengthened. An unchallengeable, unmovable, everlasting and oddly capricious regime which condemns me for not believing the existence of such a deity on no evidence whatsoever just doesn’t appeal, not to mention that it accepts the threat of conviction for thought crime, the essence of a totalitarian regime. No Pascal’s Wager for me, thank you very much.

Even so, I have no desire to force this lack of belief on anyone else, I merely wish to promote science, reason, free thinking and a full appreciation of life without the need to be moral simply in order to attain eternal reward or for fear of everlasting punishment. The reason I am being so explicit on this point is to stress the importance of personal opinion rather than enforced ethics based on individual perspectives, a critical element in the case of Ms.Halappanavar. Incidentally, I was raised in the Protestant tradition and hold degrees in divinity and philosophy, so of all the charges against my opinion you may wish to level, ignorance cannot be one.

If you wish, you may subtract my atheism from the equation on this matter and try taking a look at it from a nominally neutral perspective. In doing so, I am sure, and would hope, that most of you would still, on a basic humanist level, see this tragic loss of a life as representing an outrageous, protest worthy action on behalf of the hospital.

Once again, we see the religious, self-appointed arbiters of morality and ethics and the sanctimoniously pious contribute to the death of an innocent person due to their supposed ecclesiastical mandate. Once more, with, sadly, many a historical precedence, due to the deluded conviction that god is on their side, the godly act with an evil certainty. I should be very curious to know how these same people explained her death to her grieving husband and the specious reasoning as to why it had to be that way.

If, let us imagine, a Jewish doctor (known to already partake in ritualistic genital mutilation as mandated by their god) had denied the lady her requested termination due to her being a gentile, we would be up in arms and rightly so. This should be no different.

Let me clarify further. Much as I do not have a religious belief or a desire to embrace divinity or the numinous, I accept that it is entirely democratic and within the rights of the individual that such beliefs can be held. As Voltaire intoned, “I may disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it”. Indeed, I know many wonderful people who espouse spiritual convictions, cherish their religious devotion and live a decent life in the belief that it is inspired by the divine. Perhaps they are the true representatives of such faith. In fact, I suspect, that were I to poll these same, admirable people of faith, many of them would be appalled and affronted by this travesty committed under the banner of religious conviction.

When faith subjects others to suffering as non-believers due to the unsolicited imposition of unshared ecclesiastical convictions, however, at that point, I will never fail to take issue and will always defend against such dangerous, promiscuous proselytising.

Delusion that you are the subject of and interpreter for an intervening, intercessory god who demands incantations, propitiation and a relationship of eternal abjection is sad and illogical, but it is not a crime. When, however, any such belief or religious affiliation intervenes in and trespasses on the administration of medical treatment to the detriment of a patient, it breaches the boundary that should keep religious beliefs personal.

I have, in the past, offered a similar thesis and discourse when the offspring of Jehovah’s Witnesses die due to refusal of treatment. This sad loss is, therefore, not specifically about denomination, though that does come into it. Rather, it has inspired a wider debate on a seminal issue: defending and promoting basic moral decision making and the honest application of medical ethics whilst opposing the bigoted mindset that led, directly and incontrovertably, to a life being lost.

Regardless of religious beliefs, divine delusions or claims to know god’s will, medical treatment and intervention to save lives must never be compromised. This diatribe is not me trying to enforce a personal opinion, it is a critical element of the Hippocratic oath sworn by all medical practitioners. Furthermore, it is a basic facet of human decency that has been jettisoned here and all in favour of a zealous adherence to and application of a personal faith. For shame.

Ultimately, the personnel involved in this abhorrent abdication of humanity and dereliction of duty which has led to the loss of a life that could have been saved, need to be struck off. If any sanctions are more tolerant or forbearing in this case, it will send out an unforgivable message: that religious beliefs can determine your duty of care.

Think of that idea, in principle and practice, that such praxis were afforded leniency. Surely, it would pose an immediate danger that such a policy would pour encourager les autres. If you lay claim to being an honourable, thinking human being with a shred of decency and even a hint of an inquiring intellect, the very notion should scare, trouble, distress and agitate you.

Such flagrant abuse of position and repugnant rejection of human kindness based on a subjective theological doctrine should be punished and held up as entirely unacceptable in the eyes of the law. The belief that one has a divine warrant can never be allowed to determine the course of medical treatment.

Ex post facto this perverse and nefarious injunction based on religious beliefs, I would reiterate a point that I have often proffered while undertaking debates with people of faith: Human decency is not derived from religion, as is so often claimed, it precedes it. Our knowledge and ongoing advancements in the arena of science and medicine determine that deaths such as that of Ms.Halappanavar need not happen, let alone be predicated on the personal beliefs of the individuals charged with her care.

To conclude as I commenced, with a quote from the late, great Christopher Hitchens, “The person who is certain and who claims divine warrant for his certainly, surely belongs now to the infancy of our species”. I could not agree more and humbly suggest that it is time we started, without criminalizing religious belief itself, ensuring that any such canonical, theistic or sacerdotal affiliations have no hegemony in our society.

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drtpt · 12 years ago

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Losing touch with reality...

It was the English poet, romantic, cad, bounder and politician Lord George Gordon Byron that once intoned, “What is fame? The advantage of being known by people of whom you yourself know nothing and for whom you care just as little”. In a month which saw the return of “I’m a Celebrity” (among various other reality television shows to British and US television) these words seem as poignant, admissible and weighty as they were when first they were uttered. From the putrid, excruciating and talentless souls of The X Factor, Pop Idol and The Voice, to the even more deluded, humiliated and desperate has-been/never were simpletons attempting to resuscitate their terminally flailing fame in hideously debasing 'celebrity' filled jungle antics, I consider such outputs a blight on our largely worthy British television landscape. Furthermore, I categorize such déclassé, baseborn and raffish drivel to be nothing short of degrading and an insult to whatever intelligence I claim to be blessed or cursed with.

Before I proceed with what may well represent a missive filled with vitriolic diatribes, (if well researched and exquisitely explained) I should muster a disclaimer: I am in no way suggesting, promoting or exalting the notion of censorship and fully defend the right of creators to create and viewers to view whatever warms, entertains or tickles their fancy. There, I said it. Much as it pained me. As you were.

Thus, if you wish to carp, bellyache, whimper, grumble or snivel about my position on this, you are free to do so. I proffer no apology for being stridently fervent with my convictions nor do I harbour any desire to dulcify any subsequent or forthcoming objections.

I think it would be fair to say that reality television is a genre that polarizes opinion. Few people occupy the middle ground of nonchalance; on one side people tend to loathe, detest, abhor, execrate and castigate it as a malignant scourge that should be summarily ignored. In the opposing camp people love, venerate, adore, embrace and obsess about it with a ritualistic reverence and esteemed devotion that almost deifies comprehension. Naturally, you are all aware which of those parties would command my allegiance so there is no need to pose the question.

Let’s be clear about something: I am not installing myself as some kind of television tyrant or sociological sage, rather, I simply fail to comprehend why this genre is so unspeakably popular. Whether it is the celebrity or wannabee forms of such programs, they quite simply leave me cold at best or festering, bristling and seething with undiluted ire at worse. If you will allow me, or indeed if you protest, I shall outline a truncated list of my grievances on this matter. If I were to make such a missive exhaustive it would surely become stretched and elongated beyond the boundaries of this forum. When I was at the age of addressing, acknowledging and fashioning my hopes, aspirations and ambitions for my career, it was relatively simple as my options were two-fold: either plough on in the academic world and install myself at whichever University would have me, or enter the workforce. I feel no need to delineate, illuminate or explain further, it really was this straightforward. Education would invariably lead to jobs in the legal, medical, administrative, political, banking, teaching or researching worlds, to name but a few. My point is, we had dreams, hopes and designs that were intended to reflect our years of hard work when we were fortunate enough to realize them.

Naturally, such aspirations were merely a reflection of professional purpose, not our ‘other’ dreams of being published authors, renowned philosophers or outrageously capricious stars of stage and screen. Though there are many young people who still profess the desire and pursue the appropriate course to join the aforementioned career paths, reality TV of the X Factor/Britain’s got (a distinct lack of) Talent variety have created a new form of ‘ambition’. Warbling a previously loved tune or juggling monkeys while eating swords is now seen as a viable career path or an unguarded gateway to undeserved fame and fortune. If we were rewarding the truly talented (and I am sure there are those rare moments when true talent is unearthed, as even a stopped clock tells the correct time twice a day, so to say), I could almost accept it. What rankles, irritates and exasperates me, however, is our penchant for granting fame to all and sundry, especially those who are inexplicably afforded the dubious honour of extending their fleeting fame due to merely being on television. Furthermore, we insist on parading bewildered, dysfunctional troglodytes in front of judgmental, sanctimonious, self-satisfied millionaires who sneer, lambaste and fustigate them for national entertainment. It is nothing short of an unapologetic return to the days of the Victorian freak show. For shame. Then, lest we forget, we have the ‘celebrity’ versions of reality television. If the previous form discussed is nothing more than intellectually-bereft debris, this is almost more contemptible. People whose flame of fame is fading out shamelessly attempting to rekindle their already questionable hour of power. Pathetic, pitiable, deplorable, grotty, rueful and lamentable only serves to begin to describe these prisoners of their own ego. To call them second-rate would be a generous promotion but clearly, they are intoxicated by their own screen persona and, sadly, viewers are equally enchanted. I despair. Ultimately, people argue that reality television is harmless. Maybe it is. I beg leave to disagree. When this putrid, squalid genre infiltrates society to the point of obsession, shapes career ambitions and offers even the most negligible chance of instant, superficial fame, I would argue that it is, at least in part and on deeper examination, somewhat detrimental to our nation. Yes, it entertains, but it also warps, distorts and desecrates our notion of ‘reality’, not to mention our concept of superb, glorious, noble, elegant and august television programming of which there are still, thankfully, many laudable examples. My festering sense of displeasure with regard to reality television is clearly evident but, to borrow a more noble sentiment from a man with true talent, I’m not the only one. As the great poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow so delightfully ruminated, “The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well and doing well whatever you do without thought of fame. If it comes at all, it will come because it is deserved, not because it is sought after”. If only this were the case more often, if only…

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drtpt · 13 years ago

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Christopher Hitchens (1949-2011) Seven Years On.

Seven years ago today (December 2018), as of the day I publish this piece, we lost one of the finest minds, greatest orators and outspoken free thinkers of a generation. Throughout his life and career, he was one of the most dedicated, ferocious opponents of religion, injustice and ignorance. Never did he let the religious or political zealots set on proselytizing and condemning, scare, divert or weaken his position. Never did he dilute his rhetoric to accommodate bigots or avoid criticism. Such integrity is admirable, rare and to be respected, regardless of other considerations.

