Porter’s Pensées

I’m puzzled by why I don’t feel more gutted after West Ham’s ignominious defeat by Manchester City in the third round of the FA cup last night. Well, not all that puzzled. It wasn’t as if ‘we woz robbed’, like in last week’s game against Man United. (A man wrongly sent off in the 13^th minute, his red card later rescinded by the FA, but by that time, of course, it was too late: 10 vs. 11. Plus a clearly offside Ibrahimovich goal.) Yes, there was a dodgy penalty in last night’s game, but WH could and should have bounced back from that. Man City were better. One bad penalty can’t explain a 5-0 defeat. And at home.

Except it’s not really home to them, or to the fans. That’s what everyone’s saying. Last year West Ham were pulled out of their original and natural home, the Boleyn Ground in the genuine East End of London: a ground that only accommodated 35,000 spectators, but with a tremendous intimacy – the front rows only an arms-length away from the players – and in an environment full of East End atmosphere – mean narrow streets, pie and eel stalls, the vibrant multi-cultural population that it has always had, as the first stopping-over point for waves of immigrants to Britain from the Huguenots onwards; to be plonked down in a huge stadium not built for football, and unsuited to it, and which feels empty and soulless, in just about everybody’s opinion (I’ve not been yet), and certainly not a ‘home’ in the way I remember the old Upton Park to have been. I’ve bored you about this before – https://bernardjporter.com/2016/05/11/goodbye-to-boleyn/ – so I won’t go on about it any more. Whether the move can account for the team’s poor performances so far this season, as many have suggested, can’t be known. But it explains why I no longer feel as deeply – as ‘gutted’ – about those performances as I used to.

And of course there are far more serious things going on in the world just now to gut one. Syria, for one. The state of the NHS. (I’m about to have an op for a hernia – my belly-button looks like a ripe plum – but, I’m thinking, should I waste their hard-pressed doctors’ time with such trivialities just now?) Then there’s Trump. And Brexit. One could – and perhaps should – go on. Football is only a game, after all.

But aren’t all these problems, even including football’s present condition, part and parcel of the same thing? They’re all the effects of neo-liberal globalisation (or globalising neo-liberalism), whereby rich capitalists – one of West Ham’s owners is an ex-porn king, another is a wealthy Tory Dame – take over the people’s assets, with no regard for the cultures they were nurtured in, in order to turn them into financial assets, in a market which is worldwide, and ruled only by profit. Our economies and societies are subject to the same seemingly irrepressible force. Hence the many variegated protests that are going on now against ‘globalisation’ (or what I prefer to call ‘late-stage capitalism’); from Trump’s dodgy victory in the USA, to nativist and nationalist movements in Britain and Europe; to the left-wing movements against privatisation (and hence globalisation) of the NHS; to this: the widespread discontent at the reduction of our once great ‘People’s Game’ (to take the title of Jim Walvin’s fine 1975 history of it) to a plaything or investment opportunity for the rich, manned by foreign mercenaries. (See https://bernardjporter.com/2015/01/09/mercenaries-in-football/.) If only people could see the connexion. It might be a political as well as a footballing education for them.

My recent TLS piece about 1956 has given rise to some critical letters in the subsequent issue, two of which homed in on my suggestion that it was mainly men who benefitted from the period, while women – not yet inspired by feminism – were left behind. Here they are.

(No. 1)  Sir,

Your reviewer is mistaken when he says that ‘women [were] essentially unliberated in 1956. We had the vote, married women could own and dispose of their property as spinsters and widows had long been able to do, we were educated as boys were in the state system, we could get degrees at Oxford and Cambridge, all the professions, except the Church, were open to us, we could sit in Parliament and work in executive positions in business and commerce. I was twenty-two at the time, an assistant buyer in United Africa Company, part of Unilever, doing the same job as many male contemporaries – admittedly paid less than they were but not paying for myself when we went to the cinema. We had vacuum cleaners, electric irons and refrigerators. Our marriages were, on average, no less happy or unhappy than marriages and partnerships to-day, as far as I can see.

