My main political prejudices– Or, after Edmund Burke, Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents

[This note, which is far too long, began with conversations with two friends with very different political views at different times.  It says: Australians are different to Europe because they do not like doctrine or intellectuals; they are different to America because they depend on government.  The current parties Liberal and Labor have no identity, and the old labels of left/right or conservative/liberal are useless.  We cannot find criteria to choose who to vote for and we should leave to crooks and idiots the function of putting labels on people showing how we think that they might or should vote.  Standards in politics will continue to slide, and we risk being at the mercy of nuts and populists.  This note can stand as a permanent disclaimer of my political bias on this website.]

Political issues

We are for the most part talking about politics, that is, about how we get on with each other and how we make and implement rules (or laws) for that purpose.  Those issues call for emotional and moral responses as well as what might be called intellectual responses – and in many places or times, a religious response.  Those responses might therefore not just be non-intellectual but plainly irrational.  For example, a lot of people inherit their politics like their faith from their family or school or – God save us – their class.  (Australians do not like admitting this.)

Religion does not have the impact here now that it had in the 50’s and 60’s with the DLP (and that history of ours colours the view of many here to religion), or that religion has presently in, say, the US or Iran.  Morality now has a much shakier basis than before with the decline of God and the fall of the Church.  These changes do not help us in talking about politics because we no longer share the same underlying assumptions in the way that we did before.  That change in my lifetime has been great.

There are obvious differences between the discussion of intellectual issues, and the discussion of those based on morals or faith – before we start to take in more emotional responses.  One question is whether we can discern intellectual or historical trends in the way that people react to these issues in a way that can be expressed meaningfully and safely.  Another question is whether any current political groupings adequately reflect any of those classifications.

Typing, or labelling: putting people in boxes

Perhaps the more serious question is whether it is intellectually safe or morally decent to resort to these classifications – and, as it might be said, put people in boxes.  Or type them.  Or brand them.  (Was the term ‘pink,’ or is the term ‘fascist’, even if it has an identifiable meaning, ever used with respect?)

Before breakfast at Oxford, we get access to all the major papers.  As I was going in one morning, I heard an English lady of my age saying in that soft quizzical way that the English middle class have, ‘I have just been described as a typical Guardian reader, and I am wondering how I should react.’  We discussed it over our English breakfast (with English bacon!).  What did that mean?  Was it true or fair?  How did she feel about it?  I cannot recall the upshot, but I think it may have been that the comment was a bit uppity, if not downright bloody rude.

Typing people demeans them.  It denies people their own self.  I was very taken by two observations made by Boris Pasternak in Doctor Zhivago: ‘In the Kingdom of God, there are no peoples, there are persons….To belong to a type is the end of a man, his condemnation.  If he doesn’t fall into any category, if he’s not represented, half of what is demanded of him is there.  He’s free of himself, he has achieved a grain of immortality.’

Political science, like economics, is in perpetual danger of succumbing to two propositions – that people behave rationally, and that their behaviour can be predicted.  The first is merely wrong; the second is very worrying.  The tragedy of any social science is that of a syllogism broken by a fact.  The curious thing is that often those who succumb to these fallacies are the ones who themselves become the most predictable, and boringly so.  In the words of Jane Austen, they happily submit to another lesson ‘in the art of knowing our own nothingness beyond our own circle.’  That was after all a very closed, provincial, bourgeois world, but you can find pockets of it around here now.

Typing and labelling leads easily to branding.  If you have borrowed too much, and find it hard to repay all the debt, you say that the lender is being cruel and unreasonable asking you to repay everything, and that the measures they want you to adopt are branded with the mark of ‘austerity’.  If sending the navy against unarmed refugees does not sound too good, send them against ‘people–smugglers’, and just forget their human contraband.  If you want to delete humanity altogether, just say ‘stop the boats’, and forget about everyone on board.  Some people will swallow anything, and only a pedant would remark that until recently, boats were the only way that people got here.  The First Fleet got here that way; so, apparently, did the ancestors of the blackfellas.

Abstractions and the intellect

Political discussion is also extraordinarily susceptible to the dangers involved of using general or abstract terms.  We do not like ‘–isms’ here.  We are I think different here to Europe.  They tend to put a value on high intellect and academic merit, and intellectual discussion, that we (taking after the English) do not.  (If I had to guess, I would say that the US is in between.)  Europeans like to work down from a grand design.  We tend to build up as we go.  John Stuart Mill may have been guilty of both typing and abstraction when he discerned ‘an infirmity of the French mind’ – ‘that of being led away by phrases, and treating abstractions as if they were realities which have a will and exert active power.’  The best example is the phrase ‘the French Revolution’.  There was no such thing.

