After the Demo, a Fishy View of the Way Ahead.

Phew! I don't think that I saw as many human beings in the last two years, as in the last couple of days. However the Demo went of peacefully, bar a few Brexiteers throwing eggs and trying to make trouble - so I'm told, though I didn't see any myself. Apparently they were quickly contained by the police, who on the whole were remarkable for their absence. I thought to myself, where else could you have over a million people thronging the centre of power and protesting the Government's actions with so much good humour and so little trouble? It actually made me feel really proud of the English part of my heritage in a way that I hadn't done so for something over fifty years. The question that nags is, can they be serious, when there is so little difference between a demo and a walk in the park?

photo by Liz Aston

     The poster on the right has to have my prize; others slogans I particularly appreciated were '50%English, 50%Irish, 100%European' and 'This is what a real demo looks like, Nigel!' Things did get claustrophobic as we approached Parliament Square, with a steady flow of people arriving and nowhere to go. A counter flow developed, which we  joined, escaping off to the first promising watering hole that we could find, which happened to be the floating pub on the Tattershall Castle. Even on an old boat permanently tied up in the middle of London, I feel a little better afloat, and I love to watch the tide pulsing in and out regardless of our passing cares!

With Liz and Bernie

So it went on; next day Cristiona, Joe and myself took a boat downriver to Greenwich, which was mobbed with Sunday strollers in fine Spring sunshine that had finally prevailed over grey cloud. London looked magnificent from the hill there, as it did from the river. It's a pity there's no view to the east and the sea though. Of course I would liked to have carried on downriver, towards the place of my birth and earliest memories, Southend-on-Sea. I always however despised those endless mud-flats, that dirty water and the dreary, battered waste-land ashore. How my heart lifted when, in my father's little boat, I first experienced the Atlantic swell down off the Lizard! However,  possibly now, with for instance old rubbish tips reclaimed as nature reserves, with a better appreciation for all those little reminders of a long past and also battered as I am with perhaps too much familiarity with Atlantic swells, I might appreciate the Essex mud-flats better.

     The question is, did the Demo really make a difference, other than leaving us with the agreeable sensation of having done our bit? Where do we go from here? I always tend to revert to seeing the whole problem in terms of fishing, being what I have a lot of first-hand experience of and also because I regard is as a specially good lens through which to view these things. Besides, being on the London River reminded me of Mr Farage's little jaunt on a fishing boat here: a typical meaningless stunt, considering that the inshore fleet has nothing to gain from Brexit, and indeed quite a lot to lose. They mostly deal in shellfish for which the biggest and best market is on the Continent.

     What about bigger boats? It is of course true that the quota system of the CFP is extremely deficient, but who is to say that a national fishing policy would be any better? Either way, it needs a drastic overhaul. We have a classic breakdown between a Command and Control superstructure and actual reality; but one thing Brexit will certainly not produce is more fish. In the case of the Newlyn netter fleet, they will get an awful shock if they lose half their fishing ground, being shut out of Irish waters. But there are very few skipper/owners left, and the health of the stocks is dire. 

      Fishermen are adept at finding new possibilities, and there has indeed anyway been a reduction in effort which presumably has to do some good; however, one should not necessarily take little bits of good news at face value. For example it is very doubtful that the recent good landings of hake off the south of Ireland are merely the result of a decline in Spanish fishing effort and improvement in stocks. More likely it is because, equipped with Olex chartplotters, they have now a very accurate picture of the sea-bed beneath them, and have learnt to target the hake more effectively.

     Anyway most of the British fleet, other than the inshore boats, are company owned. The capital involved could just as well be from Spaniards as anyone else. The quota system does work half well for these companies. In England they are able to buy up and manipulate fish quota in a way that is impossible for a skipper/owner, say in Ireland. Since it became frequently impossible for the Irish skipper to make a living within his quotas, selling fish at public auctions has pretty much died out, for the simple reason that it is not possible to lay out one's catch on the auction hall floor. What the log-books say and what the boxes actually contain are two different things. Meanwhile, the companies are in a better position to negotiate a modus vivendi with the authorities, and when this does break down, they can afford the odd fine in a way the skipper/owner probably cannot. Unless they  are seriously enlightened, they will find it very hard to resist the Duckie's (Trumpian) approach.

