A celebration or a denial of humanity?

I trust you’ve enjoyed some time off over the Christmas period. Some of our extended family work in the NHS and so have had days or nights on duty; meanwhile my brother who’s a clergy person was working Christmas Day and was working again yesterday. When we had a meal with my siblings and partners on Thursday he told me he was going to preach about the Holy Innocents, the children under of two years and younger whose massacre King Herod ordered in a gruesome footnote to Matthew’s story of the first Christmas. I’ve no idea what he was going to say to encourage the good people of West Oxford.

However there is a topicality about the story – which maybe he will allude to. Because of course it’s thanks to an angelic tip-off that the Holy Family become refugees fleeing into Egypt. Sarah Teather of the Jesuit Refugee Service pointed out on Radio 4 yesterday morning how easy it is to sanitise the story. “…it might be easy to gloss over the surface of the story of the Flight to Egypt; to wrap it up in Christmas cheer and leap straight to the lucky escape of the Holy Family. [Rachel weeping for her children] calls us back – to the horror of Herod’s atrocity, to the open wound of forced exile and the enduring trauma of violence, which cannot be mended by cheap comfort.” 

According to the UN Refugee Agency there are currently 68.5 million forcibly displaced people worldwide, two million more than the population of the United Kingdom. I find it deeply troubling that 220 people since November have been so desperate to seek protection that they have risked their savings and their lives to cross the Channel in rubber dinghies – and we have dubbed it a “major incident” (presumably a euphemism for crisis) and we don’t mean it for them but for us. The Home Secretary has broken off his family holiday to “take charge”, the Junior Minister for Immigration has leapt into action and the MP for Dover has been joining in the hoo-hah. Comments have been dressed up in concern for the migrants’ safety and indignation transferred to the gangs who exploit them and set them off on the dangerous crossing. However it is clear, is it not, that what is fuelling this fire is an antipathy to people seeking safety and a new life in this country? There is little doubt that if one of these little boats had contained a homeless carpenter and his wife and baby child they would have been unwelcome here too.

How pathetic is a country as wealthy and populous as ours getting all hot under the collar about a few hundred folk asking for our help! In fact I think it’s worse. It’s a sign of nastily insular and selfish opinion formers who probably reflect the nation’s mood. It is profoundly at odds with the supposed Christian values which we, like Hungary, purport to espouse. Those values have been more faithfully reflected by the so-called “Stansted 15” who risked being locked up and incurring criminal charges for protecting 60 people who were being forcibly repatriated to countries where they believed their lives to be in danger.

 

©Kristian Boos

“Many will face persecution, harm or death when they arrive, or the widely documented violence and abuse from security contractors on these flights. 

“The Stansted action was the first time people protesting against the immigration system grounded a deportation flight in the UK. Several people due to be forced onto the flight were able to stay because of the action, which bought time to hear their applications” (Stansted 15 story). Incredibly the fifteen have been found guilty under a law which originated in terrorism legislation.

For Christmas my daughter gave me the dvd of The Greatest Showman, the musical about the impresario P.T.Barnum, whose circus of oddities brought him money and notoriety. From the start he is hounded by a prominent theatre critic named James Gordon Bennett, who will not concede that Barnum’s show is serious entertainment. For years there is nasty opposition to the “freaks” who provide the acts, which culminates in a brawl between the actors and the right-wing thugs who want them out of New York. The thugs set light to the theatre and Barnum is ruined. At this point Bennett appears and sits beside Barnum on the steps of the charred ruins.

James Gordon Bennett: I never liked your show. But I always thought the people did.

P. T. Barnum: They did. They do.

Bennett: Mind you, I wouldn’t call it art.

P. T. Barnum: Of course not.

Bennett: But… putting folks of all kinds on stage with you… all colours, shapes, sizes… presenting them as equals… Why, another critic might have even called it “a celebration of humanity.”

P. T. Barnum: I would’ve liked that.

Will this country remain a celebration of humanity, or will the purists and the thugs they persuade drive away the alien who seeks to sojourn here?

I wouldn’t like that.