If this sounds class-orientated I can confirm from observation how much was added to family incomes in the 1950s by wives who took in washing, minded children and worked in the fields. The Second World War, as many have written,  proved  that women could work and that they might and should. There were many men in menial jobs at that time.

Twenty-first century feminists are dwarfs standing on the shoulders of giants, not always grateful enough to the  giants who strove and campaigned in the nineteenth and early twentieth century for changes in law and society which I have listed  (I am sure that my list is not exhaustive) and for the inventors who applied their talents to developing  domestic machinery. Bachelors have benefited from the latter also.

Antonia Southern,

Yew Trees House,

Bratton,

Westbury, Wiltshire  BA13 4RQ.

(No. 2)  Sir,

I write to comment on the review by Bernard Porter of the book : “1956 The year that changed Britain” by Francis Beckett and Tony Russell. He says he found the 1950s rather exciting, but adds a caveat: “of course I’m only one person and a pretty lucky one at that. I’m not a woman for a start”

Well, I am a woman and I remember the 1950s with the same enthusiasm. In many ways our lives and that of our mothers was getting better: rationing finally ended in the early ‘50s: new foods arrived: avocados, aubergines, together with a swathe of books by Elizabeth David. Dior’s New Look brought glamour into our lives. We had a new monarch, young and a woman.   Home-making became progressively easier with the arrival of washing machines, fridges, spin dryers, promising freedom from drudgery that would liberate women to work outside the home.

I, like Bernard Porter, was lucky. I was one of a generation of young women who, the first in their families’ history, went to university at the state’s expense. We graduated into a world with plenty of jobs and steady full time employment. In my first months at the BBC at the age of 22, we discussed my pension arrangements. Of course women earned less than men…..but that hasn’t changed!.

The cultural scene was beginning its great post-war flourishing: The Arts Council founded in 1948, the Edinburgh Festival in 1947, the Aldeburgh Festival in 1948.   In BBC radio, where I worked with producers such as Louis MacNeice, there was a golden age of new drama: Pinter, Beckett, Wesker, Mortimer, This reflected the theatre scene: John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger was merely the most famous of what was called ‘kitchen sink drama:”   Delaney, Wesker, Barstow. The talented working class moved in on stage and films: David Mercer, John Braine, Alan Sillitoe, Edward Bond.   The air was thick with hopes and ideas.   And women enjoyed it as much as men.

Joan Bakewell

House of Lords

Gosh, the great Joan Bakewell! I’m flattered. I also take all the points in her letter, and some of those in Antonia Southern’s, which indeed strengthen the main theme of my article, which was that the 1950s were a far more exciting and (mainly) hopeful time than they have been painted in post-Thatcherian retrospect; while still however maintaining that this was a weak time for feminism, and that the material advances made by or on behalf of women still left an awful lot more for their successors to do. It’s not a very serious point, perhaps: but I wonder if the common soubriquet attached to Dame Joan at the time – she must remember it – of ‘the thinking man’s bit of crumpet’, doesn’t illustrate the advances that needed to be made after then, and have been. Only a Nigel Farage could come out with such an essentially sexist comment today. And she was almost the only intelligent woman allowed on the telly then.

I made these points about women in the original article firstly because I realised that, as a man, my situation in the 1950s was a privileged one; and secondly, because I wanted to preclude letters to the TLS that would have pointed that out. I’ve little doubt that they would have flooded in. ‘It was all right for him, but – like most men – he neglects the other half of humanity.’ On the whole I prefer Dame Joan’s gentle chiding.

So I won’t be responding in the TLS; only here.