Christopher Hitchens was, quite simply, one of a kind. He was a fierce, unrelenting opponent of tyrants, including god, and an unmatched polemicist. At the time of his death, many obituaries were written, most finer than I could ever hope to pen. Even so, I feel compelled to register my respect and honour his memory by continuing to promote many of our shared ideologies.

This reflection is not intended as a necrology or eulogy. Rather, it is my own personal thank you to and encomium about a man for whom I have absolute respect and ongoing admiration. It is also a look at some of the ideas I shared with him, even if my ability to express, compile and publish them is distinctly inferior. There is no shame in that.

One of the things often said about Hitchens was the fact that he was, more often than not, liked by those with whom he sparred, even when they considered his position to be "wrong". Tony Blair, Rabbi Boteach, Alistair McGrath, William Craig, Frank Turek, Barry Brummett and even Peter Hitchens, his anglican brother, to name but a few. All disagreed with him but all also respected him.

Naturally, there were those who had no such affection for Hitchens. That said, the calibre of these self-professed Hitch-haters was often so derisory that respect from them would have amounted to nothing. Step forward Henry Kissinger, Jerry Falwell and Al Sharpton, each of whom I consider to be evil frauds in much the same way they considered Hitchens unworthy of respect. At least he had integrity and did not lie to people for a living like those conscious charlatans, biblical hucksters and Elmer Gantry tribute acts.

Though he had these detractors, it is fair to say that his oft-respected, highly erudite opponents were sometimes unable to dispute the class of his withering criticisms and uncanny ability to dissect and destroy the arguments of some great minds. His consummate ability to counter, criticize and expose the flaws in religious dogma with reasoned, rational argument is the stuff of debating legend. Just one viewing of such a debate is enough to qualify this assertion. From Oxford to Harvard, New York to London and beyond, the halls of lucid debate and zealous dialectical reasoning will never quite be the same.

Without a doubt, and along with his friend and fellow atheist Stephen Fry, Christopher Hitchens would be atop any list of people with whom I would like to have shared a drink and commune in conversation.

His charisma alone ensured that even those philosophically and diametrically opposed to him were clearly in awe of his debating prowess. Add to this a profound knowledge and understanding of theology, doctrine, religious texts (often beyond that of his opponents, themselves trying to espouse the spiritual realm) and all the arguments for the existence of god on record and you will soon begin to appreciate just how intelligent he was.

As a fellow atheist, and though I did not have the honour of knowing "Hitch", I felt a loss when he died. Though not a personal loss or grief, it was the acknowledgement of a loss to the causes of free thought, rational inquiry, the pursuit of scientific truth and humanism. His expressions of atheism, dismantling of monotheism, loathing of and manifesto against religious bullying and unerring diatribes against ecclesiastical fascism are nothing short of an inspiration to me. To those who have no faith, he was and shall remain a beacon of brilliance.

To anti-theists such as myself, he was the intellectual leader of new atheism and one who, amidst all his zealous diatribes, offered hope of justice and the abolition of faith-based offences against humanity, science and free inquiry. Humanism personified. Such was his brilliance in the cauldrons of debate that few have ever matched his rigorous interrogations and subsequent destruction of religions of all stripes.

Christopher Hitchens had true intellectual courage and an ability to verbally destroy those who were brave or stupid enough to challenge him. That said, and having seen him in person, debating whether the catholic church was a force for good, I must also add that he was never churlish or offensive. His respect for people was evident even if his desire to challenge, contradict and disprove them was even more vehement. The fact that he was honest enough to castigate Mother Theresa and constantly expose the atrocities of catholic paedophiles, rapists and clerically ordained criminals will always be to his credit.

As one of the "four horsemen of new atheism" (Dawkins, Dennett and Harris being the other three), he led the charge for freedom and championed the notion that freedom of the mind was as critical and worthy as physical liberty.

When I first started reading his works many years ago, it was a true education. From his exquisite turns of phrases to the most magnificent, systematic deconstruction of ancient texts and outdated doctrine to his logical, scientific and unassailable offers of cerebral and erudite inquiry, he was a profound intellect. His humour is something else that makes him so readable. Truly, he was an all round marvel.

My own fervent atheism was not only reaffirmed by reading such things, it was strengthened and fortified. Though my upbringing was traditionally "Christian", it did not deter me from my own, necessary inquiry into matters ecclesiastical. The truth was there, I just had to find it. Thankfully, as I grew up and moved on, I read, learned and understood things more. It did not take long to unearth the rank, flagrant hypocrisy of the godly, their convenient misinterpretation of scripture and utter inability to defend their unsubstantiated metaphysical claims of a deity.

With my eyes opened as to the fiction of faith, the evil dishonesty of belief in an ecclesiastical dictatorship and existence of a theological totalitarianism, discarding faith became easy. Never has a realisation been so cathartic, meaningful or liberating. Religion had done nothing but shackle, confine, oppress and chastise, an inculcation that I consider shameful.

Relinquishing my (admittedly weak) faith, that of my enforced religious upbringing rather than ever truly my own conviction, was a moment of true emancipation and one which has, ever since, enabled me to approach life more honestly. Without the fear of eternal punishment from a capricious, incompetent deity (who, we are told, created us ill and commanded us to be well) or the need to pursue eternal rewards such faith falsely promises, I was afforded the luxury of true free will.

I rejected and reject the notion of a deity and the idea of a divine dictator. Let's be honest, if we were to accept a creator, a prime mover and this earth represents intelligent design then it does such a deity no favours; either he, she or it is flagrantly incompetent at best or hateful, capricious and sadistic at worse. Either way, it shows ever more clearly the absurdity of such an idea. Sadly, these lies are still taught in school under the smuggled through customs title of creationism. For shame.

Being an atheist allows my mind to be blissfully uncluttered in terms of nonsensical notions of faith: I do not have to concern myself with the many patently false issues which inspire the godly to offer propitiations, recite incantations and adopt a theological posture. I have no need to ask for grace from an unchallengeable tyrant, no desire for non-existant spiritual redemption, no need to hope for a promise of empty salvation.

My atheism allows me to, quite simply, embrace my innate human capacity for morality, explore and act on my desire to be a humanitarian and make the most of the life I have, never at the expense of others. This is something that Hitch expressed time and time again, without diversion or apology. Another reason I had such affection for his body of work.

Also, I am free from the fear of a celestial threat which would force me to avail myself of vicarious redemption on the basis of a human sacrifice that allegedly took place in bronze age Palestine. Even writing the last few sentences reminds me how unfathomable it is, to me at least, that any normal thinking human being could believe this stuff.

Hoping for reward in eternity is as foolish as it is empty and inhibits the human capability to act autonomously. This absurd promise of a heaven with endless praise, endless worship, endless subjection infects us on a basic level. It purports that we cannot be moral beings without that divine warrant, an unequivocally offensive claim. Why would anyone wish to live under such constant surveillance and unrelenting guilt?

Nobody embodied these beliefs more than Hitch. When he considered the monotheism of Christianity to a divine North Korea, he hit the nail on the head. If you have the time or inclination, listen to that particular speech and I dare you not to see the alarming similarities between the two regimes. It's truly fascinating.

Within the comparison I speak of, he destroyed the notion of an omniscient, omnipotent deity by simple philosophical logic and human morality. Free will that is enforced is self-contradictory. Freedom of choice is negated if only one choice is to be considered worthy. Being convicted for thought crime, as is a doctrine of monotheistic faith, is the essence of totalitarianism. I suppose this is what makes me an anti-theist as much as an atheist: I am glad that I do not believe and consider it liberating to be without the shackles of faith.

Of course, this admiration for Christopher Hitchens has often made me a target for the hateful criticism of the spiritually certain. Sometimes they offer vile, unqualified obloquys in my direction in the same breath that they judge, condemn and threaten me with everlasting torment, naturally with "god on their side". Such wonderful examples of the love they allege to represent in their a la carte religions. Humility and humanity must have been in the part of the bible that they casually chose to disregard. Typical apologist rubbish on behalf of the divine dictator.

I hate to disappoint these types, but threatening me with a hell I do not believe in is about as scary as telling me that Santa will not be bringing me any presents. They get particularly offended when I say this and clearly have less of a capacity for forgiveness and humility than they seem to preach.

To me, my lack of a belief does not necessarily make me better or worse than a person of faith. The difference of course, is that I do not condemn them to eternal damnation and hell fire for not agreeing with me. They do this when castigating me for not believing their "truths" regarding something with no value and worse, no evidence. The casuistry that the godly so often display is almost breathtaking. Oh, and I don't wish for Armageddon, rapture or apocalypse, the disgusting, evil and offensive eschatological imperative for all monotheists. A small but important distinction, I feel.

Ultimately, I agree with Hitch when he questioned who would wish to live a life of such abjection, personifying the master-slave relationship, compelled to love someone they also were forced to fear, the essence of sadomasochism. Monotheism asks those who are devout to accept that they are all part of the predestination of Calvinism and thus, unable to avoid "sin". That is to say, according to doctine, that god compels you to be sinful and beg for foriveness, even though you were made that way. As Hitch himself said on this salient point. "If god really wanted people to be free of [wicked thoughts], he should have taken more care to invent a different species".

What I would propound is that morality, kindness and kinship with fellow man does not need a celestial mandate. In fact, to only behave morally or act kindly to avoid punishment or place Pascal's wager actually devalues decency and takes away altruism. When I realised all this, with the help of learned writings from Hitchens, Dawkins et.al. it was as though I had been trapped in a room and suddenly realised that, the whole time, the door to the outside had never really been locked.

Though an educated man myself (having done post graduate research at Balliol College, Oxford Hitch's alma mater) I found that Hitch expressed my closely held beliefs in a manner which crystallized my thoughts and assisted in my own quest to rally against religion. He did not convince me, that would be a disingenuous claim. Rather, he assisted me in my ongoing desire to offer a verbal compendium of my opinions and refute the lies, delusions and evidently empty claims of religious bigots.

There are many philosophical, literary, political, poetic, reforming and inspiring figures with whom I am happy to associate myself. We all have influences and I am proud to call Christopher Hitchens one of mine. Thankfully, his legacy lies in his body of work and we can all but hope that it continues to inspire free thought and a pursuit of true humanism in the purest of forms.

It seems only fair to end with one of my favourite quotes from the man himself that, quite simply, says it all:

"The only position that leaves me with no cognitive dissonance is atheism. It is not a creed. Death is certain, replacing both the siren-song of Paradise and the dread of Hell. Life on this earth, with all its mystery and beauty and pain, is then to be lived far more intensely: we stumble and get up, we are sad, confident, insecure, feel loneliness and joy and love. There is nothing more; but I want nothing more"

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drtpt · 13 years ago

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Readers Anonymous. All are welcome.