A wise man named Alexander returns to earth

Alexander Gerst has twice been an astronaut with the International Space Station, once 2014 and once this year. He returned to earth this morning in Kazakhstan. Earlier this year, the 42-year-old geophysicist and volcanologist was shocked by the difference he witnessed as he viewed the earth from space. A month ago he recorded a message for his unborn grandchildren. It should be listened to, by everyone.

Alexander Gerst's message to grandchildren

“Dear grandchildren,

“You have not been born yet, and I do not know if I will ever meet you, so I’ve decided to record this message for you. I’m on the International Space Station in the Cupola Observation Module gazing down at your beautiful planet. And although I’ve now almost spent a year of my life in space and looked at Earth every single day, I just can’t get enough of this view.

“I know it probably sounds strange to you, but at the time the Space Station was built and was up here in orbit, not everyone was able to travel into space and see the Earth from a distance. Before me, only around 500 people had the chance. At this very moment, there are 7 billion people living down there on Earth and only three of them live in space. And when I look down at the planet, I think I need to apologise to you.

 

“Right now, it looks like we – my generation – are not going to leave this planet in its best condition for you. Of course, in retrospect many people will say they weren’t aware of what we were doing. But in reality, we humans know that right now we’re polluting the planet with carbon dioxide, we're making the climate reach tipping point, we’re clearing forests, we’re polluting the oceans with garbage, we’re consuming the limited resources far too quickly, and we’re waging mostly pointless wars.

“And every one of us has to take a good look at themselves and think about where this is leading. I very much hope for our own sake that we can still get our act together and improve a few things. And I hope that we won’t be remembered by you as the generation who selfishly and ruthlessly destroyed your livelihood.

“I’m sure you understand these things much better than my generation. And who knows, maybe we’ll learn something new, such as: taking a step always helps; this fragile spaceship called Earth is much smaller than most people can imagine; how fragile the Earth’s biosphere is and how limited its resources are; that it's worth getting along with your neighbours; that dreams are more valuable than money and you have to give them a chance; that boys and girls can do things equally well, but that every one of you has one thing that he or she can do much better than all the others; that the simple explanations are often wrong and that one’s own point of view is always incomplete; that the future is more important than the past; that one should never fully grow up; and that opportunities only come along once. You have to take a risk for things that are worth it, and any day during which you discovered something new – one where you gazed beyond your horizon – is a good day.

“I wish I could look into the future through your eyes, into your world and how you see it. Unfortunately, that is not possible and therefore the only thing that remains for me is to try to make your future the best one I can possibly imagine.

International Space Station – Commander of Expedition 57, Alexander Gerst – 25 November 2018 – 400 km above the Earth's surface”

What a great perspective! Politicians generally have such short-term vision. If they could only see what’s needed for their grandchildren’s and great-grandchildren’s good! And if only we, who elect them, would - while we can!

Soapboxes, the Sun and demagoguery

“I see Michael’s back on his soap-box!” said one of my good friends last night. He gave up reading my last post, Are referendums democratic - or not? Let's get real halfway through, he said. Thanks a bunch, Boris!

 

Picture from Too Busy To Fundraise.com

I protested that it was just an argument about consistency. Anyway, today, I have a real concern, in fact a fear. It’s this. Even if there were a second referendum, for which I think are perfectly admissible justifications, there are plenty of demagogues who would take to the airwaves and all forms of media to stir up civil strife.

The Sun newspaper today employs the lurid tones of demagoguery in its comment column, “The Sun says”, headlined, “The Tories must prevent Remainer MPs from stealing Brexit from the ­British people

“What a tsunami of rage politicians would unleash by ignoring the democratic rights of millions on the winning side of the biggest vote in British history.” The article quotes the Rt Hon Dr Liam Fox accusing some of his fellow MPs of “stealing Brexit from the British people.” And it ends, “If Remain won, our democracy would be shattered, all faith in politicians destroyed. That never ends well.

“Do you think Brits are too reserved for civil disorder? Cast your mind back to the riots of the 1970s, 1980s, 1990 or 2011. Or the febrile atmosphere of the referendum, during which Jo Cox MP was heartbreakingly murdered.

“What a tsunami of rage politicians would unleash by ignoring the democratic rights of millions on the winning side of the biggest vote in British history.”