PS. I’ve just remembered I posted another piece about 1956 on this blog, which you can access if you can’t get into the TLS article. I was originally commissioned to write the latter a year ago by the LRB, which said they liked it but in the end couldn’t find room for it – it was probably all the Brexit pieces coming in – but still paid me for it, generously, and allowed me to pass it on to the good old TLS. Here’s the blog version, which elaborates on the TLS piece:  https://bernardjporter.com/2016/02/28/1956/.

My prediction for the new year. President Trump is assassinated, by his own Secret Service, which however manages to blame it on the Russians. If it happens, remember where you read it first. If not, forget it.

Gott nytt År!

My chosen field of ‘imperialism’ must be one of the most worthwhile areas of historical study, as it features an aspect of what appears to be a fundamental human attribute, which is to expand. Humans have always done this: sought new areas of the world to explore, settle or conquer. If they hadn’t, as I’ve written somewhere else, we would all still be living today in the Rift valley of modern-day Kenya, where it is all supposed to have started. When it involves settling in new countries, it’s called ‘colonization’; when this is done at the expense of other peoples, it’s called ‘imperialism’; when it is done merely to satisfy humankind’s curiosity, it’s called ‘exploration’. Usually all three phenomena are mixed, albeit unequally, which can blur the boundaries and lead cynics to attribute what they regard as ‘imperialistic’ motives – meaning, by this understanding of the word, aggressive and acquisitive motives – to all of them.

My studies have suggested that this is a gross libel on colonisers and explorers. Many of them simply wished to know, and to experience. ‘Discovering’ new parts of the world was little different from broadening one’s mind in other ways, like culturally, or scientifically. ‘Expansion’ can be a curse, when it manifests itself in what can properly be called ‘imperialism’, for example, or the excesses of capitalism. But it is also a basic human instinct, distinguishing our species from all others – at least, insofar as it is done consciously; and may – to leap ahead a little, conceptually and topographically – turn out to be the salvation of our human race.

I’m referring here, of course, to space exploration, which is certainly the only way to secure our very long-term future, even if we don’t mess up our planet before its natural end. There are many things about the human race that probably don’t deserve to survive during the aeons to come; but I for one would be sorry to think that Mozart, say, could ever be snuffed out, and so ultimately pointless.

Which is why we should welcome China’s recent announcement, that it is about to resume the task that the USA pioneered but then left unfinished several decades ago, to fly humans to the other side of the moon, then on to Mars, and then – who knows? (http://www.cbc.ca/news/technology/china-space-mission-moon-mars-2020-1.3913423.) Whatever the motives behind it – they could be bellicose, or merely nationalistic – it’s the best piece of news for humanity – perhaps the only bit of good news – to come up this year.

‘To boldly go…’ I wonder what the Chinese is for that? And whether they split their infinitives too?

What is happening just now is so obviously an existential crisis of capitalism, such as Marx foretold though not in quite the way he envisaged it – who in the nineteenth century could possibly have foreseen clowns like Trump and Farage? – that I’m surprised everyone can’t see it. Whatever the immediate causes of our current woes and idiocies, underneath them all lie the uncontrolled development and expansion of capitalism, its logic and its ideals; a system of economics which is of immeasurable value to humanity so long as it is carefully disciplined and subordinated to the latter’s other and more basic needs, but is bound to become destructive, and indeed self-destructive, when given the run of the park.

That two such stereotypical exemplars of modern capitalism as the property developer Trump and the hedge-fund investor Farage should be the agents of this destruction was unexpected, and is worrying in many ways – it would have been better if a couple of socialists, like Bernie and Jeremy, had been at the helm at the time – but is not entirely incongruous. Trump and Farage both stand against international trade arrangements which they feel to be detrimental to their own countries, and which are, objectively speaking, undemocratic: allowing commercial considerations to override the will of the people (e.g. TTIP). ‘Globalisation’, which is the neutral- and internationalist-sounding name given to this today (it used to be ‘imperialism’), is, as Lenin argued a century ago, the ‘last stage’ of capitalism, keeping it alive and moving when otherwise it might have collapsed under ‘the weight of its own contradictions’ earlier. Capitalism, that is, as an unfettered, self-powering engine allowed to ride roughshod. Capitalism as a tool is different. Most so-called and even self-styled ‘anti-capitalists’ understand that.