My name is Dr.Thomas and I am a bibliophile. This may seem like the opening gambit from someone attending a congregation of those attempting to acknowledge and conquer a 'vice'. I can assure you, it is no such thing; it is a proud proclamation with neither hope nor desire for immediate or eventual redemption.

I love reading, I adore books, I enjoy newspapers and various other publications and I would not, by choice, ever be without them. Without exception, I always have a book on the go and read a daily newspaper and, should I not, I suspect I would feel somewhat disenfranchised from the written word. Books have been, are and always shall be, as long as I am in possession of fully functioning cerebral and sensual capabilities, part of my life. Literature in general has been a constant companion through life's vicissitudes.

From my early years of looking at elementary books designed to promote, aid and encourage reading to my current love of more sophisticated material, I cannot recall a time when I have not loved a good read. Whether for education, entertainment, investigation, academic research, humourous relief, inspiration, repose, familiarisation with a new subject matter or simple poetic pleasure, it is a past time which I treasure and value above most others.

As we gallop further down the now well-worn tracks of social media, online publications and e-books I still, though I am in no way a technological Luddite, harbour the hallmarks of a stuffy old traditionalist in some respects. Though I am not immune to nor ignorant of the convenience factor of e-readers and downloaded books, picking up a book, a 'hard copy' if you prefer, still thrills me. The unalloyed, fallen autumnal-leaf crispness of new pages, the eventual, stately manor mustiness of old, much loved, oft-returned to classics, the carefully preserved, sturdy spines of hardbacks, the literal page turning joy and momentary frisson that comes whenever I hold a book in my hands; these are things that can be imitated but never replicated by online reading.

Writing for a living, as I do, is something that compels me to be fully educated in the realm of online copy, web friendly formats and all things virtual. Funnily enough, this gradual and necessary advancement in form has not eroded my love for and appreciation of real books. Rather, it has served to nurture, magnify and fortify my love of them.

Even now, as I write this piece for an online repository, I can glance lovingly across at the books that I house on my shelves. Such is my collection, I have to store much of it elsewhere. Even from that, the aesthetic beauty and literary purity of piles of books, I derive a somewhat ineffably profound pleasure.

We have heard, over the years, constant proclamations which have predicted the death of books, newspapers and magazines and foretold an almost apocalyptic annihilation of hard copy. Ex post facto, however, no such cataclysm has transpired and such things still occupy a pivotal role in the cultural and educational development of most developed and developing nations. Decline of paper publications, perhaps, extinction, never. A priori assertions refuted by a posteriori realities. Thankfully.

Libraries, though there may be fewer overall, are still considered to be critical to communities and indispensable within education. These glorious literary institutions level the financial playing field and remove the problem of not being able to afford books. I was recently honoured to be granted access to various research materials at the opulemt, salubrious and grandiose New York Public Library archives. If ever I needed a reminder of how and why I love libraries and books, this is certainly one of the finest libraries in America in which to get such a nudge.

Free, unlimited access to literature is the gift of every library to wider society and truly is a gift that keeps on giving. Without libraries, I would propound, exposure to our magnificent and unparalleled back catalogue of literature would be severely compromised. Reason enough to keep, promote and cherish them.

Any compromise predicated on, or resulting in a jeopardizing of exposure to literature, is a commutation which is without merit and destined to imperil the cultural heritage that is the right, or at least should be, of everyone.

If you doubt this claim about the continued significance of paper publications, take a trip through the labyrinth of stores at airports and malls. You will observe literally hundreds of publications available; from the popular to the obscure, the well known to the peculiarly niche, there is a profusion of publications. It may be generational, it may be sociological, it may be psychological, it may be fiscal, but it is also seemingly incontrovertible: people still love to pick something from a shelf, hold it in their hands and turn the pages to read.

Political policy, on occasion, seeks to remind us of the importance to our society of reading and literature. In recent months Michael Gove, the British education secretary, suggested that our primary curriculum should include and encourage the reading and learning of poetry from the age of six. Once again, a policy ostensibly designed to encourage reading.

On this announcement, two reactions were forthcoming; firstly, those who were against this notion trotted out the utter nonsense which postulates poetry and classical literature to be the sole preserve of the wealthy or privately educated. Others, myself included, consider that learning poetry is not only a beautiful notion, but that it serves as a more general exercise in memorising, spelling, language development, fuelling young imagination and even public oration.

Personally, I feel honoured that my head is full of poetry, Shakespearean sonnets and memorable passages of great literature and feel sorry for anyone who has not had the opportunity to decorate their mind with such literary splendour.

It is a true shame that, within our education system so few people, and particularly only those whose parents are rich, have been able to furnish their minds with such beauty. To pour scorn on the importance of such reading is to declare yourself, or at least your mind, a cultural wasteland. Literature, poetry and music are profound parts of what make us British.

Thus, to openly deny the value of reading or being exposed to such things is to admit and accept that you will never be fully conversant with your own history or that of your familial and cultural ancestors. To me, that seems sad indeed and a state of optional ignorance that simply confounds my thought process.

Naturally, as a man with the honour of a propitious and far reaching education, I understand that different educational establishments have varying needs and thus, wildly disparate syllabus necessities. In no way am I offering an educational, 'one size fits all' solution when it comes to reading or exposure to certain literature. That would be beyond my area of expertise and, if not maliciously or purposefully, disingenuous on my part.

I am not saying that we should all be sat under grand oak trees, adorned in sartorially elegant period costume reciting Byron, Keats and Shelley or reenacting the blossoming, bildungsroman romance of Ms. Eyre and Mr. Rochester at Thornfield Hall. Of course not. Neither, however, should we be dismissive of reading such things whenever the chance arises and can be suitably tailored to individual educational or personal needs, just because they are taught in some privileged halls of academia.

Returning to the notion of e-reading and similar manifestations of online publications, it is demonstrably axiomatic that modern pedagogues and instructors are embracing modern technology to enhance the promotion of reading. That said, I know many such educators who are as vehement in their support of and zealous in their dedication to good, old fashioned book learning.

I may not have read, nor have the desire to read, any of the Harry Potter novels, but they served an invaluable purpose in this arena: they reintroduced a generation of young people to the joys of reading books. Such an achievement perhaps demonstrates one of the plinths on which the tower of my thesis is built: it is not necessarily what you read, it is that you read.

Put simply, reading is good for the mind and, at least in my humble opinion, invaluable to a civilised society. From the early throws of basic education to eventually stimulating the imagination glands. From inspiring a thirst for more knowledge to learning more about any subject you wish. From comforting in times of adversity to expressing joy during epochs of ecstasy and expanding the vocabulary while simultaneously extending the mind, there really is a book for all seasons.

Reading and the importance of literature should not be a matter of class, education, money, status, title, geography of rank. It is a right that belongs to all of us and should be afforded to everyone, something that should incorporate or make allowances for no exceptions. I feel the same about music, another medium often turned into an unwitting symbol of class and misappropriated as an enemy of egalitarian philosophies.

So strong is my belief that reading should be for all, I could even absolve and pardon the biblioklept, as long as they had the decency to read their purloined publications.

To use the wonderful words of the renowned, inspirational historian and author Barbara W.Tuchman, "Books are the carriers of civilization. Without books, history is silent, literature dumb, science crippled, thought, debate and speculation left at a standstill" Heaven forfend that such a parlous state should ever be realised.

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drtpt · 13 years ago

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Presidential Debates: Where the stars earn their stripes.

On one of my recent visits to New York, I was closely involved in writing a real time account of and subsequent reflection on the first US Presidential candidates' debate. Being quintessentially British and, thus, used to a more subdued form of political confrontation (notwithstanding the visceral weekly dog-fight known as PMQs), the first thing that struck me was the unashamed razzmatazz that heralds in these debates. This mildy irritating showmanship takes the form of leaders' speeches around the nation prior to these showcase dialectical altercations. To use the lingua franca, I refer to the campaign trail. Candidates criss-crossing the country, concentrating partly on swing-states and, otherwise, needlessly galvanizing the already committed in traditionally 'red' or 'blue' states.

Music, often egregiously loud music, posters, banners, balloons, back-slapping, flag-waving, badge -wearing, and a general mood that suggests we are about to enjoy a rock concert or theatrical tour de force are all part of this political preamble. Naturally, there is also an often obsequious session of meeting and greeting those who pump incredulous amounts of money into the campaign fund. Most unsightly, but a part of the circus. Much like clowns.

Of course, should such verbal jousts not be pre-empted by this unnecessary and indecorous fanfare, it would just not be American now, would it? Everyone and everything has to be big, noisy, exagerrated, hyberbolic, infelicitous and, quite simply, over the top. Here, at least, there is a shred of authenticity to proceedings, sadly lacking in much, if not all of the verbiage that follows.

When British Prime Ministerial candidates square off, there is an immediate dignity, soon diluted by the ebb and flow of spurious political promises and eventually lost in the sheer, insipid monotony of it all. In the US, the money-soaked arena of ideological affiliations and political posturing, image is as much a focal point as the espoused policies. Even as I watched the broadcast, people in the same room as me were discussing how the candidates' image consultants had got it right or wrong.

My suspicion, cynical though it may be, is that America itself is obsessed with image and that sizeable financial contributions to a party may well be predicated on how a campaign should be run. It follows then, that political images are largely fabricated and engineered to suit certain parts of society. By that, of course, I mean the financially privileged and ersatz philanthropists that fill the party coffers. Perhaps I am wrong, but let's not be naive about this; rarely do we see political philanthropy without an agenda, hidden or otherwise, from the benefactor. In Britain, we are saved from the greater excesses of this fiscal horse trading, though we are still not fully immune from it. If you question whether image matters, I reference a comment I heard in a bar approximately an hour after the debate concluced, and I quote, "regardless of his policies, I just couldn't vote for a man (Romney) who uses so much hair gel".

Add to that the preoccupation with the candidates' religious convictions and you will soon appreaciate how policies, though important, can often be secondary in the thought process and ultimate decision of many voters. Sad, but true. Incidentally, the person from whom the above quote emitted was from New Jersey. Not the best advert for, nor representative of the cerebral calibre of those from a state previously entitled "New Jersey: Pathway of the Revolution". One-nil to Manhattan, I fear. No need for a review.

Whether Democrat or Republican, there is, regardless of other criticisms within this missive, a true thirst for these debates amongst the American public. Perhaps my view is unduly jaundiced from being in Manhattan, one of the more politically astute areas of the US and a state that is a hotbed of political activity. Either way, the fact that, in the immediate aftermath of the debate, I was in a bar where the conversations were about nothing else serves to show my point, at least in part. I recall being in a pub in London during the last UK election and, on the night of one such debate, I can assure you that the exchanges about the said debate were few and far between. Again, this is an entirely unscientific reflection but at least it is a posteriori, rather than the less advisable a priori.