Now that, my friend, is soap-boxing. No it’s more. It’s rabble-rousing. How dare The Sun quote Jo Cox’s murder in a perversion of what she stood for? If you are looking for the roots of the populism that has undermined faith in politicians, you need search no further than the rhetoric of this flagship of Grub Street, the tabloid press. No doubt someone felt very proud of his or her vitriol, but I doubt very much if they stopped to consider whether it was contributing to the health of public discussion in the country.

Why should Great Britain be unable to hold two referendums without tearing the social fabric apart whilst neighbours such as Ireland and Denmark have done so without destroying themselves, and Switzerland repeatedly put the same questions to the nation and keep ticking along like a Rolex watch? Are we so much less civilised than them? The only reason that we might be is not that we lack reserve, but that the likes of The Sun and cabinet ministers such as Dr Fox and Mr Gove (and even the Prime Minister) embark on their own project, Project Hate, ably assisted by the chorus line of ex-ministers and politicians. If there were a referendum concerning Mrs May’s agreement, it would only be as useful and civilised as those leading the debate. It might conceivably be that those wanting a “People’s Vote” are concerned for more than wanting to remain in Europe.

It’s not enough to stick your fingers in your ears and shout, “La-la-la!”, and to hurl insults at those who want to say something you don’t want to hear. If you’re truly concerned for peace and national unity, then you have to talk and not shout, listen and not stop your ears – above all, you need to admit that you may be mistaken.

Are referendums democratic - or not? Let's get real.

I have kept my counsel with remarkable restraint for the past couple of years, but I’m sorry. I can do so no longer. Which is by way of a rant warning, but really… I have had enough of the continually repeated mantra, “Another referendum would be anti-democratic.”

Picture: LSE.ac.uk

For one thing you can’t have it both ways. For another it’s clearly fallacious. For a third I gather that if the government threatens that, if the House of Commons fails to approve Mrs May’s compromise Brexit deal, it will be presented for a vote again when, presumably, the markets’ negative reaction will have spooked MPs into changing their mind. For a fourth far from another referendum being a rerun of the June 2016 one, this would be the difference between voting on substantial proposals and voting on a promise of unicorns – and don’t dare tell me that the “ordinary voter” is too dim to understand what’s being proposed.

The pressure for a referendum came in the first place from the arch-Eurosceptics who had long peddled their myths about the EU. Now they have turned into a “research group” of sloganising Brexiteers who have been revealed as wearing the emperor’s clothes, or pin-striped suits. But they can’t have it both ways. They can’t claim that another referendum would not be democratic – if the first one was. Once you let the referendum cat out of the bag, as the logical Swiss know, there’s no way you can capture it again. It’s entirely democratic to say to the people, “Almost three years ago you voted by a small majority that we should leave the EU. Since then our keenest Brexiteers have been negotiating and this is the best package that your government have managed come up with. Is this what you want? The alternatives are to leave with no deal (which would mean the following…) or to stay in the EU and influence its decisions from within."

By the way, I have little patience with the Brexiteers’ bogus claim that the fact that both the Tories and Labour at the last election included implementing Brexit in their manifestoes indicates that 82.5% of people were in favour of that policy. What rubbish! I certainly voted for one of those parties. That does not indicate that I was voting for their every policy, but for the whole package that I judged would be best for the country and the team I trusted more. I suspect that is true of every voter in every election. That means that one is not entitled to extrapolate that each person who votes for a party also is endorsing each of its policies. It’s a fallacy. I voted to remain in Europe, but hoped that the parties would in the end see sense.

It's also a fallacy to call one plebiscite (referendum) an exercise of democracy and another a denial of democracy. You can argue that holding any referendum is a denial of representative, or parliamentary, democracy, based on the premise that the people vote for representatives they trust to debate and make informed decisions on their behalf. The 2016 referendum bears this out. The decision to hold a referendum was an abdication of parliamentary responsibility in the face of a fierce populist onslaught on the principle of parliamentary democracy.

