SYRIA, ASSAD AND THE CURSE OF EDMUND BURKE

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." (Edmund Burke)

 

Seems this has been quoted quite a lot over the past few days.

But what are good men supposed to do, for, in Syria's case, is not every option fraught with risk and danger? So the option of doing nothing becomes the most attractive. It's justification all the easier if we listen to the shrill voices warning of the unknown consequences of trying to stop an evil man. We assume that there is less risk if we sit on our hands. We convince ourselves it is so, like a drunk dilutes a lack of resolve with a litre of vodka and finds the shame of his circumstance to be the fault of others, not himself. And like that drunk, we marinate our abdication with self-serving arguments about the risk of the future, or the errors of the past, or the arrogance of thinking we can do anything at all.

 

We have also allowed the ghosts of Iraq to crowd around, obscuring the difference between doing the right thing (confronting Burke's evil men) the wrong way and doing the plain wrong thing. It's easier then, not to risk getting it wrong, but to look out of the corner of our eyes at this problem. It's far away from our homes and we are safe. Our Government will not drop fire bombs on our schools. We are better off as spectators this time.  Yes, of course it's all awful, but its someone else's awful and why should we have to help beyond our tut-tutting in the United Nations and those other pointless feel-good talking shops so beloved of our politicians and leaders. If we look the other way for long enough, perhaps it will go away.

 

Yet, we know this wont go away, because it doesn't work like that. A fire ignored only dies once it has consumed everything it can possibly burn, and so too with "evil men". Sticking one's head in the sand is not a solution. Hoping to reason with barbarity is not a strategy. Pontificating  loudly about alternatives that have already failed may salve the conscience, but is really only a counsel of despair.

 

Last week I watched a BBC report, with an image of a fire savaged Syrian school child, fire bombed by its own Government. Naked and burning, it's gender seared away, it was only just alive, now become a breathing piece of charred human meat, open mouthed in its incomprehension at the terror of its circumstance that mere words like this cannot describe. I watched the child in HD television, whilst eating an over-heated TV dinner off a tray, listening to the voice-over giving it less than an even chance of living. What have things come to? Next up one of our politicians. So pleased he was, democracy was in action (in the UK), he said. We will not get involved in this, he said. We want proof, he said. Perhaps he had not seen the BBC report. He seemed very pleased with himself, but then they always do. I expect he went home to a large, comfortable house and a good meal.  I expect his children were already tucked up in their beds and asleep by the time he has walked up his garden path to his front door. They will not be fire bombed.

 

So, is it true that "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing"? Maybe. Perhaps however, "men" who stand by doing nothing whilst evil flourishes all about them, are not good men.

 

They are cowards. And when we let them speak in our name, so too are we.

 " Too many flames, with too much to burn, and life's only made of paper"- Ronnie James Dio

 

 

SYRIA: TERROR WITHOUT END

SYRIA: A TERROR WITHOUT END

We have now seen the pictures that no cameraman should ever have to take.  Chilling pictures of small dead children, wrapped in shrouds, each pale face drawn as if sleeping through a haunted dream that does not end. But they sleep the sleep from which none will ever wake, for in these still terrible pictures we see a land from which all hope has fled.

Syria is the nightmare scenario where all the options that available are horrific, and all its roads seem to lead to a place of destruction and ruin. As it descends into a barbaric civil war involving chemical warfare, civilian massacres, a tyrannical dictator and cast of several insanely radical Islamist groups hell bent on destroying anyone and everyone else, any once fragile opportunity to resolve the crisis has evaporated. The nominally moderate Free Syrian Army is seemingly crowded out in the shouting and shooting of the madmen and mad movements on all sides.

The West has been, once again, left trembling anxiously on the side lines. Afraid to do something, fearful of not doing anything, its only recourse is in sound bite and speech, where, like a minister in an empty church, it sermonises from within the echo chamber of of its increasing irrelevance.

The real power players, Russia ( and to a lesser extent China) observe events through the pitiless scopes of their geopolitical self interest, which, in the case of Russia, is a corrupted lens that finds only satisfaction in the humiliation of the west and particularly the USA. Putin in particular, is the puppet master of the Assad regime, and for him, the real enemy is the USA. Whether it comes in the form of pathetic and frightened pawns like Snowden, or a hellish civil war in the Middle East, all are merely tools with which to wage a new Cold War against an old adversary.