     Changing all this will be very difficult. In the extremely unlikely event of a British Government, especially a Tory one, seriously wanting to do so, the fact is that any solution will have a large market dimension, and the market is continent-wide. It will also require the active collaboration of the fishermen themselves and all stake-holders. However the fact that decision-making is perhaps more objective on an EU level, and its very remoteness means it may be less subject to local interests, has its advantages. Certainly nothing can be done when competing national interests constantly subvert and drag down to a lowest common denominator. The necessary scientific and technical know-how are also much more likely to emerge on a continental basis, along with the whole cultural revolution that is called for. 

     To develop the will and indeed the techniques to turn situations like this around is the vital task ahead of us all, if we do not want to bequeath an utterly dysfunctional and dystopic world, where pockets of elite interest scrap over the plundered and degraded remnants of a once beautiful and bountiful world. The EU can only survive and prosper, and ourselves with it, to the degree that it offers a credible context and environment for so doing.

Heading Down the London River.

       
     

One Last Heave....

One last heave, and we can bury Brexit! I am in London, to be close to the action this coming Saturday. My understanding is that as a serious proposition, if it ever was one, Brexit is dead. The die-hards are merely holding out in the hope that they may get their way on account of the pusillanimity or plain laziness of Europeans. We must now see them off, and a massive demo on Saturday is just the ticket.

One Kind of Transition!

     However, the essential contest at this stage is not so much between Brexiteers and Remainers, but rather between those desperate to get back to 'normality', whose dominant instinct is to avoid rocking the boat too much and to uphold the great British tradition of fudging difficult issues, and on the other hand those who realise that in these increasingly desperate times, issues must be faced and truths upheld. We cannot afford to carry on washing our hands with 'Truth, what is that?'

     Pontius Pilate's line with regard to Brexit goes something like this:- It has all gone on far too long. We did have that vote and cannot  simply ignore it, or we shall never get the country to pull together again; at the same time anyone with a modicum of sense is now aware that our involvement with Europe is far too broad and deep to be simply cut off. We've had a good circus, now let's concentrate on the bread as best we can!

     So what about this dangerous, idealistic notion about truths that must be upheld? What might I have in mind? To put it as simply as I can - there is a nexus of interrelated issues, from climate change and environmental degradation to the structure of wealth, which must be addressed with the utmost urgency, and the European project represents a step in this direction, a basic prerequisite for addressing these issues effectively, which must not be allowed to fail.

     Certainly, the EU has a long way to go, but what sort of an attitude is it that  represents this as a reason to opt out of the whole undertaking? It's not as if we haven't been provided with a clear personification of the alternative, whom one would like to think of as a kind of comic cardboard cut-out if he hadn't got so far, and who is openly contemptuous of the planet and its peoples, while committed to extracting as much wealth as possible on behalf of a small elite with no heed for the cost. It is an alternative which is much more present than we would have expected or have liked to think!

     In marching for an 'Open Britain' this Saturday, I for one will also be marching for the future of my grandchildren in every sense. Now is the time to combine the energies of all those determined to play their part as best they can in the Great Transition to a more just and sustainable future, a future of cooperation rather than competition, of peace rather than war, of hope rather than despair.

     If you cannot march, you might consider making a contribution to the People's Vote crowdfunding. It is hardly necessary at this stage to reiterate the reasons why Mrs May's idea that 'the People's Will' must be implemented, regardless of what they now think after the billions of words that have been uttered and the political chaos that has ensued since the 2016 referendum, is absurd. However, for a good paper on the way ahead, see:- 
 https://www.peoples-vote.uk/how_it_could_happen
     

At a Time Like This...

There are certain truths that have a particularly hard time making themselves heard; they are so troublesome that by mutual agreement we avoid facing up to them as long as possible. However, the Spirit of Truth keeps pushing, till eventually the only way forward is to acknowledge them. One such truth is that the Irish border is a gerrymander and an offence to both geography and natural justice. It is a dangerous truth that cannot be left to violent men, just because those of us committed to non-violence are too timid to speak it out.

     Curiously enough, it was by looking at the matter through the eyes of an Anglo-Irish landlord from West Donegal that I first began to see the matter this way. His name was Jimmy Hamilton, he was a good sailing friend of my father's, and we used to have great chats in our wee boats, back from France in Rye Harbour  with their cargoes of duty-free booze in the 1960s.* His father had had one of the first cars in West Donegal, and they had to go to Derry, their 'big town', to get petrol for it.

     The father's brother was murdered while having his hair cut in Ardara, home in his British army uniform during the Troubles. After that things were never the same again, and the father took to drink. The son carried his golden memories of growing up in that lovely land to his grave, but never went back. His sister, however, did, in the 1970s, when after many years working in London as a nurse, she finally married the sweetheart of her youth, a Catholic who had been in the IRA, and they settled down together at last on his farm near Portnoo. By such people was peace eventually reestablished, with the help of that wonderful political arrangement known as the Good Friday Agreement, made possible by the E.U..