There were rumours put out last week that, if Mrs May’s deal was not voted through on 11^th December, then the MPs' Christmas break might be put off for another vote, I assume in the hope that there will enough hoo-hah from industry and the financial markets that they will change their minds. Their Christmas might even be cancelled! Hang on! If a second referendum is antidemocratic as is argued, how can a repeat vote in Parliament be democratic? You can’t have it both ways.

Another referendum on the other hand wouldn’t be a repeat vote. The issue is now quite different from June 2016. Then the question was simple: In or Out? But the evidence was all hypothetical. For example: Out, and the economy would suffer. Out, and the NHS would benefit by £35 million a week. Out, and we'll "regain control". Now we have a potential agreement for withdrawal and have concrete evidence for what would be entailed in the UK’s departure from the EU. And many MPs see that it is the worst of all worlds. I suspect more MPs are unhappy with the agreement now than ever were sceptical about the EU. What a pity they weren’t more effective in advocating its benefits all along.

As Brexiteers were wont to tell us and I agree with them, ordinary folk are quite capable of understanding facts and issues. The trouble before June 2016 is that they weren’t given them – because they weren’t known. We now know a whole lot more, for example about net migration, housing, schooling and the health service. We know exactly what the terms of the withdrawal agreement are. If the electorate was trusted once, why not trust them again? Perhaps the additional number of 18- to 20-year olds might affect the vote, which probably the Brexiteers fear. But in my opinion the outcome of any referendum is by no means a foregone conclusion. I fear Michael Gove might be right, "“I actually think if there were a second referendum people would probably vote to Leave in even larger numbers than they did before." However his claim that the very act of calling a second referendum would damage faith in democracy and rip apart the social fabric of this country would very much depend on him and his ilk. If damaging democracy becomes their strapline then a large minority of the population will swallow the bait, ignoring the fact that parliamentary democracy has already been damaged and relegated to being of less importance than plebiscite democracy. Were they to resist the Dominic Cummings' policy of social media slogans and discuss the real issues, it would be possible to reach the most desirable outcome of settling one way or another the present stalemate which is poisoning the UK’s body politic. 

I don't envy Theresa May and the Procrustean bed she chose to lie on. She has shown amazing courage in the past year as ministers have deserted her. I hope she will show yet more courage in trusting the people one more time. She might be surprised at the outcome. Will she, the government and MPs be prepared to take the risk of asking the country anew?

The spreading wen

There’s a scene in Yes, Minister in which the minister, Jim Hacker, and his private secretary, Bernard Woolley, are being driven to Oxford for Hacker to be wined and dined at one of the Oxford University colleges. On the M40 a thought occurs to Jim Hacker, why there are two really good roads to Oxford (M40 and M4) and none to any of the ports, such as Southampton, Dover or Lowestoft. “Nearly all the Permanent Secretaries went to Oxford,” replies Bernard, “and most Oxford colleges do really good dinners…”

I was reminded of this when the local news was again about the “brain-belt expressway” announced by the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Philip Hammond (Oxford University), in his autumn statement designed to run between Oxford, Milton Keynes and Cambridge. Before the summer holiday the Secretary of State for Transport, Chris Grayling (Cambridge University), announced, “We expect to make a decision on the preferred corridor for the Oxford to Cambridge expressway this summer.” Five days ago an indicative route (Option B) was announced, which local naturalists say is the worst of all possible options. “The potential impact on biodiversity of corridor B is so serious that the route should have been discounted entirely” (Estelle Bailey, BBOWT). The potential cost was estimated as just less that £3.5 billion in July 2017, but we know how public spending estimates escalate. It’s projected for completion in 2050. It’s proposed to build lots of houses along the route (lots means, I read, a million – the equivalent of three Sheffields); and so London creeps north. The impact on biodiversity would of course be huge.

Will the Prime Minister, Theresa May (Oxford University), have enough energy or will power after Brexit to question the sense of the scheme? What do you think? You might think that I who had the immense privilege of spending some of my education in both Cambridge and Oxford would be an enthusiastic supporter of this vanity project. I know that it has lots of fancy justifications behind it dreamed up, no doubt, by dutiful Oxbridge civil servants. However there is already a fledgling restoration of the former Varsity railway line starting from Oxford, which could extend to Bedford and Cambridge and have far less impact on the environment and, one would imagine, cost less. More public transport must be preferable to more private cars and juggernauts. And there's something called the internet.