But there is danger even in simpler terms.  Is there such a thing as ‘government’, or is that just a label that we apply to those people among us who are entrusted to make and administer our laws?  Do we look on a jury in the same way as we look on a parliament?  Do people like ‘government’ or is it at best an object of grudging suspicion and tolerance during good behaviour?  I do not know for Australia – I suspect a lot have that kind of view (which is about mine) – but you are not likely to see a party of anarchists here.

A while ago, David Cameron said that he would stop calling civil servants ‘bureaucrats’.  The word is pejorative if not insulting, and we have suffered enough damage to the idea of an independent civil service.  The political slide we are watching among politicians and civil servants is snowballing.

I think that our reluctance to get too wound up by intellectual ideas is very healthy.  It comes from England, and the faith that the best system of government in the world was built not out of ideas but from hard experience of a people who think that anyone who claims to have the answer is at best mad.  The German historian von Ranke said: ‘The English intellect is as far removed from the keen dialectic of the French as from the world-embracing ideology of the Germans; it has a narrow horizon; but it knows how to comprehend and to satisfy the requirements of the moment with circumspection and great practical sense.’

The upshot is that we can get into trouble when we try to impose an overarching imperative or prohibition drawn from logic on the matter-of-fact fabric of our legal thought.  The problem of judge-made policy is inherent in any system where a smooth Bill of Rights is imposed on the rough common law.  The worst example, at least in Australian eyes, is the way that the dogma of the right to bear arms has been allowed to destroy sense and life in the U S.

Australian idiosyncrasies

One result is that I think we are naturally conservative, in that we put a high value on what we have inherited and built, by hard experience rather than abstract thought, and that we deeply suspect those who think change can be well brought on by people who are merely clever.  We tend to fancy ‘a pragmatic tendency to focus on avoiding manifest harm rather than aiming for speculative improvement’.  That happens to suit me intellectually, I think, not just because I have spent a life in the law, but because my thinking reflects a heavy bias toward empirical philosophy, and Anglo-Saxon history – and the differences that I see between European history and ideas and ours’.  (In that quote, ‘pragmatic’ is favourable, but ‘pragmatism’ can suggest the surrender of principle of a trimmer; ‘speculative’ is on any view on the nose; both terms are loaded.)

Because of our different backgrounds and prejudices – I am now talking generally – we see the world differently, and we frame our questions about it differently.  And we all know that the answer depends on the form of the question – hilariously shown in Greece recently – and that the art of the advocate is to state the question in a way that makes the desired answer seem inevitable.  A lot of the problems of political discussion come when people ask different questions and then refuse to answer ones that they do not like – that is, questions that invite an answer which is or seems to be contrary to their declared position.  Our politicians now play by their own rules; they are strangers to straight talk about the world in fact.

It follows that Australians either suspect or reject outright political ideas that seem doctrinaire – as in the platform views of anything like a think tank – on either side.  The word ‘think’ is, frankly, a worry in this country’s politics.

We also follow England in distrusting those who go to the edge for doctrinal reasons – we seriously distrust ideologues.  The IPA might just replace the Socialist Left as the Australian bogeyman of extremism.  It prefers theory to evidence and ideas to people, and it is full of bush lawyers who play clever games with words and kick goals for the other team at will.  It is capable of election-losing purity.  It may be the secret weapon of the Labor Party.  Typically, only the Labor Party sees that; they have form – some time ago, I agree – on election-losing purity.

But if we are different to Europe because of our adherence to the British empirical view of the law and government, we have a very different view to those of the Americans on the role of government and the extent to which people can or should rely on government.  These differences do not derive from our British heritage, which is only partly shared because of time differences, but from the very different ways that Australia and the US grew up, starting with the Mayflower and our first fleet.

I have written about this elsewhere, but Geoffrey Blainey saw the main differences in the way that migrants arrived – theirs free except from a covenant with God, ours always with government assistance.  The frontier mentality also is much stronger in the U S, together with a Puritan tradition that is absent here.  The Puritans abhorred equity because it relieved fools of their covenants.

The result is that Australians look to government for support in ways that Americans think odd or bad, and that the Americans have a doctrinaire opposition to anything like our position.  We in turn think that their stance is at best odd, and at worst uncivilised.  The leading instance is health care.  The two nations are Venus and Mars.  We are unapologetically ‘socialist’ by many U S standards.  Many Australians regard the Americans as more than a little mad – as do many Americans.

