1. R&R-Introduction
R&R-Introduction by Andrew Guthrie-Dow
Rants-&-Rambles (R&R) are one of the few pleasures people of a “certain-age” (i.e. old-farts) can still indulge in. What can start-out as a well-argued (but boring) position, backed by facts and conclusions, can with the benefit of age, degenerate into a slurry of self-contradicting views untroubled by evidence or truth. In extreme cases the sheer emotion generated by these views can propel any discourse into that exceptional category of a full-blown, unhinged-rant, totally untethered from reality. It’s one of the few things we get better at as we age. As the mood controlling neurons die-off, one’s visceral prejudices can be seen, heard and experienced by all, in their full glory.
As an example, take the subject of patriotism. What’s so great about it? Why is it supposed to be a good thing to be patriotic? Wasn’t joining the Hitler-Youth patriotic? And as you gained your merits like Brownie-points from activities such as storming trenches and ratting on Jewish friends, were these not visible signs of pride of your country? The sad fact is that they were indeed patriotic activities, but simultaneously, just plain evil ones as well. So unless we believe the state is always virtuous, pure patriotism is blind to good and evil.
But this misses the point entirely. Patriotism isn’t about rational-but-questioning attachment to a group or body, it’s all about irrational-and-unquestioning attachment to a group or body. Hard-wired, visceral, deep in the hardware of our brains sits this sinister monster ready to attach itself, and you along with it, to the most primitive and potentially undeserving of recipients, namely your family and friends, your tribe (or football team or whatever), your country and your culture (or religion or whatever).
OK, so I was exposed to these same monstrous attachments as a child, but why was I so resistant to them? But of course, I wasn’t, and still aren’t. Confronting blind patriotism is an ongoing project that requires eternal vigilance to avoid one being sucked down the vortex. Let’s examine some examples, and as I’m an Anglo-Saxon Brit, these will come from this “culture” (God help us). I’m sure wherever you come from you can copy-and-paste your own culture over this and find resonances.
Firstly, take our cultural icons. These were drilled into us from our earliest school days. Scott of the Antarctic (came second, and frozen-dead). The Franklin expedition to find the northwest-passage (not found and all died, even after they ate each other). Donald Campbell and his speed record attempts in Bluebird (very dead and in pieces). I could go on, so I will.
The 20's land speed record holder Parry Thomas and his car Babs (dead and disintegrated). Geoffrey Raoul de Havilland Jr. (didn’t break the sound barrier, dead with a broken neck). Mallory and Irvine climbing Chomolungma/mount-Everest in the 20’s (failed, both dead). To me these were not heroes of an Anglo-Saxon super-culture, they were just sad winners of the Darwin awards. All of them very brave, very determined, very stupid, and very dead. Take it from me, there is nothing clever or glorious about dying while failing to achieve something – honestly, there isn’t.
So, I’m immune then? I’ve inoculated myself against the propaganda and can engage with patriotism in a sensible and mature manner? Far from it. Mindless patriotism has a nasty habit of attacking you under the radar. A good example was my first stint working in the US. There I was in 86, full of fresh-faced enthusiasm in the heart of DC at one of the HQs of Martin-Marietta, a Beltway-Bandit of the time (Beltway-Bandits was the slang for the industrial-military complex centred along the ring-road of Washington). How I got to be a Beltway-Bandit is another story. Anyway, Monday morning in the office to meet my American bosses.
First office was Bill’s who was an old-timer. As I entered his room, he shouted the warning “the British are coming, the British are coming!”, which didn’t mean a lot to me at the time. He saw me hesitate and said “Paul-Revere”, which again didn’t mean a lot to me. It was obviously education time for Andrew. The war of independence? Was I totally ignorant of American history? (pretty much so).
After an update he followed with “and the war of 1812?”. Hesitation again, then I spluttered “Napoleon?”. “No, no, no” he replied, the war when you Brits sailed up the Potomac, burnt-down the Whitehouse, and stole the silver-service. This was absolute news to me, and as I was savouring the details, a sense of immense national pride surged through me. It was a delicious and guilty sensation, and one I have savoured ever since.
Where else have my patriotism defences been penetrated? Russian propaganda is one. When I see and hear the Russian propogandists fulminating that the UK will be obliterated, and the sound of Big-Ben will never be heard again as its donger and the whole of London sinks below the waves (well I thin that’s what he said), I know we must be doing something right. What we need to do is not panic, identify what is exercising Solovyov and his henchmen-and-women so much, and double-down on it. Well, more than double-down, treble-down if that is possible. With enough provocation it is entirely possible he will suffer an aneurism on-air so we can all enjoy the spectacle.
OK, so that’s irrational patriotism. Do I possess any ration patriotic sentiments, and if so, what and to what body? The answer I think is yes, but not at the national level, at least not the UK (Scotland where I now live is different). There are two levels, at a sub-cultural level, namely SM/hippy/green/lefty, and at the supra-national level, namely Europe, and in particular, the EU.
Perhaps the word changes when yPerhaps the word changes when you change levels like this, from patriotism to pride. To me, they are pretty-much the same thing. So, when these two levels combine in one event you can imagine my pride, as when Conchita-Wurst won the Eurovision song contest. Actually, this was a pretty pivotal moment, and one which might have pushed Vladimir-Putin over-the-edge.
There it was, a clash of cultures, with an existential threat to Russia beaming at him through the TV screen. The only way for him to save the Slavic empire was to invade all his neighbours, and announce his own song contest, where military-bands and Cossacks singing the Volga-Boatmen could outcompete each other on prime-time Russian TV. This was soft-power at its best. This also led me to join (after a vigorous vetting procedure) EU-Soft, the ultra-secret spy agency run by the EU to undermine authoritarian regimes around the world.
Is there any patriotism left for me at the UK level? Wars? (far too many and unnecessary). Culture? (“Land-of-Hope-and Glory”, and “Jerusalem” – seriously!). Sport? (Eddy-the-Eagle our most successful-ever ski-jumper!), and all the other “Plucky-Brits”, etc, etc. All I can say is I’m now feeling slightly unwell and need to lie-down and recover. Aaaaggggghhhhhhh, patriotism, don’t you just love it!