What most perplexes me is what has happened to the famous Northern Powerhouse once so loved by the Tories? Perhaps it was defenestrated along with young George Osborne. So HS2 gets only as far as that great northern city, Birmingham. Heathrow gets enormous investment with yet another runway, while regional airports which are accessible to most of the country remain undeveloped. No one, it seems, has the political courage proactively to resist the metropolitan drift which clogs the infrastructure of the south-east and starves the rest of the country.

It was William Cobbett in his Rural Rides (1830) who described London as the Great Wen (sebaceous cyst) and asked, "But, what is to be the fate of the great wen of all? The monster, called, by the silly coxcombs of the press, 'the metropolis of the empire?”

The answer is that, though the empire is long gone (despite the illusions of some Brexiteers), the monster has continued to spread and no amount of green-belt sticking plaster has been able to restrain it and it is as ugly and unnecessary as a boil, since no one has the courage to squeeze it and nourish other parts of the body politic instead.

Always look on the bright side - or count your blessings

Today has been a particularly good one. For one thing it's suited me being a tad cooler. I don't want the summer to end too soon. It would be nice to have a sunny holiday.

At the moment my lift is receiving its six-monthly health check from Ashley, our regular lift engineer and emergency doctor. He is such an expert even in Pollock lifts which aren’t his stock in trade. What's more, he's a lovely guy. These regular services are one of the benefits that I receive because of my incapacity.

 

Our old Yeti

Earlier in the day we drove to our nearest Volkswagen dealer as the time is coming to change my Motability vehicle. Sadly the fashionable Skoda Yeti is no longer being produced and so I’ve done my research and decided a Touran – which is a bit bigger - is my best bet. VWs have a delay in their production, I gather, as they’re working on their emissions…. So it looks as though we’ll have to wait for a few months to take delivery. But Motability are good and should allow us to keep our Yeti until the Touran is ready. The Motability scheme which provides cars, insurance, servicing etc using the mobility component of your PIP (Personal Independence Payment, the replacement of the old Disability Living Allowance) is great – as long as you receive it. However it’s far from a foregone conclusion, these days, that if you’re disabled you’ll be allowed it. A very helpful and efficient chap called Kit steered us through the process of ordering.

Then before that I had an appointment with the podiatrist. These happen every six weeks, and I have them free on the NHS after I almost pulled a nail off a toe with my rollator a couple of years ago. I never quite know who I’ll see as our local surgery is part of an area podiatry service. But today a new rather skilled podiatrist called Lottie dealt with me. My toenails are not a pleasant phenomenon, but she soon had them sorted out. I hope she treats me again.

As we returned home for lunch and considered how much help we received, we reflected that although having MND was not a choice we’d ever ever make, I am really well provided for and have a lot to be grateful for. To cap today off, Pete and Jane, two of our best friends will be coming round tonight to have supper.

Above all and beneath it all, of course, is Jane. I read this sentence while waiting for the podiatrist: “Caring for a loved one is among the most selfless acts that can be imagined.” Yes, spot on. I’m a lucky man.

Drama on and off the stage

Last Saturday we went on our annual visit to Stratford on Avon with our good friends, Andrew and Ruth. This year we saw Romeo and Juliet. I went with a certain amount of trepidation lest I wept uncontrollably and antisocially at the tragic dénouement. In the event I needn’t have worried. I was in more danger at Mercutio’s death (played brilliantly and controversially by Charlotte Josephine). “Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.

Charlotte Josephine, Raphael Sowole (Tybalt), Bally Gill (Romeo), Josh Finan (Benvolio)

I am peppered I warrant for this world. A plague on both your houses!” 

The two houses are of course the feuding Capulets and Montagues, whose constant street brawls disturb the streets and squares of Verona. If only they’d thought of playing football! Falling in love with a Colombian or a Swede would have been so less problematic. The rival parties could have fought it out in the Federation of International Falling Acts World Cup – and no one would have got hurt, far less killed.