It follows that if an Australian politician threatened to reduce government benefits in a radical way because some ideologue said that such a step was doctrinally sound, they would be kicking into two very strong historical headwinds – a historical reliance on government, and a historical distrust of doctrine.  That is why it was so silly for the Treasurer to announce the end of entitlements, and it helps to explain the public reaction to his first budget.

The party system

We inherited parliamentary democracy, the Westminster system, and the role of political parties, including the two party system, from the English.  There is no point in looking back now at the origins of ‘Tory’ and ‘Whig’ in the 17th century.  They evolved when the main issue was between the crown and parliament, when people had a logical difficulty with the idea of a ‘loyal opposition’, and during the 18th century when the English political machine was run on what they called patronage and what we call corruption.  The English constitution was in substance settled in 1689.  When the U S broke away in 1776 – before the white people settled here – they chose a very different model – one reason was that they had to find a replacement for the crown.  (Some think that they still looking for it.)  The revolution that started in France a year after the first fleet had very little effect here.

When our Commonwealth started, the English parties were mainly the conservative and liberal parties in the traditional sense of those terms.  Their labour party emerged later, as did ours, and after a bedding-down phase of a generation or so, our parties were the Liberal and Labor Parties.  The latter, both here and in England, were formed to represent the interests of organised labour – the trade unions.  That is a fundamental difference in the two party system in the U S and here and in the U K.  There is no party for labour as such in the U S.

I find it hard to say how we have benefited from either.  The Labor Party has always stood for sectional interests, been prone to blow its own brains out at least once in every generation, and been subject to doctrinal schism that might fairly be said to be that noxious thing unAustralian.  The result was the appalling national tragedy of Bert Evatt and the Split, and the disenfranchisement of a generation.  When they finally got back in under an egomaniac of great intellect and charm, they were bitter and twisted and clueless, and provoked the other side to throw the rule book out the window.

It was always hard to tell what the Liberal Party stood for, except the flag, the queen, the Women’s Weekly, the Sunday roast with World of Sport, and anything else that would anaesthetise us – together with an unremitting hostility to the unions and that Satanic force called Socialism.  They said this with a straight face although they were in bed with the Country Party, which is the Godfather of sectional interest politics and the champion of agrarian socialism – and Menzies had done more to regulate the banks than the others had dared to do.  The Liberal Party was just there to oppose the Labor Party, and after the Split they had God in the Vatican on their side.  What we now call their default position is that they may not be too flash, but the alternative is unthinkable.  Australians who find comfort there do not do themselves or their country any favours.  The suggestion that the Liberal Party is better at managing the economy is life threatening if it is true.

It is hard to see what either party stands for now, or how you could apply their history or stated principles to define the differences between them on major issues.  Both are now led by ghastly unprincipled mediocrities who stalk around the Members’ enclosure with a Form Guide in their back pocket called opinion polls.

The unions now are at best an embarrassment for Labor in this country.  When we are told that peripheral countries in Europe need structural reform, we hear of what some would say of at least some unions here.  A friend in the Labor Party said that some unions run very backward looking closed shops – some would say protection rackets – and it is not easy to see many that are well run.  If you go to the unions that are described as ‘militant’, you will not find many women, blackfellas, Asians, queers, or refugees.  Their only achievement in three generations has been to sink the split between Micks and Prots – because so few of their members could give a bugger about either.

But, although the present is not attractive to anyone who is not a bigot, there are states of mind that are deeply entrenched.  It is very hard to get back powers you have surrendered to a government, and for a democratic government to reduce the benefits that it has extended to those on whom it must rely for its support.  The present federal government has been amazingly naïve about both these forces, and has reduced itself to cowering inaction – waiting on enlightenment from the Form Guide.

But a tribal attachment to one party, or rather a tribal aversion to the opposite party, still prevails in many places.  Many people are simply unable to vote for one party.  That means that for them that the two-party system offers no choice.  It may as well not exist.  That is one reason why it is collapsing.

I have laboured these historical differences for at least two reasons.  First, we are obviously the product of our history – mistakes, accidents, tragedies, and the lot.  We have nothing like the maturity of the U S as a nation because we never had a revolution or civil war.  We still have to have a communicant member of the Church of England chosen by birth as our head of state.  Secondly, we need to recall the big difference between things as they are, and things as they might be if different views on life prevail – or things we might wish them to be, or things as they ought to be.