So, what is to come? Marx’s prediction, of the working classes taking over and building socialism, looks unlikely in the light of the recent weakening of working-class agency, for example the emasculation of the trade unions; and the bad odour attaching to ‘socialism’ – unfairly – as a result of its hi-jacking by the tyrannical USSR. Some form of Keynesian solution might be the ideal one. Either of these is, in my view, preferable to the third alternative, which is the right-wing one: nativism, nationalism, fascism, call it what you will. That it is reactionaries like Trump and Farage who have responded most successfully to and benefitted so spectacularly from the current crisis of capitalism fills me with foreboding. Marx might have been right about capitalism’s self-destructive propensities; but we can’t depend on his analysis of the ‘next stage’ to make it all right.

Still: Happy Boxing Day.

Great news for all real friends of Israel that the US is no longer voting against the UN’s Security Council resolution against further Jewish settlements on the West Bank. As an imperial historian I can imagine nothing more obviously and literally ‘imperialistic’ than the latter. And nothing more likely to further incite the Arabs.

Obama is doing a lot of good things now that he is no longer answerable to special interests and lobbies. His ban on oil drilling in the Arctic was another. It shows what he might have done, and the president he could have been, if he had not been beholden to what is laughably called American ‘democracy’.

Trump will try to row back on these, I imagine. Will he have the power?

Assange’s recent comments on Clinton and Trump (https://www.theguardian.com/media/2016/dec/24/julian-assange-donald-trump-hillary-clinton-interview) are unsettling for his supporters (like me), but should be considered seriously. He’s right about Clinton: a poor ‘establishment’ candidate, in my view, though it has been difficult for male pro-feminists to say so. She would probably have continued America’s interventionist mistakes in the Middle East. Trump might not; probably for the wrong reasons, and in harness with worse policies in other areas, e.g. nuclear; but at least he may change the game plan, in ways that could open up other opportunities. Yes, it pains me to write this, too.

Could Wikileaks have been responsible for Hillary’s failure? If so, it would be the most incredible act of revenge in history, since Mrs Bobbit (?) cut her husband’s balls off for cheating on her.

I have atheist friends who refuse to celebrate Christmas because it’s Christian, and socialist friends who grumble at it because it’s commercial. It’s certainly the latter. But one of the advantages for me, as an agnostic, of celebrating it in Sweden is the almost entire absence here of any Christian connotations: no cribs, baby Jesuses, wise men, or stars in the East. I imagine you see these in churches, but not, in my experience, in the streets, shops or homes. Instead the prevalent iconography features Tomtes (miniature Santas), trees, and goats. I think the goat was the animal that Odin, the original Santa Claus, rode around on at “midvinterblot”, distributing gifts. There’s a huge one made of straw erected every year in a small town called Gävle (below: thanks, Tilda), which is burned down by hooligans every time within a few hours. The Swedes find that rather funny.

It’s the irreligious aspect of a Swedish ‘Jul’ – their pre-Christian name for it – which I go for. Here Jul was always a people’s festival, celebrated by a multi-theist society – far preferable to single-god ones, which are apt to be more dogmatic and aggressive – until it was stolen from us by the Christians. Pagan festivals are always more fun than religious ones, even with the human sacrifices taken away. (‘You can’t get the virgins, you know.’)

OK, the commercialism is still pretty vulgar; and the food isn’t as toothsome as in the UK: ham and cold smoked mutton instead of roast turkey and the trimmings. But one can develop a taste for anything after a few glasses of aquavit or glögg – or preferably both. And the Swedes celebrate it early, on Julfaton (Xmas Eve), rather than on the day itself. That reduces the waiting, allows Santa to see his way (he comes in daylight), and dissociates it further from our ‘Christmas’. I’m looking forward to it, tomorrow. God Jul.