Which brings me to last night’s game. I have no doubt that we are all rejoicing that England are actually through to the World Cup quarter finals, and even more that they have overcome our penalty shoot-out bogeyman, not least for the remarkable Gareth Southgate’s sake. There’s an excellent article in today’s Rochdale Herald celebrationg the achievement which is well worth the read: Miracle declared in Moscow.

BUT what has happened to “the beautiful game”? I’m renaming FIFA the Federation of International Falling Acts, because it seems that the players now spend almost as much time on the turf as on their feet. Not everyone is as high-profile or as suspect as Brazil’s Neymar (watch him here), but

everyone seems to do it, as a way of alerting the referee when the player feels miffed, aggrieved or fouled, or has merely lost the ball. Diving, falling, play-acting, holding your head because it’s been bumped or your ankle because it’s been kicked, or throwing one’s hands up to claim a throw or a corner and other theatrics are common place. And in case you think, I’m pointing the finger at Colombia in particular, I’m not. 

It’s a virus that has infected the whole game and England are by no means immune. Grow up and get on with the skilful game of which you’re undoubtedly capable and which we all enjoy watching. Or in the words of Henry Newbolt's  unfashionable poem, “Play up, play up, and play the game.” And by "play up" Newbolt didn't mean "behave like a child".

Undivided by Vicky Beeching

“Don’t give us any spoilers,” one of my friends warned me today when I told her I was intending to review Undivided by Vicky Beeching. So I shall try not to.

One of the classic errors when writing about a book is confuse its genre, for example to treat fiction as though it’s a work of history. Of course Pride and Prejudice has a historical context, but it’s not a historical chronicle. So we need to avoid judging a book by what it’s not claiming to be. Such is the mistake made by the one hostile review I’ve been sent. Vicky Beeching, both in her Preface and Final Disclaimers, makes clear what she is writing. “This is not a theology book or an academic essay; it’s a memoir.” It is a category mistake to regard it as polemic or political. It is a personal memoir. It’s a contemporary story of one very gifted and prominent young musician struggling with her sexuality in an antagonistic culture. In effect, she simply says, "This is how it was for me."

So how does Undivided do as a memoir? For me it was eye-opening and harrowing. Although I’ve met Vicky once, I had no idea of the pilgrim’s progress she had been through. Now I understand a bit more. She is extraordinarily honest about her life, her thoughts and her faith – something which lies at the heart of her being.

In her early teens, Vicky realised that she was gay. For her it immediately created a conflict because at an even younger age she had committed herself to faith in Jesus Christ, and the evangelical culture in which she was brought up considered the two incompatible. One could not be gay and a Christian. And so for the next twenty years of her life, living in the heart of that particular Christian world, she struggled to be free of her nature and was constantly in fear of her orientation being uncovered. That struggle led to despair, many tears and the point of suicide.

Having myself grown into a similar world, I recognised the situations that she describes as true to life, from youth camps, to inappropriate use of the Bible, to double standards, and courageous stands. I also recognise the honesty of internal questioning and doubting to which she admits. It’s clear that her sexuality is not a result of nurture. Her family and her heroes of faith are staunchly conventional in their teaching on the matter. Her sister is straight. She grows up wishing she was too.

The reason that Vicky’s story captured the headlines like no other is that she was arguably the most popular female song-writer and worship leader of the noughties on both sides of the Atlantic, and in the US the Christian music business is a multi-million dollar concern. Educated in theology at Wycliffe, the evangelical hall in Oxford, her musical gift gained an added theological depth, so that when she went to the States in her early twenties her talent was recognised and she was soon signed up by EMI. She was in demand in mega-churches and on radio stations across the country. Her tour schedule was gruelling, much of it in the southern Bible Belt, where there was particular antipathy to the LGBTQ+ movement. As is now well known, it was her physical health that put a stop to her stellar life as a Christian song-writer and performer, and brought her back to England for urgent treatment on the National Health Service.

Having admitted to herself that she needed to come out in order to become whole and live free from shame, Vicky then went through a rigorous study of the Bible, which remained the foundation of her faith, in order to see whether she had come to the wrong conclusion. She highlights two occasions, in Brompton Oratory and St Paul’s Cathedral, which lead her to the conclusion that she was right. “God was letting me in on a new perspective, one of radical acceptance and inclusion. ‘Do not call unclean what I have made clean’ echoed round my head and heart. The person I’d always been – a gay person – was not something to be ashamed of. God accepted me and loved me, and my orientation was part of his grand design.”