 The UN is again exposed as a toothless old hound, on a chain and issuing forth with the odd bark, the teeth in its jaws blunted rotten stumps that no robber would ever fear. And so too with Obama and his red lines, originally drawn out in the comfortable expectation they would never be breached. Now their only purpose is to demarcate a failure of resolve and to serve as the ribbon for a state policy wrapped in its own indecision.

And for Syria? It has no future. Indeed the worst of all outcomes might be that a victor emerges from this war. For what we are witnessing is the Gordian knott of conflicts, where intertwined are a monstrous collision of nationalistic and tribal aspirations, violently intolerant and militant  religious extremism, sectarian hatreds within Syria and across the wider Arab and Persian world, the interference of unstable neighbouring states, all of which is underscored by the lack of congruence between Syria's current borders, imposed by hastily departing and squabbling colonial powers in the later 1940s, and the long history of Syrianism.  There are no good guys anymore. No cavalry will ride in from the sunset. And if out of this maelstrom of barbarity a victor should emerge, he will more likely than not be consumed with thoughts of revenge.

Towards the end of the Second World War the Germans spoke of their preference for an end in terror rather than a terror without end. For Syria right now it seems they face only a terror without end.

Princess Diana is sending message to Naomi Watts (and other delsions)

In the latest news to emerge from the world of “Hollywood”, formerly sensible across Naomi Watts claims she has had messages from the late Princess to confirm that it’s alright for her to play the part of Diana in the upcoming film about her life.

 

Apparently Ms Watts has confirmed that she "felt Diana's presence during the film. I asked her if I could carry on - and she gave me permission”.

 

What absolute tosh.

 

That actors are somewhat deluded will not come as much of a surprise to most people. That they are now also able to liaise with the dead is a more unexpected development. However, before we snigger up our sleeves, let’s recognise the commercial possibilities here, for they are endless.

 

How long now before some lucky author is contacted by Michael Jackson to ghost write his Bio – perhaps we will finally really know what happened? But why stop there? Perhaps Bach has a few more Brandenburg Concerto’s up his sleeve that he has spent the last few centuries working up. I wonder which lucky composer he might be thinking of approaching with his works.  Will Genghis Khan feel it’s about time to explain his invasion of medieval Europe to a ghost writer (no pun intended), or perhaps Cicero will tell us more about the politics of the Roman Empire. My guess is he might contact Silvio Berlusconi, a modern day emperor if there ever was one, to help him.

 

Joking aside though, the dead do not send us messages. That’s because they are dead.  Anyone who believes that they do is deluding themselves. And although Watts’s revelations are of themselves as harmless as they are silly, its unsettling that there are people who believes they are hearing messages in their heads or have some other form of supernatural guidance, telling them what to do or what to say or, most seriously of all, how to treat other people .

 

Terrible wrongs are perpetrated by those convinced of the rightness of their ways. Often grounded in delusional assumptions and beliefs, many of the world’s current problems and conflicts can be traced back to these rigidly and fanatically held views.

 

It seems there is no end in sight to the influence of these delusional views either, seemingly stretching from Watt's harmless trivialities to the killing fields of the Middle East….

 

 

PUTIN IN NEW DIVING BELL ADVENTURE

In the on-going series of exciting adventures, earlier this week our superhero, Vladimir Putin, descended to the very bottom of the dark, cruel sea (50m in the Gulf of Finland) to explore an ancient shipwreck. Once again, at great personal risk to his person, and wearing smart white trainers (as worn by other superheroes like Justin Bieber), Vlad went down to the ocean bed, looked through the 6-inch glass of his little porthole, and then went back up to the surface a few minutes later to declare another heroic triumph for ...err…himself.

This latest triumph comes hot on the heels of his other aquatic exploits in which he found an old wine bottle on the bottom of the Black Sea and shot a whale with a bow and arrow.  In other adventures, we have seen the fearless Vlad darting a tame....apologies....a wild and dangerous tiger, riding a pony whilst not wearing a shirt (which everyone knows is very daring) and courageously locking up 3 pop stars from punk outfit Pussy Riot, for singing very rude ditties in church.

Vlad will therefore have been very dismayed to learn, upon surfacing from his deep sea adventure and climbing out of his diving bell, that Pussy Riot have once again been up to all sorts of mischief whilst he was on the ocean floor, releasing a video parodying Vlad as a Russian Ayatollah, and accusing him of spreading the country's wealth amongst his political and business mates.