Featured on the cover of the current TLS, double Xmas issue; but you may have to buy it to read it.

http://www.the-tls.co.uk/articles/private/swinging-fifties/

I very much doubt that this really is the worst time ever in British history, though it’s beginning to feel like it. Obviously periods of war, famine, extreme poverty, political oppression and great natural catastrophes bring far more suffering to more people; and women have been worse off at almost any other time. But there may be one factor that distinguishes today from most other periods: which is the virtual extinction – in Britain at any rate – of hope. Even in war people can feel that things will be better afterwards; famines can be brought to an end, as can dictatorships and imperialisms; earthquakes and tsunamis will pass. However poor one is, one can bear it if one believes that things will improve in the future. Hope is what takes the edge off suffering: that bright small light at the end of the darkest tunnel, that encourages us to push on regardless.

This was why the 1850s and 1860s were such a ‘golden’ age in Britain’s history, despite the abject condition of most of her population – not to mention her exploited colonial subjects – which of course was far worse than today’s. (Dickens’s Hard Times, and the industrial novels of Mary Gaskell, bear this out.) The difference, however, is that most people then had hope for a better future. For the working classes the promise lay in the advance of their Chartist and Socialist movements, and in particular in the steady contemporary progress made towards parliamentary reform. For the capitalist middle classes the engine of ‘progress’ was supposed to be the advance of ‘free trade’. (We mustn’t forget that for liberals then, unlike the ‘new’ liberals of today, the free market was believed to conduce to greater social equality.) The grounds for these two classes’ hopes were different, indeed antagonistic; but they were both optimistic in their own ways, at what was in consequence a mainly optimistic time. And then, of course, there were those many Christians who believed that Jesus would make it better for everyone, if they continued to have faith. The future was rosy.

Can anyone believe that these days? We ‘progressives’, of course, have been terribly discouraged by the key events of 2016: Brexit, Trump, wage stagnation, growing inequality, Islamicist atrocities, climate change denial; which it is difficult to see as mere blips in the generally upward trend of human history. Even more discouraging is the lack on the Left of any leaders or movements, like the Labour Party and Trade Unions used to be, able to spearhead the cause of those who would like to be hopeful still. But turning to the other side: are the Trumpists and Farageists – history’s winners this year – any more hopeful? Do the Ukippers really believe that Britain can thrive – as opposed to merely exist – outside the EU? How many Americans truly and confidently believe that Trump can make America ‘great again’? How many ex-colonial subjects any longer think that things are going to get better for them? Who in the world has any faith at all in the likelihood of global poverty and inequality diminishing, or wars ceasing, or even in their planet being still habitable in – say – the next 100 years? Right wingers don’t sound very hopeful. Hence all their hatred and bile.

Which perhaps makes some sense of Nigel Farage’s latest obscenity: his labelling of ‘Hope not Hate’ – the movement set up in the wake of the murder of the MP Jo Cox by an English nationalist – as ‘extremist’. Perhaps ‘hope’ is ‘extreme’ now, no longer the normal state of mind of most of us which it was until fairly recently.

I’m reminded of the line by the John Cleese character in Clockwise, when during a farcical struggle across the country to get to his Headmaster’s Conference, he and his under-age pupil driver find themselves ditched beside the road, unable to move another yard. Suddenly, with all hope of reaching his destination seemingly lost, he relaxes. ‘I don’t mind the despair’, he says. ‘I can cope with despair. It’s the hope I can’t bear.’ Maybe that’s how we can cope with our modern political despair. Abandon hope. And – as it’s Christmas coming – get drunk.

And who knows, salvation might be just around the corner. That’s the message of Christmas, after all, in both its religious and original pagan forms.

My latest review: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/dec/21/empire-of-booze-henry-jeffreys-review. Just a fun piece. But – hey! – it’s Christmas.