In the final section, “Into the Unknown”, Vicky writes about her interview with Patrick Strudwick which was published in The Independent newspaper in August 2014, and grabbed the headlines worldwide within 24 hours. Read it here. The fall-out from her admitting that she was gay beggared belief and, I am deeply sorry, reflected very sadly on the Christian community to which I belong and which she still calls hers. It extended far beyond disagreement into contumely, condemnation and threats. Practically her music was widely boycotted and engagements cancelled or not renewed, drying up her income stream and threatening her livelihood.

When she was a child, Vicky’s ambition was to be a missionary like her much loved grandparents. If there is any happy ending to this gritty book, it must be that she is now representing faith in unlikely places, most of all in the LGBTQ+ community, where her Christian faith in the face of all odds is recognised and given a voice.

So, who should read Undivided, and why?

First, let’s start with people like me: straight Christians, brought up to be suspicious or judgmental about homosexuality. It gave me vivid insight into really what it is to be differently orientated in a still intolerant community. The book is dedicated “to the memory of Lizzie Lowe, a fourteen-year-old British girl who tragically took her own life in 2014 because she feared telling her Christian community that she was gay”. It’s almost impossible to grasp the nature and power of that fear until you read a memoir as well-written as this.

Secondly, gay Christians should read it, especially if you’re young. You will find you’re not alone, and that it’s possible to be gay and Christian, and have as full and fulfilled a life as anyone else. In fact, it would be so for any gay person no matter of what faith.

Thirdly, everyone should read it, wherever you stand. It is an honest insight into authentic living. It is a moving account of a hard-won liberation from fear and shame. And it's a good read.

I suspect there are many young people worldwide who are in a similar situation to Vicky’s. What she has given us, by virtue of her former popularity in the Anglophone world, is a view through a magnifying glass of their experience. We may make of it what we will. We may embrace it and support their freedom. We may dismiss it and resist any change. We may simply choose to take note of it. What we may not do is ignore it. I'm reminded of Martin Luther's apologia, "Here I stand. I can do no other." Please read it from beginning to end. Thank you, Vicky Beeching.

PS I still think The Wonder of the Cross is one of the greatest worship songs ever! How truly tragic that Vicky is no longer considered as acceptable in worship.

No! Minister, first aid won't do in schools

I hope you don’t mind, but I must get this off my chest.

There I was, sitting in the passenger seat, returning from an over-night celebration at Ashburnham Place in Sussex. It was exactly a week ago. It had been a happy and sunny time. As we often do, we had the car radio on and we were listening to Woman’s Hour on BBC Radio 4 – Jane’s choice of course. Jane Garvey introduced an interview with the Minister for Schools, the jolly old Nick Gibb MP. Usually I enjoy whiling away the tedium of roads like the M25 with a diverting radio programme. However, not this time. This time I found my temperature rising.

As it was exam time (indeed two of our grandchildren were at that moment wrestling with maths and Spanish), the conversation was about the ever-increasing stress that young people were under with the proliferation of testing from the earliest years. This appears to be one contributory factor to the disturbing rise in young people’s mental health problems. No sooner are they out of the exam room than they are on to their phones comparing answers. But more fundamental than that is the constant focus on exams and preparing for exams throughout school careers – because of course schools are rated on exam success rate, and as a result the teaching is skewed from education to exam-performance. What a wretched perversion! I think the minister justified it by saying life was full of competition and kids need to be prepared for it.

And of course he mentioned the PISA ratings (the Programme for International Student Assessment – devised by the OECD, which tests 15-year olds in maths, reading and science and then ranks countries by their performance). He reckoned that the UK’s rating was improving. How pernicious the whole system is! Our government is obsessed by our PISA rating. It therefore puts pressure on schools by ranking them, by results. Governing bodies and heads therefore pressurise teachers to get results from their pupils. And the ones on whom all that pressure eventually falls are the students themselves. It’s the inverse of that old saying, “Big fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite’um; little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum.” In the case of schools it’s the students who bear the weight of the pressure of the teachers, the governors, the politicians and the self-appointed OECD on their backs… And we’re surprised that they have mental health problems?