The latest stunt is another attempt to bolster his waning popularity as increasing numbers of  urban Russians tire of his rule and its patronages and corruption. Like so many politicians, he is unable to move with the shifting times and attitudes of those he once represented, but from whom now he only elicits scorn and derision. And with each new stunt, that level of scorn will only increase.

What a tragedy for Russia he is though. With its declining birth rates, low mortality and unreformed, economy, there is a sense that it is in long term decline. It cries out for clear farsighted leadership. It faces formidable challenges. Its educated youth are leaving. On its far south eastern borders the huge, heaving dynamo of north eastern China rises like a great, all engulfing tidal wave of progress and people that one day, given the mathematical inevitabilities of a fixed land area and a swelling population, may spill over into sparsely populated Russia on the other side of the fence (already over 1 million Chinese live over the border).

Russia is also institutionalised with corruption, rotted with bribery, as the preparation for the winter Olympics in Sochi bears witness, being the most expensive Games of all time. Its become primarily a get rich scheme for cronies of the state, the pretence of sport merely serving as the enabler for this.  Putin’s posturing and blustering on the world stage cannot hide this and avoid the sense of national decline.

Against all this, Pussy Riot may not of course pose a threat to Putin. However, they do more than create a discordant objection to his rule. Despite State persecution of them, they are back in their brightly coloured outfits, angrily unbowed by the bullying of the law. Through public performance they are openly and brazenly mocking and challenging the Russian president and all he stands for with their brash outbursts about him and his corrupt cronies, all the while figuratively and literally thumbing their noses at his fading aura of authority. Such outrages would have been unthinkable in Soviet times; times after which Putin yearns.

Yet the Riot is, in a way, symbolic of a wider movement in Russia that is losing its fear of it's once mighty president. As the protests against him continue, and as his attempts to portray himself as a nationalistic, macho super hero in farcical adventure videos fail, so Putin risks becoming ever more bitter and dangerous. Personal ambition, arrogance and corruption will be mixed in with increasing public ridicule and protest. All risk coming to the boil eventually in the same political pot.

For us in the West, in our easy, human rights protected democracies and, by comparison, well cushioned welfare state societies (despite austerity), we have long since forgotten the courage it takes to face down genuine tyrants on our own streets and to live in truly oppressive states. But in Russia they know well the features of that bleak landscape and the courage needed to endure and challenge it. Its epitomised by a band of punks, and by hundreds of thousands of Russians who take that courage with them onto the streets in protest.

 Also see RUSSIA: EVERYTHING CHANGES AND EVERYTHING STAYS THE SAME… and PUTIN: NOT A PUNK ROCK FAN?

Shoot-out in Jackson on the 4th of July

I have been writing this for some time, wondering when I might ever use it. Its not a normal sort of blog. However, today presents the chance. We are in Jackson, Wyoming and today it is, of course, the 4th of July. We have just watched the Jackson Independence Day celebrations, which included their famous shoot out in the town square. Shoot-outs and gun fights have passed into Wild West folk lore now, played out countless times by children growing up who are, statistically at least, almost certain never to know the real thing. So, just what might it have been like, not just to be in real a shoot out, but to be on the losing end....

SHOOT OUT

He went careering backwards, reeling through the swinging doors of the Million Dollar Saloon and out into the sudden blasting brightness of the day. He was conscious of a huge pounding in his shattered shoulder, as if he had been punched with massive force by a giant fist of rock. Damp warm crimson was spreading across his shirt and his ears echoed and rang with the numbing thunder clap of a close range pistol shot. Disorientated and bewildered, he was giddily aware of the bright blue vault of the empty sky and the blinding focus of the sun swivelling wildly above his head. He felt his feet start to go.

For a moment he was weightless, almost floating, then he felt the crunch, the crash and the buckling of his legs as he collapsed in the dust of the street, then the great wave of agony as his bullet-shattered shoulder hit the hard compact red earth. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his hat roll slowly away from him in the rising dust before it too toppled over. Pain now washed over him in great pulsing waves.

 Dimly he was aware of shouting, of another emerging through the swinging doors, and of sudden menace once more standing tall and powerful before him. He felt his concentration, and awareness start to fragment and drift as his grip on lucidity loosened. He heard voices urging restraint. He heard the canter of hooves nearby, more shouting and a woman's voice somewhere in the crowd.