     One hopes that the world is finally catching up with the fact that the more layers to an identity, the richer it becomes. What is an identity? A way of looking at life, I say - a language to interpret it. To be catholic is to be constantly striving to see things through other people's eyes. The more diverse the languages one can understand, the more tools one has to orientate oneself, and the better one's 'fix', just as a sailor takes his bearings from as many and as widely spread points of reference as he can; but he has to be very sure that, in the fog, he is not mistaking one tower for another!

     From time to time, I find myself trying to persuade Europeans that the English are indeed capable of looking at things with European eyes; that they are not, as General de Gaulle used to argue, simply incapable of being anything but a drag on the European project. I'm not sure how committed he was himself, anyway, with his 'Europe des Patries'. Granted that one does have, first of all, to stand one's own ground, and that otherwise one will hardly be capable of comprehending and respecting other people's,  then one must go on to realise that one's own ground is actually but 'a part of the Maine', to use John Donne's phrase. 

     Nigel Farrage has on occasion, when being praised as the 'father of Brexit', humbly deferred to King Henry VIII as the real one. Just why it should have happened that falling out with the Catholic Church and claiming some kind of 'higher authority' for the Bible should have led the British, and then the Americans, to appropriate the Hebrew mantle of a 'chosen race', who are entitled to occupy the lands of other peoples, is a bit of a mystery. Such a tendency has of course surfaced in many other guises, but it happens that Ulster constituted an outstanding example - so the natives were chased and the rich land was 'planted'. 

     When the remnant in the wild and rocky parts became too troublesome, a border was concocted simply on the basis of holding onto as much of the planted territory as possible. It is not 'Ulster', for three counties are excluded. It is a misnomer to call it 'the North', since the northern point of Ireland is in Donegal. Of course, borders are always fractures in human solidarity, but if there were to be a border in Ireland that made any sense, it would simply cut across from Carlingford Lough to Donegal Bay, instead of making a big loop round Co Monaghan, and then when it does nearly reach the West coast, trailing back up to Derry. If one seeks to build some kind of self-governing province in northern Ireland, as least it should be on the basis of a nine county Ulster - a fairly impractical idea, unless it be perhaps possible in the context of a strongly developed federal Europe.

     Anyone who wants to see it, anyone who has no stake in denying it, can see it. It is too late to undo the past, but it is not too late to stop digging the hole; if actual integration is too difficult, at least we can persist in the project of coexisting in peace; then, who knows what Time will accomplish? Meanwhile, let us all learn how to enjoy the rich multi-layered identities that actually correspond to the reality of what we are - citizens of the Universe, the World, Europe, Great Britain, England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Ulster, Germany, France. Spain,  Ballymagosh and all the rest!

*You can read more about it all by delving into dispatches. especially those From the Fractal Frontier in this blog.

     

Ash Wednesday Again.

Nothing unusual about this Irish March weather anyway; it is boisterous, chilly and wet, but with the day lengthening and the sun strengthening, when he does manage to break through the scudding clouds. It was much more pleasant here in February, I am told, and it certainly was in Alcobaça, where I stayed for my last trip to Portugal; it is nearer to our premises at Fervença than Nazaré, and for most practical purposes, more useful.

     It is also a delightful town, especially around the massive old Cistercian monastery. However, they rather spoilt it as I was leaving, in the name of a pre-Lent Carnival, so I came home at a good time. There were massive loud speakers blaring ghastly music all over the place, and lines of kids in fancy costumes who somehow gave the impression of being dragooned into 'enjoying themselves'. I failed to detect any real spontaneous upwelling of joy. Maybe I'm an old curmudgeon, but I'm somewhat allergic to that kind of thing, especially in old Catholic cultures, when they keep up a form of religion but have largely lost the content. Real joy depends on some sort of brush with the Divine, but when the salt loses its flavour.... 

     So much for a couple of hundred years of rationalism! The massive Abbey church was always meant to be austere, and was desecrated by Napoleonic troops, but one would have thought they might have got around to at least some Stations of the Cross on the bare stone walls. If I had the money I would try to get them some Thompson ones. Thank God for the women I came across saying the rosary in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel, and at least a surprisingly large crowd at Mass on Sunday. But where were the youngsters?