During the early throws of the first debate, the Americans with whom I was watching this exchange, seemed more animated than the President. Their tangible ire and irascible frustration was predicated on their belief that Mr. Obama was doing nothing more than "phoning it in". For the unitiated, this an American term which denotes someone "going through the motions" rather than making a real effort. I could not disagree, it was all frightfully pedestrian. Even so, the salient point was how aggresively animated this performance apathy made these people. Voters, constituants, Americans.

As a bystander who has not had the right to vote conveyed on me within the US (yet), and as a zealous political cynic, I found it somewhat refreshing to see such umbrage and exaspperation. Perhaps my lack of investment into the policy implications made me a more neutral observer in pragmatic terms, but it does not erase the fact that I still have a most astringent political opinion.

Being unable to express my unabriged opinion on an ostensibly neutral news forum is, or can be, frustrating. It is also, however, journalistically rewarding in as much as it allows me to view the gladiatorial exchanges from a different perspecitve. While understanding the policy issues, I did not have to dissect, interpret or entertain them with a view to how they would affect my domestic finances, healthcare, education or pension plans. Rather, I watched the body language of the candidates, scrutinised the moments where they were passionate and watched when the words from their political adversary truly rankled them. Interesting, very interesting.

Ultimately, if various polls or reports are to be believed, these debates do little to sway anyone other than a tiny minority of undecided voters. Being so close to the action and having watched it amidst American voters, I had already gathered that most people look to these verbal jousts to confirm their already trenchant political position. From the media surroundings where I bore witness to it and later, the more open and uncensored views of the bar room populace, it was clear that these debates are, in most cases, preaching to the choir.

Even so, it was enlightening to see the alleged and often real political voting inertia of US citizens give way to genuinely empassioned, often vitriolic and blissfully unfettered debate. Debates may not be there to convert the masses, but at least they stimulate dialogue and encourage an open, frank exchange of views. If only such unscripted candour could be a part of the actual debate on the screen. Maybe one day, but I highly doubt it.

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drtpt · 13 years ago

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Farewell Hallowe'en, Hello Yuletide...

Before I offer my thoughts on the ever-earlier onslaught of all things festive, allow me to satisfy any orthographical curiosity: I have spelt Hallowe'en as seen for one reason: that is how it was originally and, to some, still is spelt. I lament the passing of the missing apostrophe that has, after so many years of loyal service, been unceremoniously dumped by most. There, moment of justified, if somewhat grammatically pedantic umbrage, over. As you were.

Though it is only early November, it would seem that gratuitous amounts of Christmas advertising and bombardments of festive fever are now fair game. From the almost obscene television commercials encouraging, or even compelling people to purchase the "must have" gifts of the year, to full page spreads in the more frivolous daily newspapers, it is virtually impossible to avoid this Saturnalian saturation.

Now, before you cry "Humbug, Scrooge, Grinch" or anoint me with any other season-hating sobriquet, let me reassure you. Regardless of my trenchant atheism (and the fact that I do not believe the fons et origo of this festival to have any historic or theological truth to it), I am not against the idea of a season of good will or the largely secular traditions that accompany and, frankly, dominate this "most wonderful time of year". I am, in fact, quite supportive of the notion that families should convene for time together, take repose from their quotidian lives and weather the simmering, alcohol fuelled arguments attendant upon such congregations.

Let's be honest, it has long-since ceased, for so many, to be a Christian celebration in all but name, so we shall leave that particular ecclesiastical and dialectical discourse for another time.

When I was growing up, at the risk of sounding ancient or though I am viewing the past through rose-coloured glasses, I am almost certain that Christmas was rarely mentioned before December. When the first advent calendar door was opened and the first chocolate eagerly consumed before breakfast, then, and only then, was it time to start the official countdown to the arrival of the obese, red-suited, reindeer-led, mince pie loving, sherry consuming, philanthropic and ultimately fictitious world-traveller known by a plethora of names.

Furthermore, it seemed indecorous for advertisers to roll out their festive commercials too early, an unwritten rule almost universally acknowledged and subsequently observed by companies across the board. It would seem, however, that those days are now consigned to historic record. As soon as Hallowe'en is over, let the surge of Christmas consumerism begin, seems to be the overwhelmingly endorsed consensus.

Earlier and earlier, we see the indebted masses flock to cathedrals of consumerism, monuments of marketing and endless emporiums. Again, it is not that this happens (though I do consider that the consumer driven imperative of Christmas has gone way too far) it is when it happens that causes me to write 'a contrario'.

Perhaps it is just my perspective, but this premature proliferation of seasonal cheer and commercial endeavour often seems counter-productive on a human level. Rather than celebrating what we have, it seems to encourage a culture of coveting that which we do not. Instead of engendering a communal sense of societal conviviality, it propagates a stressful, impatient and entirely un-festive mood of tension in those who are attempting to create the 'perfect Christmas', as fictional a notion as the existence of Santa himself.

If you doubt this, and have the stomach for it, take a stroll around a city centre or major mall in early December. London, Manchester, New York, Paris. In all of these places and many more around the world, there is a haunting similarity and homogeneous disharmony that is almost tangible and certainly palpable. Such an excursion will, I am sure, corroborate my musings and validate my vehement umbrage. You may love such crowds and thrive on these frantic festivities, but you cannot deny, it is seven shades of busy and quite an unedifying spectacle.

Ultimately, I would propound that this gradual advancement of all things Yuletide is here to stay. Curiously, our colonial cousins in the United States seem to almost forbid the ushering in of Yuletide festivities until the end of November. Admittedly, this is largely due to the serendipitous scheduling of Thanksgiving and their desire to focus on the significance of that in the first instance. That said, they do rather conflate the two holidays in a clumsy and seemingly arbitrary manner, quintessentially highlighted by a "Thanksgiving Parade" with jolly old Saint Nick at the nucleus.

My point, however, is that if the notoriously consumer driven and perennially over-excitable Yanks can exhibit a modicum of discipline and regard for the timely commencement of festivities, then surely we can pick up the baton and do the same here in Blighty. If we do pull in the reins on this propulsive party, we can then issue forth the words of John Milton with renewed confidence, "Let not England forget her precedence of teaching nations how to live". Until December...

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drtpt · 13 years ago

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Death by Religious Piety. For shame.

This whole sorry issue, on which I will expound shortly, reminds me of a debate I once attended in London. In questioning whether catholic intervention in secular matters was a force for good, Christopher Hitchens asked the question which should surely be asked in the case in hand: "Who would do such evil things if it were not due to a belief that they had a divine warrant?". Remember that as you read on.

The story to which I refer was about a woman in Ireland who died in hospital at the end of October. Prima facie, that is, sadly, not 'news' in itself. The specifics, however, render it not only newsworthy, but controversial and outrage inspiring, at least to the rational amongst us. This lady did not die of cancer, cardiac distress, natural causes or one of the other 'usual suspects' when it comes to mortality. Instead, Ms. Halappanavar, a 31 year old dentist, originally from India and pregnant for the first time, died of septicaemia.

According to trusted reports, this is what the attending medic gave her as a reason for this refusal: "This is Ireland and we are a catholic country". After further complications, the foetal heartbeat did stop but it was too late and Ms Halappanavar died.

The death of this innocent lady is yet another case that highlights the misguided nature of harmful, evil religious fundamentalism and the detriment it imposes on progress.

Just to make it absolutely clear before I proceed further, I am an atheist. That said, I in no way claim that my lack of belief is morally superior. Nor do I claim that I know, to a certainty, that there is no god. I just don't believe there is a god or gods or see evidence to convince me otherwise. Regardless of any belief (or lack of belief in my case) one embraces, human decency is human decency, regardless of the moral motivation that inspires it.

Personally, I neither believe in nor have the desire to believe in an ecclesiastical dictatorship. When I see the vile and fatal actions of this catholic doctor, such a position is strengthened. An unchallengeable, unmovable, everlasting and oddly capricious regime which condemns me for not believing the existence of such a deity on no evidence whatsoever just doesn't appeal, not to mention that it accepts the threat of conviction for thought crime, the essence of a totalitarian regime. No Pascal's Wager for me, thank you very much.

Let me clarify further. Much as I do not have a religious belief or a desire to embrace divinity or the numinous, I accept that it is entirely democratic and within the rights of the individual that such beliefs can be held. As Voltaire intoned, "I may disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it". Indeed, I know many wonderful people who espouse spiritual convictions, cherish their religious devotion and live a decent life in the belief that it is inspired by the divine. Perhaps they are the true representatives of such faith. In fact, I suspect, that were I to poll these same, admirable people of faith, many of them would be appalled and affronted by this travesty committed under the banner of religious conviction.

I have, in the past, offered a similar thesis and discourse when the offspring of Jehovah's Witnesses die due to refusal of treatment. This sad loss is, therefore, not specifically about denomination, though that does come into it. Rather, it has inspired a wider debate on a seminal issue: defending and promoting basic moral decision making and the honest application of medical ethics whilst opposing the bigoted mindset that led, directly and incontrovertably, to a life being lost.

Regardless of religious beliefs, divine delusions or claims to know god's will, medical treatment and intervention to save lives must never be compromised. This diatribe is not me trying to enforce a personal opinion, it is a critical element of the Hippocratic oath sworn by all medical practitioners. Furthermore, it is a basic facet of human decency that has been jettisoned here and all in favour of a zealous adherence to and application of a personal faith. For shame.

To conclude as I commenced, with a quote from the late, great Christopher Hitchens, "The person who is certain and who claims divine warrant for his certainly, surely belongs now to the infancy of our species". I could not agree more and humbly suggest that it is time we started, without criminalizing religious belief itself, ensuring that any such canonical, theistic or sacerdotal affiliations have no hegemony in our society.

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drtpt · 13 years ago

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If John Logie Baird and George Orwell walked into a bar...

As I have precious little time (or indeed desire when a good book is always close to hand) to watch television, I like to think that what I do choose to view is worthy of my limited leisure sojourns. Thankfully, as Autumn arrives with much deserved confidence, my screen will once more be furnished with the quality dramas and superbly scripted shows which herald in the darkening evenings before winter. Each to their own is, as ever, my libertarian mantra, but such consent with televisual autonomy does not leave me without opinion. From the putrid, excruciating and talentless souls of The X Factor, to the even more deluded, humiliated and desperate has-been/never were simpletons attempting to resuscitate their terminally flailing fame in a ‘celebrity’ incarnation of Big Brother, I consider such outputs to be an unrelenting blight on our television landscape. Furthermore, I categorize such déclassé, baseborn and raffish drivel to be nothing short of offensive and an insult to whatever intelligence I claim to be blessed/cursed with.