Then for a brief moment, he seemed to be somewhere else. Powerful memories pulled him away from the terrible present. For some reason he remembered his father from all those years ago, picking him up and putting him on a horse for the first time when he he had been no more than a small boy. The word "Pa" seemed to creep up from somewhere deep and far away inside him. His lips opened, as if to release it into the air, whilst his arm sought to stretch out for a fading memory of a time long before.

Then he was again  aware of that terrible shadowed figure before him, seemingly impossibly tall, raising its arm whilst the world seemed to stop. Overhead a solitary bird; motionless in the vastness of an empty sky.  Then,  another thunder clap like the world ending, and he knew no more....

Written between London and Jackson, Wyoming.

UFO desk closes and some deliciously silly rumours.....

 If you thought the Greek Government's recent  shutting down of its national broadcaster was a bit drastic, it has nothing on this shocking revelation.. For the UK Department of Defence announced last week that it had shut down its UFO desk (employees: 2)!  In 2009!  We have been defenceless for 4 years and civilisation has been on the brink, blind and unprotected from invading aliens and reptiles from Planet X (arrival delayed).

The Desk had apparently been in operation for 50 years. After half a century of investigation into UFO reports it has drawn the not terribly surprise conclusion that there is not in fact anything to investigate ( apart from a number of mistakenly identified Chinese lanterns in Yorkshire)

This will be a bitter disappointment to many and in response we should probably see a spike in UFO sittings as ufologists, not to mention slighted UFO pilots, angrily protest at their declared redundancy, no doubt smelling government cover-ups and all manner of suspicious behind the scenes manoeuvring. After all, this sinister announcement has come just after the meeting of the Bilderberg Group and the G8, well known for their intergalactic dabbling and hostility to aliens, especially the tax dodging variety these days.  It's also suspiciously contemporaneous with all those leaks from Mr Snowden about how the US has been spying on us and reading all our emails.

Now, I'd hate to be one to start any unfounded rumours, but could Mr Snowden be about to reveal some new new groundbreaking facts about Area 51, e mails from outer space and aliens running the British Department of Defence?

Remember, you read it here first.......

JULIAN ASSANGE REAPPEARS

Over the past few days, Mr Julian Assange has oozed his way back into the headlines, managing to find a small patch of unoccupied media space, not too blood stained, in which to tell the now largely uninterested world of his struggles for justice (or more correctly how to avoid it).

 

What has triggered his reappearance? Was it his excitement at Lady Gaga, that icon of liberty and free speech, popping in for tea? Perhaps he thinks the NSA whistle-blower, Edward Snowden might soon be joining him? Or perhaps it was his excitement at words of support from no lesser figure than John Pilger, that man of letters, beacon of moderation and giant of intellectual prowess, who has accused President Obama of “being at war with truth-tellers and the world”.  At war with the world?! I must have blinked and missed that. Perhaps the mighty Mr Pilger could tempt timid Barack into doing something about Syria in that case…..

But back to Julian Assange.  Between numbing reports of horrific slaughter in Syria that rank almost beyond comprehension and other tales of mass demonstrations and brutal police repression in Turkey and so on, a rather sallow, greasy looking Assange emerged from his figurative bolt hole from justice, also known as the London Ecuadorian Embassy. He declared he would stay where he was for a further 5 years if need be and refuse to face accusation of allegedly sexually assaulting two women (or in his rather fevered imagination, threats of extradition to the USA to face charges of leaking its secrets). But why now – has the bulb in his sun tan lamp blown, or perhaps his hosts are getting tired of his presence?

Ecuador, who have given asylum to Assange in a strange fit of preoccupation with the right to free speech (as long as it’s not exercised in Ecuador), declared, with rather cheerful desperation, that the noxious Assange might even stay so long in their embassy that he could die there.  They also asked if poor Julian might  be allowed outside into the sunshine for a bit without being arrested. Are they worried about his vitamin D depletion?  Anyway, since the sun has not been seen in London since about 2010 this seemed a rather optimistic request to say the least.

When one thinks of the scale of suffering in places like the aforementioned Syria, to have to listen to Mr Assange bleating on about his (self-imposed) living conditions in the Ecuadorian embassy in London, it's enough to make you feel like agreeing to his request. Let him go, put him on a plane and send him to Damascus.