About ten years ago, I did a course on the philosophy of religion at Oxford.  There was audible discontent when we seemed to be spending so much time looking at what the main religions meant by the word ‘God’.  We thought that we were doing philosophy not anthropology.  The argument seemed to be: the three major religions in the west believe in one God that has certain qualities; independently of those beliefs, a God may be logically shown to exist; the God in the second proposition therefore must have the qualities of the God in the first.  The conclusion just does not follow.  Looking at how things are is different looking at how we might wish them to be if we could effect change.  But if you forget the first while looking the second, you will hit the fence very hard.

Very few people are happy with the way that our party system is now working.  It is the same in England.  As a result we have minority parties and coalition government and consequent concerns about whether elected governments will have the capacity or will to effect necessary change.  It is very rich for any member of one of the two major parties to complain that people are getting into parliament who behave like mad dogs.  People are voting these people into parliament precisely because the old guard behave like mad dogs.

The result is that we get more independent MP’s and cranks – who happen to have more appeal to many than the pros.  A more worrying trend in Europe, and some would say the U S, is a growth in parties that are unashamedly populist, and in the old language, Right wing.  The quite shameless populism of Donald Trump is a very bad swallow indeed.  The Right, like the Mafia, thrives on a failure of government and standards.

Palmer and Trump also signify the lack of faith in politics – their trump is that they are new to it and not yet corrupted.  They say that they have succeeded elsewhere, and that if they have been unlovely in doing so, that may not be such a bad thing.  They have the prerogative of the minority throughout the ages – all power and no responsibility.  They are happy to go direct to the gutter.  They are brazenly inept.  People smile or giggle nervously – as they did to some other brazenly ambitious people for far too long.  Is this prospect not alarming?

Even the most die-hard conservative does not want inaction by default.  When I told a new Liberal MP that I could see no difference between the parties, she said that she had joined the Liberal Party because they were better for small business.  I wondered about that.  Would that logically entail that in her party capital would prevail over labour?  At the crunch, would the interests of small business, the great sacred cow of Australian politics, prevail over the interests of the wage-earners?  Her party would never assert that as a platform – neither would the Labor Party ever assert the contrary.  Is there any issue now on which the platforms of the two major parties dictate policy differences between them?  If the present parties are not offering criteria to distinguish policies, where else can we go?

Left Right, Liberal Conservative

The old distinction between left and right is not helpful.  I have tried to describe it elsewhere.

The ‘left’ tend to stand for the poor and the oppressed against the interests of power and property and established institutions.  The ‘right’ stand for the freedom of the individual in economic issues, and seek to preserve the current mode of distribution.  The left is hopeful of government intervention and change; the right suspects government intervention and is against change.  The left hankers after redistribution of wealth, but is not at its best creating it.  The right stoutly opposes any redistribution of wealth, and is not at its best in celebrating it.  The left is at home with tax; the right loathes it.  These are matters of degree that make either term dangerous.  Either can be authoritarian.  On the left, that may lead to communism.  On the right, you may get fascism.

You might add that the left always claims the moral high ground and the right claims the exclusive ownership of management.

Those differences, which are very much matters of degree, hardly throw light on whatever differences there are between the Liberal and Labor parties.  They do however provide terms of abuse.  And have you noticed how many people are happy enough to brand others as Left or Right, but not all that happy to accept the invited correlative that they are then Right or Left?

About the only the only identifier left for the Left and Right in Australia is the Middle East.  Israel has the Right and the Arabs have the Left.  Why that should be so, and what good it does for anyone, is beyond me.

To go back to the beginning, we ‘are for the most part talking about politics, that is, how we get on with each other and how we make and implement rules (laws) for that purpose.’  The ultimate issue is how much we want to allow those in government to interfere with each of us by making and implementing the rules or laws for that purpose.  People who want to live with others necessarily agree to give up some of their freedom in order to do so.  It does not add that much to say that we would prefer to give up as little as possible or to keep government as small as possible.  No sane Australian wants to give powers to government that the Germans gave to Hitler or that Stalin wrought from the Russians, but very few Australians would want to have a government so small that it did not provide the level of health care that ours does.

The old distinction between the conservatives and liberals tended simply to be that the first were slower out of the blocks.  It is hard to see the intellectual justification for that view now.  It will among other things depend on how people classify the kind of change being sought.  For example, is it a change in our attitude to the rule of law, or is it a change of direction in policy to give effect to a change in community attitudes?  ‘Reform’ here is a very slippery term that might beg its own question.

If we are talking of a change of policy, should government lead?  The answer depends on what people think of the policy – and, after the event, how history has judged the change.  I can well understand people saying that unelected judges should not be involved in changing policy – but that seems to me to be the inevitable result of the U S Constitution and legal system.  And as it happens, history has vindicated the radical lead given by the Supreme Court on desegregation, and Harvard tells its students that most of the advances in civil rights of the last generation had come from class actions.  (I accept that ‘advances’ here carries a similar loading to ‘reforms.’)