Before I proceed with what may well represent a missive filled with vitriolic diatribes, (if well researched and exquisitely explained) I should muster a disclaimer; I am in no way suggesting, promoting or exalting the notion of censorship and fully defend the right of creators to create and viewers to view whatever warms, entertains or tickles their fancy. There, I said it. Much as it pained me. Thus, if you wish to carp, bellyache, whimper, grumble or snivel about my position on this, you are free to do so. I proffer no apology for being stridently fervent with my convictions.

I think it would be fair to say that reality television is a genre that polarizes opinion. Few people occupy the middle ground of nonchalance; on one side people tend to loathe, detest, abhor, execrate and castigate it as a malignant scourge that should be summarily ignored and ultimately banished. In the opposing camp people love, venerate, adore, embrace, crave, cherish and look forward to it with a ritualistic reverence and esteemed devotion that almost deifies comprehension. Naturally, you are all aware which of those parties would command my allegiance so there is no need to pose the question.

Let’s be clear about something: I am not installing myself as some kind of television tyrant or sociological sage, not a bit of it. I simply fail to comprehend why this genre is so unspeakably popular. Whether it is the celebrity or wannabee forms of such programs, they quite simply leave me stone cold at best or festering, bristling and seething with undiluted ire at worse. If you will allow me, or indeed if you protest, I shall outline a truncated list of my grievances on this matter. If I were to make such a missive exhaustive it would surely become stretched and elongated beyond the boundaries of this forum. When I was at the age of addressing, acknowledging and fashioning my hopes, aspirations and ambitions for my career, it was relatively simple as my options were two-fold: either plough on in the academic world and install myself at whichever University would have me, or enter the workforce. I feel no need to delineate, illuminate or explain further, it really was this straightforward. Education would invariably lead to jobs in the legal, medical, administrative, political, banking, teaching or researching worlds, to name but a few. My point is, we had dreams, hopes and designs that were intended to reflect our years of hard work when we were fortunate enough to realize them. Naturally, such aspirations were merely a reflection of professional purpose, not our ‘other’ dreams of being published authors, Premier League footballers or outrageously capricious stars of stage and screen. Though there are many young people who still profess the desire and pursue the appropriate course to join the aforementioned career paths, reality TV of the X Factor/Britain’s got (a distinct lack of) Talent variety have created a new form of ‘ambition’. Warbling a previously loved tune or juggling monkeys while eating swords is now seen as a viable career path or an unguarded gateway to undeserved fame and fortune. If we were rewarding the truly talented, I could almost accept it. What rankles, irritates and exasperates me, however, is our penchant for granting fame to all and sundry, especially those who are inexplicably afforded the dubious honour of extending their fleeting fame due to merely being on television. Furthermore, we insist on parading bewildered, dysfunctional troglodytes in front of judgmental, sanctimonious, self-satisfied millionaires who sneer, lambaste and fustigate them for national entertainment. Then there is the ‘celebrity’ versions of reality television. If the previous form discussed is nothing more than intellectually-bereft debris, this is almost more contemptible. People whose flame of fame is fading out shamelessly attempting to rekindle their already questionable hour of power. Pathetic, pitiable, deplorable, grotty, rueful and lamentable only serves to begin to describe these prisoners of their own ego. To call them second-rate would be a generous promotion but clearly, they are intoxicated by their own screen persona and, sadly, viewers are equally enchanted. For shame. Ultimately, people argue that reality television is harmless. Maybe it is. I beg leave to disagree. When this putrid, squalid genre infiltrates society to the point of obsession, shapes career ambitions and offers even the most negligible chance of instant, superficial fame, I would argue that it is, at least in part and on deeper examination, somewhat detrimental to our nation. Yes, it entertains, but it also warps, distorts and desecrates our notion of ‘reality’, not to mention our concept of superb, glorious, noble, elegant and august television programming of which there are still, thankfully, many laudable examples. My festering sense of displeasure with regard to reality television is clearly evident but, to borrow a more noble sentiment from a man with true talent, I’m not the only one. As the great poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow so delightfully ruminated, “The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well and doing well whatever you do without thought of fame. If it comes at all, it will come because it is deserved, not because it is sought after”. If only this were the case more often, if only…

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drtpt · 13 years ago

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New York. No two visits the same.

Having recently returned from one of my numerous excursions to New York City, I feel compelled to offer up my thoughts on what is, undoubtedly, an extraordinary city. I have been to many states, cities, towns and settlements in the United States. From Minneapolis to Chicago, Seattle to Boston, Charlotte to San Francisco and many points between. America is a country with almost every natural, social and cultural opportunity you can imagine, many of which I have enjoyed. None of these experiences, however, have compelled me to return to many of these places or made me feel as 'at home' as I do in New York City.

It would be remiss and simply unforgivable of me not to stress that many of the people I know in New York may have started, many moons ago, as acquaintances but are now people I regard as nothing less than friends. Without these confreres, their blissful company, unwavering kindness and unconditional magnanimity, I am sure my perspective would be different. Thankfully, they are a part of my life now and for that, I am extravagantly and unyieldingly grateful.

Ultimately, I suspect my overall opinion of and regard for New York is ineffable, but I can but try to describe the way I think of it. Before I proceed to attempt to elucidate my thoughts, however, let it not be said that I am naive enough to consider New York to be a haven of undiluted happiness, a Hiltonian Shangri-La or some sort of utopian oasis.

I have visited this sprawling, skyscraper laden, neighborhood defined metropolis many times over the last two decades and am acutely aware that it is a city of stark contrasts; from the opulence of Park Avenue to the humble homes of Harlem; the neon-lit gaudiness of Times Square to the understated serenity of Gramercy; the frantic, zealous greed of Wall St to the tranquil repose of Central Park. Throw in a little Greenwich Village, a touch of the Upper West Side and a splash of SoHo and you really will begin to understand the contrasts on offer.

Few cities in the world reflect every notch on the social, economic and political spectrum as well as New York City. Famine and feast, beauty and beast, agony and ecstasy; the juxtapositions are all too evident. I can still adore a place while acknowledging that it is most certainly not a place for everyone.

Whether there for work or play, my frequent visits have ensured that little about New York surprises me any more. I stroll the streets and avenues, New York Times in hand, head down and adopting a purposeful walk in a manner that ensures that I blend in. Put simply, New Yorkers are not known for meandering. That is for tourists. On more than one occasion, I have been asked for directions by just such 'tourists' who seem to see me as a local, perhaps due to the absence of a map, camera and the open-jawed gape of awe that seems to afflict first time visitors and bewildered foreigners. Few things amuse me more than the look of stunned incredulity when I proceed to offer accurate, precise directions with an unmistakably British accent.

Anyway, I digress. On arrival at JFK, the most loathsome of airports, I always run the usual gauntlet to secure a taxicab to Manhattan. As ever, the driver is monosyllabic and, immediately the journey begins, the television in the back seat area is turned on. Broadway show highlights, TV show previews and general commercials blast out at me. I care not for this, so retreat to my ipad to write a couple of emails. Mercifully, the Midtown skyline is soon upon me and my destination reached quickly thereafter. Whichever of the tunnels or bridges may act as your gateway to Manhattan, you will immediately notice the change of pace the moment you reach it.

One thing that never fails to impress me each time I arrive in Manhattan is the energy, vigour, bound and momentum that New York City seems to inspire in me. To say it is the "City that never sleeps" is slightly hyperbolic. That said, it does seem that the residents are more likely to take power naps rather than lengthy periods of slumber, but "the city that naps rather than achieves REM sleep" is as bereft of melodic resonance as it is cachet. This is not to say that New York is a place one cannot relax. Au contraire.

Few places in the world offer such a stunning opportunity for the oft forgotten sport of people watching. Simple observation, not to be confused with prurient voyeurism, is there for the taking all over New York.

Amidst all my professional commitments, cultural indulgences and social engagements, I always but always make time for this. Furiously hurried commuters, bewildered tourists, eccentric millionaires, stars of stage and screen, professional dog-walkers, life-size cartoon characters, barber shop quartets, street painters, bona fide members of the Cosa Nostra...they all walk the streets, populate the bars and cafes, use the subway and add to the uniqueness of the city.

Grab a coffee or a libation, sit back, relax and observe. It will mesmerise you as it does me, no two days alike. From Grand Central to Central Park, your senses will be awakened, your curiosity aroused and your interests piqued for all manner of reasons. Prepare to meet people from all walks of life, every borough of the city, every state of the union and from all around the globe. Such is the diversity of this crowded island, no two days appear the same.

So whether you enjoy opera, theatre, classical music, jazz, art galleries, botanic gardens, zoos, shopping, fine dining, hot dogs, pizza, park walks, boat rides, biking or simply sitting with a coffee and watching the frantic world hurry by, New York will deliver. Naturally, this list of activities is not exhaustive, as my many visits will attest, I have done all this and so much more. As with the city itself, this missive represents but a fraction of what I could have written about my experiences, assignations, adventures and indeed misbegotten misadventures. Suffice to say, if and when you make it to New York, you will soon appreciate my sermon on the matter.

If you do ever visit this most exhilarating of cities, take time to enjoy the architecture, the history and the neighbourhoods as much as the typical tourist attractions. It may be the tourist traps that make it the most visited city in the USA, but is the history and the people that make it New York City.

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drtpt · 13 years ago

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When au revoir is merely À bientôt...

It looks like we are going to have to struggle and hustle through 2012 without the presence of Georgie Thompson reading the sports news out loud on Sky. As the old year dribbled and skulked away, Georgie did her last shift on Sky Sports News, an event whose coverage on the channel was pitched somewhere between This Is Your Life and Churchill's funeral.

It all seemed a little de trop to me, as Thompson is actually staying with Sky and merely moving over to their new Formula One coverage. I may, however, not be the most reliable commentator on her valediction, having previously been largely unaware of Georgie's apparently impressive body of work. Though on greater inspection, she does boast a great body.

I have seen her on Sky's comedy sports show A League Of Their Own, on which she is a cheerful and well turned-out regular panellist, but rarely says anything that can be categorised as genuinely witty – something she has in common with the rest of the participants. But her 10 glorious years on Sky Sports News seemed to have passed me by. Maybe my years of exile in Canada between 2003-2011 were my saviour.

Or my obliviousness to her may be because I usually encounter Sky Sports News as a silent channel. It is often on in pubs with the sound turned down or inaudible, often causing me to miss my turn at the bar when momentarily distracted by breaking news of an achilles injury at Ewood Park. It also plays away silently in gyms as part of the illusion that joining such an establishment, buying shorts and trainers adorned with the name of a sportswear company, and watching dedicated sports TV, is somehow helping solve the nationwide obesity crisis.