Oh, but don’t worry. The Minister had an answer. Counsellors. The Government is providing money so that schools can appoint counsellors. Now I value counsellors and therapists most highly, and I’m very pleased that there will be funding for school counselling services. I’ll be interested to hear how their recruitment gets on, though as one listener suggested they will be easier and cheaper to recruit than physics teachers. BUT it seemed to me rather like a government faced with a cholera epidemic saying, “Don’t worry. We’ll pay for a lot more nurses. Then everything will be hunky-dory.” No, in face of an epidemic, if you can, you sort out the water supply and the sanitation. You go to the source of the problem. And in the case of schools the problem is excessive academically oriented testing. 

 

Of course, Mr Gibb had an answer for this too: doing away with continuous assessment (which could be part of some courses) relieved the pressure experienced by students. I was very glad when Jane Garvey quietly pointed out that the opposite was true for some pupils for whom facing a single critical exam was far more stressful. Counsellors patching up students who have cracked under exams is not the answer, Minister. The problem is the system and that is where your attention should be focused. A very good place to start would be to jettison your obsession with arbitrary PISA rankings (as suggested in Professor Aeron Davis’s excellent and eminently readable book, Reckless Opportunists – Elites at the End of the Establishment). Our children’s well-being is more important than that.  

Reflections after a holday in Wales

Pen-y-Banc Farm, Llanwrda

Eight days ago we returned from a sunny and delightful week’s holiday in rural Camarthenshire, not far from Llandovery overlooking the Towy Valley. It’s a place we’ve been to a number of times in the past, a holiday cottage set in what should be a show garden. Our hosts were the amazing Kenneth and Gill, who over twenty years have converted a run-down farmstead into a place of beauty and a haven for wild life. The reason I call them amazing is that as well as being the epitome of hospitality they have made the transformation in the years since they retired.

Across the Towy Valley

My one sadness is my inability to explore the garden intimately in my wheelchair. However Jane brings back photos from around the paths – and I am able to sit in the back garden and enjoy the view over the valley to the Black Mountain.

For us one of the joys of that part of Wales is that is relatively accessible from our home, and yet it feels remote. Crossing the Severn Bridge is not exactly like crossing the English Channel, but there’s a faint sense of that as you go through the toll booths and all the traffic signs change to bilingual, with Welsh coming first. Talking of roads, what a joy they are after the terrors of our potholed, pock-marked tracks! Even the most minor of country tracks have scarcely any potholes. The Welsh government is often cited by Tory ministers as an example of Labour mismanagement, but I have to observe that they are a hundred times better at maintaining their roads than the English administration. I guess it’s a matter of allocating funds. In England local authority grants have been cut by 49.1% since 2010. Maybe it’s because the government allows local authorities 52 times less per mile to spend on local roads than it spends itself on major roads. And it's not just the roads that the cuts affect.

Just this morning I met a chap with a very complex medical condition who needs a support worker. The funding for support has been taken away, so that he now has to pay for his carer – which is taken from his pensions. When he suggested he might do without the support, he was told that wasn’t possible, and he would have to go into a home – funded by the sale of his assets. Apart from his small bungalow he has precious few assets. Meanwhile in a neighbouring council, there’s a team of social workers in child protection, half of whom are off ill with stress. The pressure on remaining team-members is scarcely imaginable. (Think of a half-strength football team in the World Cup, with the nation's expectations on them.) Such is the human cost of economising all in the name of cutting the national deficit. The people it hurts are not those who decree it, because, of course, if anything goes wrong, they'll not get the blame.

Aberaeron

Carreg Cennen Castle

How it is that Wales manages to maintain all its roads so much better than England, I don't know. Perhaps there's a strong lobby of Geraint Thomases. Certainly we met a road race of lycra-clad cyclists on the road home. (By the way, am I the only one to mourn the passing of leisure cyclist in normal clothing on normal bikes?) Nevertheless I'm grateful to Wales that I'm still able to enjoy its excellent roads, its beautiful gardens and castles, and its coast. We'll be back.