Political labels again

I want to go back to my misgivings about putting labels on people for the sake of it.  It is one thing to ask someone standing for election to be candid about what they stand for across various policy issues; it is another thing to put a label on a person because the views that they express in one field suggest that they might have certain views of say a similar ‘radical’ or ‘reactionary’ nature on other issues.  The result is likely to be an insult if not a fight.

And the exercise involves arrogance at one end, and a kind of denigration of the judgment of the person branded.  It is called taking people for granted, and it is a besetting sin.  Many people are not happy unless they are put in a box – but they do not see why others are more unhappy to go the same way, or on the same tramlines.  They speak in streams – coded slogans, which are usually useless, or language charged with resentment and fear.  They hardly appear to be up for a sensible chat.  It is like talking to a brick wall, except that in their unwillingness to concede any point at all, they too often try to crash through with a fallacy.  The ad hominem is a house speciality – it suits their narky side, half way between a cat and a mouse.  They live in that world that has that ghastly label – binary.

There is little point in reading most political commentators in this country – you know what they are going to say.  They are like Collingwood supporters – it is all a game but it is a game that should only end one way; if it does not end that way, the system has failed, and the result should be neglected.

Let me say why typing irritates me personally so much.  I have set out some of the reasons why the Labor Party makes me very nervous.  The Liberal Party has the same or worse effect on me for the following reasons.  They have never been a real conservative party with a coherent conservative platform or policy.  I have not forgiven them for Vietnam, 1975, or Iraq.  I regard Little Johnny as a dreadful little vote-counter and trimmer who personally denied me the Republic that I will not live to see.  And, worst of all, the bastards forever behave like Tories born to rule.  They actually believe that they are better!  For good measure, the present crop is as brainless and gutless as ever.

I have a specific gripe against the Liberal Party at the moment.  This P M is an idiot who is not up to the job.  He is a pushy, punchy simpleton, a vapid, grinning hand-me-down from the DLP.  You do not change at his age.  He pacified people for a while, but now he is back in form.  At a supermarket the other day, he was asked how the Greek and Chinese crises might affect us.  ‘Look, the important thing is to do whatever we can to build a strong and prosperous economy locally.  And again I get back to the Grocery Code of Conduct.  We have a great supermarket system.’

Coles and Woolies will save us from China and Greece.  This is shirt-fronting, duke-knighting country.  The Liberal Party has a real P M standing there, who is preferred by most in the electorate, one who does not fawn on Bolt and Jones, but they have to wait for another call from New York before they can move.  Why are they worried?  They might look as bad as Labor looked when they ejected a loser.  And people can see how bad that was on T V.  It is pitiful, is it not?

And yet, whenever I give vent to those views, I am generally taken as indicating that I favour the other side.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  That will I think be obvious from what I have said.  How is it then that people get it so wrong?  Because for most of them, their political views are the product of as much rational thought as was involved in selecting what God they follow or what footy team they support, or whether they prefer mixed clubs or gentlemen’s or ladies’ clubs, or co-ed or single-sex schools.

The upside, I am told, is that we are not likely to wake up to Hitler or Bonaparte at Yarralumla; the downside is that civilised political discourse hardly takes place in this duckpond.  How long do we have to wait for the next long weekend footy blockbuster so that we can line up for our dispensation of bread and circuses?

Education

Let me take another example of the impact of history on politics and the way we that we live and think.  Apart from self-government, or independence, and not getting into bad wars – and there are no good wars – my big concern is education.  I think that what we have is a shambles that is a disgrace for a country as young and rich as ours.  We have two kinds of schools and those at the bottom of the pile or at the edge of town are very lucky indeed if the school that their kids go to is as good as that private school that the better off get their kids to.

If you discuss this in Paris, Berlin, or Vienna and say that part of the problem comes from our adopting the English public schools, and until recently allowing them to entrench the class system and single sex clubs, the person you are speaking to will shrug their shoulders, roll their eyes, give the rationalist version of crossing themselves, and set about a stiff drink.  (You get a similar response at Cambridge and Oxford because they are very sensitive there to allegations of elitism.)

But if there is one cow holier than small business out here, it is private schools.  That is an issue that cuts clean across all class, ethnic, religious, and financial barriers.  Any Australian politician even looking at that lions’ den is asking to be eaten alive.  If you want to blow up any barbecue or dinner party, just suggest that the parents are sending their kids to the wrong kind of school – but this is another area where any differences between the main parties are accidental.