I always assumed the well-groomed man with the neat hair and the identikit blonde with the even white teeth were hired to give us something nice to look at when our eyes stray from the league tables and coming attractions on the right... and the groin strain captions running along the foot of the screen.

I have certainly never felt moved to ask for the sound to be turned up as the familiar parade of managerial talking heads appears: Steve Kean with his Gary Barlow-style staring eyes, Neil Warnock with the flashing smile of a jolly but slightly sinister uncle, and Harry Redknapp jerking his head around as if trying to escape some Dixon of Dock Green-type copper of his East End youth trying to administer the traditional cockney clip round the ear.

Back at my gaff, though, I happened to have the volume pumped up for Georgie's swansong, which included a surprise guest on the line waiting to wish her all the best for her future with, er, Sky Sports. According to co-presenter Julian Warren, well-wishers had been "queuing up" for the privilege of being Georgie's final interviewee, and guess who had been chosen? Why, Harry Redknapp. Never has been cooking dinner been so distracted... "I'm completely stumped. This is amazing. Oh dear, oh me. Thanks for coming on the line," gushed Georgie, although why an appearance by the Spurs boss should have stunned her so was and shall remain an eternal mystery.

When I am exercising (or whatever you call watching the telly in the café at the gym) or waiting for another epidsode of Sherlock or Lewis, Harry's jerky head seems to be on a continuous loop on Sky Sports News. It is easy to see why Harry is such a regular guest. He is an obliging interviewee who will talk at length, helping fill the unforgiving minutes and hours when there is nothing you might classify as actual news. Someone once defined news as "anything that makes a reader say 'gee whizz' " – which is not an expression I would employ, due to my extensive and urbane vocabulary.

On this ocassion, trust me, neither that nor any stronger equivalents or variations were in any danger of being uttered during the hours I joined Georgie for her final shift. I know Sky Sports News is not designed to be watched continuously for four hours – that way madness lies – but during my stint the only genuine news was a drug ban for the rugby league player Martin Gleeson, and a victory for Novak Djokovic in a tennis match. Oh, and the fact that Georgie was moving to a different programme. On the same network.

They showed an old clip of Georgie dancing on some Christmas tape and her debut, reading the sports news in 2001. She did that cringeworthy TV presenter thing of covering her face and pretending to be all embarrassed. "I've changed. Tell me I have," she giggled. How very droll and irksome.

On this evidence, I actually thought she was better back in 2001, fresh out of Leeds University's broadcast journalism course – a little nervous, I expect, but not so you would notice – speaking carefully, clearly and precisely. Now she is super confident, and something of a star if Twitter is anything to go by. She races along at breakneck speed (pardon the unintentional F1 link there) with the "news" coming a poor second to her admittedly winning smile.

So, for those of you who missed it, Luka Modric may or may not be leaving Spurs in the summer, and Emile Heskey has a slight injury. And from now on you will have to get used to a new blonde telling you this stuff. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose

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drtpt · 14 years ago

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It's just not cricket...

I love cricket. These three words, simple though they may be, cannot and do not adequately convey the passion that lies within me for this most honourable of sports. To say that I adore it is a woeful understatement; to add that I cherish, venerate, appreciate, savour, treasure and exalt it would just about begin to dare to presume to start to express my true feelings for all things cricket related.

Whether it is the passionate, unimaginable elation of watching England crush, humble and decimate the Aussies during an Ashes series or the more humble, simple, sandwich-munching, wine-sipping simplicity of a languid yet relaxing county match on a mid-summers day, cricket offers a whole host of pleasures and an equal measure of emotion.

Over the years, the game has evolved, developed, expanded and erupted. Naturally, there are those purists who decry, detest and abhor the growth of the shorter forms of the game and consider it to be a dilution of the great traditions of test match cricket. For my part, I will never cease to extol the virtues of the good old five day Test Match as the finest form of the game whilst also being willing to embrace the disparate, deviated and entertaining shorter forms of the sport.

From the breakneck, rapid and exhilarating pyrotechnics of the T20 to the complex, tactical, patient pulchritude of a sun-soaked test match afternoon, my affection for and obsession with cricket is and shall remain steadfast.

Whether it is grappling with the intricate complexities of the perennially befuddling Duckworth-Lewis scoring system or debating the relative merits of the 'Doosra', arguing about the shot selection of a player or admiring the tactical acumen of placing a man at silly-mid-off the ball before a catch is lobbed to that very location, cricket never fails to offer an almost infinite number or talking points for those of us who love, adore and cherish the sound of leather on willow and the sight of a breached boundary.

Last week, however, a much more lamentable spotlight has been cast on the cricketing world. Mercifully, though there is naturally some residual and associated infamy for the sport, the real issue was the criminal conduct of three Pakistani players. Their agent was also involved but, as he has no history as a player, my contempt for him ensures that he is not worthy of further discussion.

Salman Butt, Mohammad Asif and Mohammad Amir are the players in question, players who will now be forever tarnished by these lurid indiscretions and the disgrace that has resulted. In the most stark moment of this troubling case of 'spot fixing', the sight of these erstwhile professionals who graced the hallowed halls of Lord's Cricket Ground departing Southwark Crown Court in prison vans was indeed sobering. Sadly, it was a necessary vision, at least in terms of a deterrent for any other unscrupulous miscreants who are entertaining the idea of such scurrilous actions in the future.

Put briefly, these unscrupulous Pakistani cricketers are charlatans of honesty and traitors to professionalism who have been proven guilty of the crime of 'spot-fixing'. This is not, it should be clarified, match fixing. Rather, it is the undertaking and execution of illegal behavior which leads to a precise and specific element of that game or match being fixed. In this case, it was the bowling of no-balls at certain points in a particular, predetermined over that represents the foundation of the corruption.

Realistically, spot fixing is a billion dollar business, especially in the Indian sub-continent. It would be somewhat naive, foolish and unrealistic to suggest that the convictions of these three cheats will cleanse the game of such abhorrent corruption or eradicate the possibility of a recurrence. What the guilty verdicts do achieve, however, is a new desire to tackle this problem head on.

It is not a secret that the ICC, cricket's global governing body, has been known for a somewhat reluctant, reticent and, some would say, cowardly approach to even acknowledging the problem, let alone unearthing and prosecuting the offenders. Now, the ICC can and must abdicate this feeble stance. It must be swiftly stated and written into cricketing law, that, additional to any stiff legal penalties, professional cricketers will pay with lifetime bans if they so much as flirt with match or spot fixing.

This level of severity will serve notice to all cricketers and redefine the ICC as a respectable governing body rather than a flailing, faltering and historically ineffective collection of professionally impotent executives.

As one who has paid to watch many a match from Manchester to Cape Town, Christchurch to Jamaica, London to Durban and many more sumptuous locations, the idea that any of that action was somehow engineered illegally is morally reprehensible to me and leaves me feeling cheated. Thankfully, I do not consider that it is a widespread pandemic or quotidian occurrence on cricket pitches across the world. Cricket is, in my opinion, played by ladies and gentlemen who guard the integrity of the game, defend the honour of each other and love it in all sincerity with no desire to indulge in cheating of an kind.

Regardless of how infrequent such crime may be, what these three men have done is undeniably incredulous; in the sub-continent, cricketers enjoy hero worship usually reserved for and lavished on movie stars. It is a true honour to play for your country anywhere in the world, but you are put on a lofty perch in India and Pakistan. From such an apex, the fall from grace is even more steep and perilous. Not only have these convicted cheats shown themselves to be greedy and unscrupulous, they have betrayed all who have supported them, cheered for them, worshipped them and indeed, paid to watch their sporting 'heroes'. For shame.

Ultimately, cricket as whole will not be terminally injured by this scandal or spoiled by the iniquitous few. Perhaps the fact that such corruption will now be the next thing 'fixed' is the sporting silver lining to this ominous cricketing cloud.

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drtpt · 14 years ago

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No offence taken

When it comes to irksome, nauseating, galling and self-indulgent characters, few evoke such vehement passion, incendiary irascibility and deep distemper within me than those who are too easily offended. For want of a more palatable parlance, these 'politically correct', linguistically haughty, thin-skinned whiners are, once more, running amok. To make it worse, these charlatans of moral perfection use various media forums as the lectern from which to furnish us with their misbegotten sermons of the self-righteous. Whether it is pious outrage at the utterance of a certain word, unneccessary umbrage at the usage of offensive images within the media or misguided categorization of a race, class or ethnic group, political correctness is there to tell us where we caused offence.

We are constantly bombarded with proclamations from these self-appointed guardians of 'decency' to the point of distraction. Sadly, in many cases, it is just such pharisaical insistence that we adhere to essentially unachievable perfection in thought, word and deed that often renders such sanctimonious sermons counterproductive. Clean moral slates are achieved by choice not enforcement, such is the human condition in response to overly priggish, unsolicited instruction.

Naturally, there is a multitude of examples that could be cited but, for the sake of brevity, let's use the Ricky Gervais storm in a teacup that brewed this past week. On his Twitter account he was found to have employed and repeatedly deployed the word "mong". Naturally, as a comedian, he used it in a jocular context with no additional sense of deliberate desire to cause offence.

For the uninformed, and to ensure that readers are aware that I comment from an informed perspective, Down's Syndrome is a distinct form of mental disability which also manifests itself with physical characteristics. It later became known as 'Mongoloid' from which the derivation 'Mong' has its' genesis. This was due to an assertion from Dr. John Down, the eponymous physician who categorized this condition, that sufferers shared facial similarities with people from a particular Mongolian race. There, you are now aware of the background.

Language is, of course, an ever-evolving, organic and complicated form of communication. Since the days of Dr. Down, the word 'mong' has become frequently employed to insult someone "lacking in cerebral or physical ability" to quote that well know bastion of modern dialect, the Urban Dictionary. This was the context in which Mr. Gervais was using it, of that I am certain. This position has been corroborated by the protagonist himself who explained himself clearly to assure that people knew the meaning he intended and to assuage the absurd hysteria that resulted.

As with any article, tweet, blog, news item, television show, website or publication, there are always those who will take offence from content. With democracy comes freedom of speech which, in turn, guarantees that we will hear, see, read, watch or in some way be exposed to material which is not agreeable to us. This is a direct result of our constitutional right and an unavoidable, residual consequence of allowing personal autonomy in an ultimately deterministic universe. To be an enemy of free speech is to be the adversary of democracy and to adopt such a tyrannical standpoint is nothing short of scandalous.