     Quite apart from the existential threats hanging over their future, I really fear for their personal spiritual health. Where are they going to find joy in life, and the will to overcome those threats? What is going to keep them interested in the human project, and inspired to accept the challenge of the future? No wonder that all over the developed world, more and more people are getting depressed and relying on drugs to keep going. How can this trajectory be turned round?

March garden.

     On a cold March day in Sherkin, the very lack of comfort forces one to dig deep to maintain the will to live, and that's all part of its advantage! But when I am away from home in Portugal, and though I very much appreciate Portuguese food, I do miss the home-grown vegetables, picked straight from the garden. Hey-ho, it's coming to life again; not that I bother with much 'deep digging' there any more. Fiona and I have kept an organic vegetable garden for nearly half a century now.  It is all part of that which keeps us committed to our home on Sherkin Island. Without making a huge deal about it, it is amazing how much food can be produced from a very small area. The crucial thing, of course, is the fertility of the soil.

     In spite of accepting the principle all those years ago in Somerset, I think it is only lately that I have really adopted the organic approach, and at the same time abandoned the attempt, even the desire, to remove all the weeds. They call it continuous cover – just cut them and leave them there to rot, preferably covered with some kind of mulch, and anyway don’t be afraid to adopt the ‘wheat and tares’ attitude. So long as they are not choked and overcome, plants thrive in company, like most things, while the soil thrives with continuous cover.

     It took a long time to change my basic approach. I used to start from the intent of getting what I wanted out of the ground. Nowadays my starting point is to husband its fertility. Of course I am very lucky that I can basically leave to Fiona the business of coaxing out of it what we need. It’s a good question whether all this stuff about organic living, the transition to a carbon free society and so on, really does hang together with the kind of spiritual revolution we all so desperately need?

     In my blog last week, I threw out the phrase ‘organic politics’. Afterwards I found myself asking whether it really stacks up? Well, in politics also, our approach has tended to be based on the assumption that we and our lot know what is best and has to happen, and must overcome all those ‘weeds’ who resist us. The approach has been that of the farmer who sprays with weed-killer, killing everything, before he plants his crop – far from the holistic approach of thinking first of the soil’s well-being, and then, in harmony with that, in humility, coax it into yielding a harvest.

     There is of course a religious dimension to this transition; in fact perhaps religious consciousness has led the way. When we really encountered people outside our own box, it became clear that it just won’t do to insist that our religion is right and everyone else’s is wrong. But such an attitude does not necessarily imply mere relativism. I as a Catholic am free to believe that ultimately the Catholic Faith is uniquely not just reconcilable with all other positive spiritual aspirations, but actually able to offer them fulfillment, which is why it is catholic and potentially universal.

     This is not to say that at this moment in history we have the Whole Truth, all wrapped up, while the others are going nowhere. No, they are very likely ahead of us in some respects, and we can learn from them, and expect that the ultimate fulfillment will draw on all the spiritual gifts and insights of humanity. The way ahead for all of us is to dive ever deeper into the Mystery, while each must jump from the ground on which they stand! A religion that stops short of that plunge into Mystery, insisting on staying on its own ground while refusing to acknowledge others, is a form of idolatry that will die away. It is actually diametrically opposed to the conviction that all good things come from one true God, and will return to Him.

      As for politics, the notion that our Party or Ideology is right and others are wrong is going nowhere. Does this imply a wishy-washy liberalism, with ‘my truth’ and ‘your truth’ forever equally valid? No, we have to make decisions and stand our ground when necessary; this calls for, first of all, the insistence on one’s own inner voice and experience, but also a continuous and rigorous self examination of our conscience. This will also lead us to respect the conscience and the experience of others.

     Unfortunately, it is very rare for our long years of education to equip us for this most vital task. In fact much of what passes for education seems to be expressly designed to stifle and ignore it, to condition young people to accept the service of some deadly monoculture rather than the cultivation of a rich and creative garden; and unfortunately there are reasons to fear that the internet, instead of opening us to others, is actually tending to reinforce the pressure to deliver what is expected of us. Little ground is left for dialogue, for mutual service and mutual enrichment. What would a politics look like that took such principles seriously?

     Perhaps, just perhaps, we are beginning to see it, all through Europe and by no means least in the United Kingdom. The notion that one can achieve freedom by cutting oneself off, defending one’s own bit of ground to the last, king in one’s own castle, is being defended so shrilly because the tide is washing it away. A politics is possibly emerging that is based on considering first of all the state of the ground, and then of growing our own crop in a spirit of dialogue, of mutual respect and consideration both for the earth and for other people’s crops, not to mention their flowers!