Our wars

Before I get back to the issue of how to distinguish policies, let me just say something about our wars.  It is as if we have become addicted to failure.  When the Japs overran Singapore, we turned from the England to the U S for security.  We have since gone to war at their request.  We do so as payment on the policy of the security that they offer us.  But we never come clean about that.  It so happens that with Vietnam and Iraq there were other and worse lies too.  There is no worse a crime that a government may commit than to send its young men off to die for a lie, but we will never get an apology.

We are far too obedient with the U S – and Labor leaders always get duchessed as quickly in Washington as at Westminster.  All these problems come from our national immaturity and our refusal to cut the apron strings.  (I was interested to hear Malcom Fraser say that his disenchantment with the U S went back to the acquisition of the F111.)  On our most recent failures in Iraq and Afghanistan, public opinion was split.  But not for our politicians.  They marched on grimly in lock-step to salute the flag.  That is not even our own.

Other criteria?

Well, let us get off typing people for the sake of it, and look again at criteria for differing between policies and platforms.  Liberal and Labor are useless.  Left and right and are not much good and prone to abuse.  The question is how much power and responsibility we give to government and for that purpose the old labels ‘conservative’ and ‘liberal’ do not take us far.  One dill of a sorry bent who appeals to one senior politician fancied egoessential against egoregressive.  Well, that has the advantage of candour.

If you wanted to talk about people being ‘libertarian’ or ‘progressive’, are you doing so to classify them from above, or testing them to see whether you would vote for them?  I am not interested in the first, and I doubt whether you would find any appetite for the second.  Policy criteria must, as it seems to me, either derive from accepted custom, or provide workable tests.  The terms ‘libertarian’ and ‘progressive’ look to me to be too abstract and to look like an attempt to frame the question to attract the desired answer.

The short answer is that I cannot see what kinds of criteria might be adopted by major parties to distinguish themselves on a consistent basis across the issues of the day.  That is one reason why I think the two-party system is falling apart.

Let me look at three contemporary issues that are discussed now – the environment (climate change), immigration (refugees), and gay marriage.  I can understand some tenderness between, say, conservatives and liberals on the last, but I really have no idea why there should be said to be a similar division on the environment or immigration.  (For that matter, I do not know why the Right is always so keen to pick a fight about racism in this country, or why they want to pretend that it is not happening – when the rest of the country knows that it is.)

Current issues – the environment

I have deliberately stayed right out of the climate change argument.  I know nothing about it because my instincts told me it would be a field day for conspiracy theorists and fanatics or fundamentalists – like, say, those who get exercised over animal rights.  Why do you not just consider the evidence and make policy accordingly?  That is all that lawyers are trained to do.  Why should it be a matter for party politics?  I have no idea at all why some people on the conservative side – in the extreme case, The Australian – get so wound up this issue.  It has not been a problem for English Tories.  I have no idea why it has become so politically contentious here for those on the Right.  That is why I am so glad to be out of it.

I offer only three remarks.  I suspect that the problem is that too many people are not happy to be dispassionate, but have to take sides and team up on any issue; they have to fight because they thrive on conflict; their ultimate fear is to be left alone in a quiet room to think.  Next, I must confess to my own personal bias or prejudice on this point.  Sometimes I incline to a position for no other reason than that I distrust those opposing it.  I freely concede that this is irrational, but this is still a free country, and if people like Tony Abbott and his best mates Andrew Bolt and Alan Jones want to agree that a cat is white, I will be happy to proceed on the footing that that cat is black.  Finally, I do not know why a political party wants to adopt a position that might be shown to be empirically false – like the Vatican on astronomy.  I thought that was the kind of thing that politicians devoted their lives to avoiding.

Refugees

Nor do I have any idea why our response to the immense problem of refugees should have become a party political issue along the old conservative/liberal divide.

This is by far the biggest issue of the three.  It will still be with us when the rest has been forgotten – which will not be far away.  We have not even started to come to grips with it.  According to the U N, during 2014, more than 55 million people were driven from their homes by force.  For 2013, the U N estimated that 232 million migrated for economic and other reasons.  We just cannot get our heads around these figures.  Since 2000, Germany and Russia have taken 10 million, and the UK and France eight million.  (These figures come from a piece by Simon Jenkins in The Guardian Weekly.)  Our position is that we will take as few as humanly possible, and that we will deploy our armed forces to secure that result.