What never ceases to amaze, astound, confound, plague, abrade and infuriate me is the seeming delight that some people take in taking offence. The unelected and obstreperous moral majority, it would seem, have oodles of time to search out that which offends their finely-tuned sensibilities. Furthermore, they are happy to expend their remaining energy writing, shouting, protesting and tabling their disconcertion with an evangelical verve. What, in the name of all things good, would these sorts do if we lived in a politically correct, socially equal, religiously united, philosophically undivided, fiscally fair, racially harmonious, sexually equitable utopia?

Ultimately, being too easily offended devalues the very concept of being affronted. Most of us have a decency threshold and a moral compass, but whether you like it or not, a day will not dawn where everything you hear, see, read or expose yourself to will fit into your personal global view or align with your sensibilities. It is not opposing something with which I take issue, as I embrace our democratic right to challenge anything and everything we choose to; rather, it is the moral evangelizing that serves to demonize libertarianism, disavow personal choice, eradicate freedom of choice and, frankly, enforce often autocratic and dictatorial restrictions through the back door of censorship.

Whatever your personal bête noire, bane or bugbear, feel free to be offended, by all means, but react, reflect and renounce with democratic dignity rather than preaching, pushing and bullying your opponents. If you do not agree with my deliberations, cogitations and ultimate thesis, you know what you can do...

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drtpt · 14 years ago

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Honesty is (usually) the best policy...

It will come as no great surprise, to those of who consider cynicism, suspicion and misanthropy to be vital arrows in their metaphorical quiver, that today's news included more grubby disclosures of withering dishonesty from a politician. Dr Liam Fox, M.P. has been, rather appropriately hounded, chased and pummeled into submission regarding various misdemeanours pertaining to the allowances made for his friend, Adma Werritty. His breathtaking misappropriation of money and inappropriate use of parliamentary privilege leaves us questioning the honesty of our elected officials. Once more, integrity is lacking, honesty is AWOL and transparency jettisoned in favour of mirky mistruths and shady shenanigans.

It is not the scurrilous, unscrupulous or clandestine details of this case that I wish to examine; rather, it has summoned within me a more far reaching internal debate regarding the issue of honesty. Often held up as a virtuous, desirable and indispensable quality in a person, integrity is perhaps one of the most critical elements that we look for in ourselves and others. Whether it is political parties, leaders, corporate giants, teachers, law enforcement officers, butchers, bakers or candlestick makers, we are right to expect honesty and integrity from people even if we are not necessarily convinced that it will transpire.

Naturally, much of what we say, do or think is not subject to a rigorous decision making process such is the quotidian, pedestrian nature of human life. Thus, when we are faced with the chance to decide between truth and dishonesty, it becomes more seminal in determining who and indeed what we truly are. The truth, on occasion, can cost us dearly. Emotional, personally, psychologically or fiscally, honesty can come with a hefty price tag. Perhaps it is only when such dire ramifications are the potential results of undiluted candour that our choice represents a true reflection of our character and reflects our alleged belief in such truth-telling.

Before I proceed, however, I must add a disclaimer to allay any outpourings that may suggest I am holding myself up as a paragon of virtue on this most prickly of topics. There is not one amongst us with a rational, working or inquiring mind that has not played fast and lose with the truth or employed a rather economical strategy with candidness. It would be difficult to extrapolate, examine and identify every single reason for these occasional and deceitful diversions suffice to say, we are all guilty of the crime whilst not all necessarily sharing the same motive.

That said, and I ask advance forgiveness for this momentary self indulgence, I consider myself a man of overall integrity and would hope that past loves, close friends and those I hold dear would concur with this. If they suggest differently, I would merely question their honesty... There. Glad we cleared that up.

It was the renowned philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche who once stated, on receipt of a lie from a friend, "I am not upset that you lied to me, I am upset that I can no longer believe you". Prima facie, this is a critical element of any debate or thesis surrounding the concept of being honest, earnest, candid or truthful. It may also be suggested that the overall integrity that a person holds dear stems from whether they actually lie to themselves.

I have known those who try to convince themselves, i.e. lie to themselves, that they love someone even if they are aware of the ultimate flaw in their motives for self-delusion. Others will lie to create a false sense of stature or self-appointed authority. There are even those who lie due to an arguably pathological inability to tell it as it is. Whatever the reason for these mistruths, it perhaps shows that, on some level, lies always strive to deceive but they predominantly fail to deliver, even to those who utter them.

Regardless of the content or issue, truthfulness must surely begin with a self-examination and assurance of individual moral fortitude. If we cannot be honest with ourselves, perhaps it is entirely beyond reasonable expectation to look for a more universal honesty with others. If we use love as an example, as few things cause as much euphoria and dysphoria in life, honesty is truly the fundamental principle on which any amorous relationship should be founded. Moreover, to enter into the covenant of 'loving someone' is something that should only be done with sincerity. Sadly, ersatz love is a lie that may have speed but has rather less endurance.

If we take a wider lens, it is possible to suggest that being truthful is, as with any incendiary, controversial or contrary issue, is something much less absolute in certain circumstances. Indeed, the truth can wound, bruise, injure, destroy, deflate, upset, discombobulate, confound, unsettle or emotionally incapacitate as surely as it can inspire, enlighten, relieve or inform us. Truth is indeed something that we should uphold but a concept which should also be held to be occasionally floored.

As with the necessary killing within the context or wartime operations and the seemingly absolute concept of murder as a crime, truthfulness is admirable, suggested, preferred but occasionally misplaced. Avoiding such logical fallacies or sweeping generalisations is, at the right time and for the correct reasons, as laudable as the integrity for which we all strive. For the purest who may disagree, I assume they have never informed a child of Santa' s existence, the fiscal generosity of the tooth fairy or the relocation of their beloved dog to a more palatial farm in the country...

Though aware of exceptions for the sake of spared feelings, diplomatic necessity or deliberately constructed obfuscation I do believe that being earnest is indeed important. This is not a moral crusade to extinguish dishonesty as that would render me supercilious, not to mention naive. Rather, once more, I am merely suggesting that we examine what we value in the hope that integrity makes it onto the list.

Perhaps Shakespeare's Mariana had it right in All's Well that Ends Well when she enlightened us with a simple yet exquisite phrase, "No legacy is so rich as honesty".

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drtpt · 14 years ago

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Editorial Misconduct or giving the readers what they want?

G.K.Chesterton, a truly fine journalist, novelist and essayist once proposed that "journalism largely consists in saying "Lord Jones is dead" to people who never knew that Lord Jones was alive". As a satirical commentary on fatuous, spurious and oft inconsequential news stories this is as penetrating as it is pertinent. On the day that I am writing this missive, my pre-work perusal of the morning headlines has informed me of many things; from the drunken debauchery of rugby players to the imminent eviction of illegally stationed gypsy travellers; from Yemeni forces murdering protesters on the streets of Sanaa to news of President Obama offering some half-baked policies to tackle the perennial American fiscal deficit.

I am fully aware that, while one item of news is riveting to one it may well be entirely without attraction to another. It would be a rather dull world if we all wished to read about the same things all the time. Indeed, there are occasions on which I chance upon stories that, if not for an editorial decision, I would be blissfully unaware of even though my work involves extensive research. Thus, having established beyond any reasonable doubt (at least on a prima facie basis) that variety is an unequivocally essential component of the news, we can take a little time to dig deeper and question the selection policies that determine what makes the editorial grade.

Sometimes, news that is reported and laughed off as frivolous is actually hurtful, damaging and irresponsible to those who are accused, involved or wrongly implicated. When a story is designed to titillate and amuse rather than inform and enlighten, questions surely need to be asked of these seemingly diluted journalistic standards. Let's take the Mike Tindall story as an example. Putting it simply, the England rugby player/husband of a minor royal was filmed and photographed indulging in a few beers after his team had won a World Cup match in New Zealand. During this excursion, it was alleged that he was flirting, frolicking and fumbling with a woman who has been affectionately identified as a 'mystery blond'. It was liberally daubed all over the red-tops and sordid 'revelations' of this alleged indiscretion will no doubt follow on pages 7, 8, 9, 10 etc.,etc., as is their way.

At this juncture I should make one point painfully clear: I am not being haughty, aloof or snooty about tabloids. They have their place, as do broadsheets. In fact, it could be argued as a thesis that at least the red-tops are candid and unapologetic in their efforts to sensationalize, exaggerate and embellish for the sake of sales. Broadsheets often cover the more salacious of these stories but in an almost self-righteously subtle manner. Rather than besmear their masthead with this dross, they add a smidgen of gravitas, stir in a little sanctimony and finish with a thinly-veiled attempt to critique the very existence of the story and the way in which the tabloids have made this ephemeral nonsense into an imperiously disproportionate issue. Ultimately, they are still covering these stories and therefore, we should not exculpate the broadsheets...Culpa teneat suos auctores.

If we extrapolate the kernel of information and expunge the personalities from this hullabaloo, essentially, we are being asked to offer amazement at news that a rugby player got drunk and flirted with a woman. If that is indeed news, I fully expect to see subsequent 'shocking' headlines informing me that a rock star has taken cocaine, a politician has reneged on a pre-election commitment or a policeman has arrested a miscreant. Technically of course, these are 'stories'. The question is whether they are newsworthy. It is especially imperative to pose this inquiry when such reports are light on facts and heavy on damaging accusations.

Ultimately, I care not one jot for the individuals involved here but such unashamed ambivalence for persons who I do not know does not extend to a rejection of the underlying principal at play. Not only are such stories designed to titillate, gratify and encourage prurient salivation, it is done so in the knowledge that such 'revelations' threaten to damage a marriage for the sake of an augmented circulation and smug satisfaction of a morally reprehensible editor. After the recent phone-hacking debacle, is this really sound judgement?

I seem to recall that, in the aftermath of Princess Diana's death, ardent proclamations were made with regard to behaviour of the press: a new, respectful era was to dawn, privacy was to be reclaimed by the rich and famous, hounding people for salacious stories and compromising photos was to be consigned to the annuls of history. And yet, here we find ourselves, some fourteen years hence and once more, spurious stories are fair game, regardless of the consequences to the alleged or featured protagonists. Put simply, the overwhelming sentiments of rage and sanctimonious bleating of the allegedly appalled and infuriated masses ex post facto the demise of those "hounded" by the media (Princess Diana, more latterly Amy Winehouse for example) is all too quickly arrested to allow for more indecorous drooling at the next whiff of scandal.

Few things vex, madden or distemper me more than hypocrisy. Those who take visible umbrage and cry foul when the press mistreats people, regardless of name, profession or social standing, and then rush to buy the latest glossy or tabloid to revel in the newest obloquy, defamation or malicious ambush are the worst variety of hypocrite. In my opinion, these charlatans of sincerity are nothing more than licentious libertines, primed to be inveigled by the literary vagabonds who unfairly cheapen journalism.