I have no idea what the answer is – that is, what is a position that the people of this country might reasonably be persuaded to adopt – but I have even less of an idea of why this issue should be split along the lines of the old conservative/liberal divide.  I would have thought that the question comes down to compassion and how a government sensibly seeks to persuade its people to adopt a course that they can live with.  As far as I can see, our government does not to think along those lines, but that still does not help me see why people should split on theoretical fault lines.

I will say that I do not know many people here who are proud of the way that our government is going about the military operations.  Nor do the Europeans seem anxious to follow our model.  It was soul destroying to see Morrison turn up with Darth Vader before crossed flags and refuse to talk about operational matters in Operation Sovereign Borders.  This government runs gunboat diplomacy like the Keystone Cops.

We now have the Australian Border Force headed by an ex-rozzer named Roman Quaedvlieg.  The website has bullshit that is astounding even by our own impressive standards.

We consider the border not to be a purely physical barrier separating nation states, but a complex continuum stretching offshore and onshore, including the overseas, maritime, physical border and domestic dimensions of the border. 

Treating the border as a continuum allows an integrated, layered approach to provide border management in depth— working ahead of and behind the border, as well as at the border, to manage threats and take advantage of opportunities.
By applying an intelligence-led model and working with our partner agencies across the border continuum, we deliver effective border control over who and what has the right to enter or exit, and under what conditions.  

Officers in the Australian Border Force are operationally focused, uniformed and part of a disciplined enforcement body undertaking functions across our operating environment – patrolling our air and seaports, remote locations, mail and cargo centres and Australia’s extended maritime jurisdiction.

There is not a word about refugees from a government that claims to follow the teachings of the Jewish man who preached about the good Samaritan taking time to help a stranger who had been robbed.  But our Prime Minister was prepared to invoke the God he believes to be the Father of that preacher in launching the Force and its Commander-in-Chief in his suit of French blue with silver leaf on the lapels: ‘May God bless you, may God bless your work, may God bless the country you are helping to protect and prosper.’

Not in my bloody name, Sport – who would want to have anything to do with a God who would respond to that sort of bullshit?  It defies belief.  This prime minister is a very stupid man, but even he might see the unlovely comparisons with a leader of a nation standing before a bundle of its flags and calling down the blessings of Almighty God on the Supremo of a quasi-military force set up deal with people less fortunate than him.

We can deploy as many in uniform as we like to stop refugees, but at some time and in some place we are going to have to face the moral question of how many we should take.  We have a land of plenty with hardly anyone on it while tens of millions are oppressed and displaced.  Years after I visited Rio, it faced a huge problem with urchins and orphans oozing out of the sewers to occupy Copacabana.  We see the same now at the channel tunnel.  Somewhere and at some time, the problem will have to be faced.  In times to come, will we resemble the young boy using his finger to plug a hole in the dyke to stop his nation being flooded?

The fixation on the sovereignty of our borders and the deployment of military force to secure them may derive from a fear of being overrun by strangers.  Then we would end up with no title to our own land.  That leads us to the question of Lenin: who are we?  Who are the true owners of ‘our’ land?  The people who currently show the most agitation on this point are commonly those who show the least agitation about the dispossession of the original owners.  Those who are most bitter about refugees are those who are least sorry for the aboriginals.  Their nightmare is becoming refugees in their ‘own’ land.  Compassion can be very self-centred.

Gay marriage

That leaves gay marriage.  Here, I can understand a debate along the old lines, between those who fear that the change may do too much damage to existing social insitutions and those who think that the change is the least that is required to bring equal rights to different forms of enduring union – and I accept that both sides would quarrel with that description.

I personally have no issue with equal rights.  I would prefer not to use the word ‘marriage’, because I don’t like being told by politicians how to use the English language, and I resent people who want to tear down rubrics to satisfy a transient urge, but I am not going to go into the trenches about one word.  If a bloke wants to leave the pub saying that he is off to sleep with his husband, he could expect a variant on the Lewis Carrol response, and not expect a standing ovation for his contribution to inter-sexual peace and enlightenment in a country boozer, but I suppose that eventually things will settle down.  (Adoption, of course, involves other considerations.)

I can understand people resisting the notion that if it looks like the numbers are there, they should bury their conscience, and lie down and enjoy it.  I can also understand people being upset if such a step is seen to be imposed by judges rather than being settled on by elected members of the legislature.

As to the latter, that risk seems to me to be inherent in the American legal system where sadly the highest court tends to divide on party lines especially when performing a de facto legislative function.  The usual complaints have been uttered in The Australian.  They have excoriated the majority and celebrated the minority – which did of course include Scalia, who is not only predictable, but predictably rude in the unshakeable conviction of his own rectitude.  Unfortunately, but typically, the commentators have not told us what the legal issue was, or what were the reasons why the majority decided that issue as it did.  It is hard to say that it is bad, when you are not told what it is.