As ever, my point, though it may have been made in a circumlocutory manner, is not complicated. Sometimes, the great British press, of whom there are many admirable, card-carrying representatives, all too often takes leave of its' collective senses. If only this minority fraternity of poppycock peddling plebians would stop tarnishing true journalism by touting absolute hogwash, perhaps the masses would be better informed about the real news. I am not saying that truth should not be reported, regardless of how lascivious, coarse and, frankly, puerile the content may be; rather, if this nauseating bile must be published, at least a crumb of accuracy and truth would make it less deplorable.

Sadly, I fear that the words of a truly reputable journalist, A.J.Liebling, will continue to resonate, "People everywhere tend to confuse what they read in the newspapers with news". Now THAT would be a refreshing headline to see on a front page tomorrow morning.

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drtpt · 14 years ago

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Caveat emptor...

Many years ago I found myself frequenting a particularly charming bar in New York City. As oft happens, I struck up a conversation with a stranger, inspired by a recent newspaper story regarding the millions of US dollars spent by companies to secure the lucrative advertising slots during the Super Bowl. For the uninitiated, and I myself am disinterested on a sporting level, this is the annual showcase match marking the culmination of each American Football season.Much of this conversation has been lost in the mists of time, but I recall him quoting Canadian humourist Stephen Leacock: "Advertising is the science of arresting human intelligence just long enough to get money from it". Naturally, this penetrating soundbite ushered in a dialectical dialogue appertaining to the subject of advertising and how, where some are immediately seduced and convinced by it, others are perennially perplexed by and intent on rejecting it with lofty cynicism. Love it with a Shakespearean passion or loath it with an almost Eridan hatred, advertising has radically altered our way of life. It lengthens television broadcasts, relegates stories to the subsequent page in a newspaper; it populates, vandalises and decorates almost every webpage we dare to frequent, wallpapers tube stations, glosses up magazines, resplendently illuminates billboards and has even migrated onto blimps high above us. Perhaps that is the kind of advertising that truly does go over our head. It is, I would humbly suggest, impossible to avoid adverts, commercials, placards, product exhibits, endorsements, classifieds, circulars, flyers or sales communiques. Thus, the seminal question appears to be how and why we react to such unyielding bombardments attempting to separate us from our cash, hard earned or otherwise. I often see, hear or watch an advertisement and consider how blundering, bulky, bumbling, bungling, unpolished, unrefined, maladroit and atrociously amateurish it is. It is not surprising, therefore, that such overtures, rather than encouraging me to swear allegiance to that brand or rush to own it, encourage me to actively search out alternative options. To my overwhelming pleasure, however, a few moments later I am captivated, charmed, ecstatic and full of unbridled joy with how magnificent, marvelous and outstanding other commercials turn out to be. I am still not buying their product based on this but I am, if ever in desperate need of whatever tat they are hustling, unlikely to fervently and deliberately look elsewhere. One of the most irritating, nauseating and irksome tendencies displayed by advertisers is their frequent attempts to be clever, innovative or complex.On occasion, they do this almost to the point of being surreal and certainly to the point where it is almost impossible to recognise, identify and appreciate their product. Clarity, simplicity, transparency and decipherability are all too often jettisoned in favour of confusion, befuddlement, complexity and confusion. I am not, for one moment, suggesting that none of us 'get' such advertisements. Far from it. There are many of us who deplore, repudiate, abhor and dislike such complicated adverts even when we fully comprehend them. Others we love as an almost guilty pleasure despite our best attempts not to. Rarely do you hear a conversation in a public house regarding a particular commercial rather than a soap opera plot or headline news but this does not mean we do have an opinion. Next time you pop for a pint, strike up such a discussion about a particular television ad and I can assure you that, all who have seen it will be all too swift to proffer their opinion of that rather than the product itself. Let's face it, adverts have a brief window of opportunity and overtly labarythian commercials, though I am sure there are exceptions, rarely work with the masses. What I am acceding to is that, whereby I enjoy, embrace, encourage and enthuse innovation to a point, I also acknowledge that it can be counter-productive. Even if some such offerings are memorable, toe-tappingly catchy or bodciously noteworthy, their notoriety is often one which makes us dislike the very product they are putting forward. Furthermore, and this is critical, we may love, adore, hate or detest any commercial but if our brand loyalty or commercial needs are already designated, we will not buy that product. From meerkats to monsters, car insurance canines to toilet tissue felines, texting bees to anthropomorphised chocolate coated peanuts and so on, absurb gimmickry, however fleetingly amusing and ultimately harmelss, seem to be the stock in trade of advertisers the world over. I once more reiterate, I am not suggesting censorship nor am I a luddite; instead, I am merely suggestion and sanctioning a more direct style that is free of unneccesary chicanery, lacking duplicity and cloaked in a direct, unapologetic honesty. Well thought out advertising does not need to be disingenuous, deceptive or illusory cowering under the banner of 'clever'. Put simply, it someone needs your product, they will buy it; sometimes this will be because of your advertisement, sometimes despite it. Yes, there are times when we are all swayed, encouraged or convinced by a jolly old commercial that resonates for whatever reason, but on the whole, I must say that advertising is often wasted on me. Perhaps it is a generational issue; maybe young people are commercial sponges ready to soak in such overtures and frequently oscillate between brands where those over, let's say thirty five for sake of argument, tend to be more discerning or already married to their brands of choice. Either way, I offer my most fervid, vehement and impassioned incantation to whatever capitalist creators, advertising aristocrats and marketing moguls are shaping our commercial world to see fit to lay off the more intricate and opaque styles they seem to worship. As ever, I can but borrow the words of a true genius to fully explicate what I am attempting to say. On this occasion, I offer the words of that prodigious, towering, tremendous, vast, voluminous French writer of the 19th century, Monsieur Victor Hugo…“An invasion of armies can be resisted, but not an idea whose time has come”. Caveat emptor, as the seduction of the advert may precipitate a brief honeymoon period but ultimately, it could be an acrimonious divorce if it doesn't do what it says on the tin...

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drtpt · 14 years ago

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Come back fiction, all is forgiven

It was the English poet, romantic, cad, bounder and politician Lord George Gordon Byron that once intoned, "What is fame? The advantage of being known by people of whom you yourself know nothing and for whom you care just as little". In a week which saw the return of various reality television shows to British television, these words seem as poignant, admissible and weighty as they were when first they were uttered. From the putrid, excruciating and talentless souls of The X Factor to the even more deluded, humiliated and desperate has-been/never were simpletons attempting to resuscitate their terminally flailing fame, I consider such outputs a blight on our television landscape. Furthermore, I categorize such déclassé, baseborn and raffish drivel to be nothing short of offensive and an insult to whatever intelligence I claim to be blessed/cursed with. Before I proceed with what may well represent a missive filled with vitriolic diatribes, (if well researched and exquisitely explained) I should muster a disclaimer; I am in no way suggesting, promoting or exalting the notion of censorship and fully defend the right of creators to create and viewers to view whatever warms, entertains or tickles their fancy. There, I said it. Much as it pained me. Thus, if you wish to carp, bellyache, whimper, grumble or snivel about my position on this, you are free to do so. I proffer no apology for being stridently fervent with my convictions. I think it would be fair to say that reality television is a genre that polarizes opinion. Few people occupy the middle ground of nonchalance; on one side people tend to loathe, detest, abhor, execrate and castigate it as a malignant scourge that should be summarily ignored. In the opposing camp people love, venerate, adore, embrace and obsess about it with a ritualistic reverence and esteemed devotion that almost deifies comprehension. Naturally, you are all aware which of those parties would command my allegiance so there is no need to pose the question. Let's be clear about something: I am not installing myself as some kind of television tyrant or sociological sage, rather I simply fail to comprehend why this genre is so unspeakably popular. Whether it is the celebrity or wannabee forms of such programs, they quite simply leave me cold at best or festering, bristling and seething with undiluted ire at worse. If you will allow me, or indeed if you protest, I shall outline a truncated list of my grievances on this matter. If I were to make such a missive exhaustive it would surely become stretched and elongated beyond the boundaries of this forum. When I was at the age of addressing, acknowledging and fashioning my hopes, aspirations and ambitions for my career, it was relatively simple as my options were two-fold: either plough on in the academic world and install myself at whichever University would have me, or enter the workforce. I feel no need to delineate, illuminate or explain further, it really was this straightforward. Education would invariably lead to jobs in the legal, medical, administrative, political, banking, teaching or researching worlds, to name but a few. My point is, we had dreams, hopes and designs that were intended to reflect our years of hard work when we were fortunate enough to realize them. Naturally, such aspirations were merely a reflection of professional purpose, not our 'other' dreams of being published authors, Premier League footballers or outrageously capricious stars of stage and screen. Though there are many young people who still profess the desire and pursue the appropriate course to join the aforementioned career paths, reality TV of the X Factor/Britain's got (a distinct lack of) Talent variety have created a new form of 'ambition'. Warbling a previously loved tune or juggling monkeys while eating swords is now seen as a viable career path or an unguarded gateway to undeserved fame and fortune. If we were rewarding the truly talented, I could almost accept it. What rankles, irritates and exasperates me, however, is our penchant for granting fame to all and sundry, especially those who are inexplicably afforded the dubious honour of extending their fleeting fame due to merely being on television. Furthermore, we insist on parading bewildered, dysfunctional troglodytes in front of judgmental, sanctimonious, self-satisfied millionaires who sneer, lambaste and fustigate them for national entertainment. Then there is the 'celebrity' versions of reality television. If the previous form discussed is nothing more than intellectually-bereft debris, this is almost more contemptible. People whose flame of fame is fading out shamelessly attempting to rekindle their already questionable hour of power. Pathetic, pitiable, deplorable, grotty, rueful and lamentable only serves to begin to describe these prisoners of their own ego. To call them second-rate would be a generous promotion but clearly, they are intoxicated by their own screen persona and, sadly, viewers are equally enchanted. For shame. Ultimately, people argue that reality television is harmless. Maybe it is. I beg leave to disagree. When this putrid, squalid genre infiltrates society to the point of obsession, shapes career ambitions and offers even the most negligible chance of instant, superficial fame, I would argue that it is, at least in part and on deeper examination, somewhat detrimental to our nation. Yes, it entertains, but it also warps, distorts and desecrates our notion of 'reality', not to mention our concept of superb, glorious, noble, elegant and august television programming of which there are still, thankfully, many laudable examples. My festering sense of displeasure with regard to reality television is clearly evident but, to borrow a more noble sentiment from a man with true talent, I'm not the only one. As the great poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow so delightfully ruminated, "The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well and doing well whatever you do without thought of fame. If it comes at all, it will come because it is deserved, not because it is sought after". If only this were the case more often, if only...

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