Nor have I understood how the proposed law will adversely affect the conscience of people who are religious.  Yet Paul Kelly in The Australian says that the central issue in same sex marriage is whether the new definition of marriage ‘will authorise an assault on churches, institutions and individuals who retain their belief in the traditional view of marriage’ and ‘whether same-sex marriage will deny conscience rights to much of the population.’  I am not sure what this means, but I am entirely ignorant of any ground for suspecting that the proposed law will adversely affect the religious conscience of anyone.  Is there any basis for fearing that the proposed law may have the effect of causing people to act against their conscience?  If there were some attempt to legislate a compulsive utopia which entailed that ministers of religion were legally obliged to act against their faith, I would oppose it.

Still, I know that the people at The Australian are going through a hard time now, because in addition to their demons at the ABC and Fairfax, they now have to put up with the demons in the Supreme Court of the U S and the Holy Father, each of whom has real clout, but I do not presently understand this point at all.  Since Mr Tim Wilson is said to be involved, this may not be surprising.

Religion

Those three contemporary issues suggest to me how hard it is to fix on criteria for sorting views or voting for candidates across the range of issues that might arise here and now.

I wish to say something about one factor that has intruded in two of them – religion.  It is a fact that religion and churches are on the nose here now, and elsewhere, even more than politics, but those discontents are now merging, and it is hard to see our being better off as a result.

Our Prime Minister is keen on invoking God, or at least his God, and not just in the gay marriage debate (in which he is behaving very much as his mentor Howard did on the republic).  We might have known that the former seminarian had it in for us from the moment that he assured the nation that he would not allow his faith to affect the way that he performed his office as Prime Minister.  The other day, he told the Interfaith Parliamentary Prayer Breakfast: ‘Faith does not make us good, but by God, it makes us better.’  (Really – I have heard a recording of this; and just spare a thought for the poor bastards who have not been made better – and think of what our PM may have been like without God.)

Fairly or otherwise, the Church has been seen to be on the side of reaction, and authority, and the established order.  It is seen as the soul of conservatism.  This government is intent on preserving that record and it will not do it, the Church, or the nation any good.  If you had to nominate who had done the most damage to religion – to God and his Church – in this country, Tony Abbott or his mate George Pell, it would be a very close run thing.

Inequality

Some say that we are obsessed with inequality.  I have not seen that, but I do fear that after the problem of persons displaced by violence, most of which comes from religion, the next biggest potential cause of disorder is inequality of income and wealth.

I do not have the faintest idea about what to do about this either, but if two people report to work at a bank for a day, and one emerges with a wage one thousand times higher than the other, we have a problem.  Our whole communal life is founded on assumptions which in turn are based on notions of reasonableness, proportion, and fairness.  These notions I accept are large and unquantifiable, but, rightly or otherwise, most people have an idea of what is going when those basic assumptions are not met.  You get words like ‘outrageous’, ‘obscene’, and ‘mad’.  If some arrangement is not made, you might get something more than words.

People who either do not think that there is a problem or that if there is, it will go away if we ignore it, remind me of Louis XVI, who said in his diary for 14 July 1789, ‘rien.’  The French crown and nobility paid heavily for their failure to see and deal with the cause of the discontents within their people; so did the Russians.  As I say, I have not the faintest idea what to do, for the explosion that might come from the growing crisis of displaced persons, or inequality, but I would not be like to be around for the next version of Citizen Robespierre, or Comrade Lenin; or boats backed by warships.  I do however have the strong suspicion that our politicians have no idea of what might be in the wind.

More worrying than inequality of reward is inequality of punishment.  People down the bottom get jail terms while people at the top pull off fantastic frauds that endanger the economies of nations and the world, for which they should get about twenty years in the slammer on the tariffs set for those beneath them – instead, teams of well-heeled lawyers, financiers, and PR people meet teams of government lawyers, officials, and spin doctors, and the government agrees in a deal made in private to trouser a huge fine as a bribe, that is paid by innocent shareholders, and instead of going to jail, the guilty money men trouser another few billion in bonuses.  There will have to be a reckoning for this kind of madness.

When talking of inequality of wealth, we might remember that the wealth of nations consists largely of promises, or of the expectation that those promises will be met.  In assessing that wealth, the moral value underlying those promises may or may not matter so much, but if the underlying moral fabric is pulled too hard, the whole structure may collapse.  To adopt another metaphor, if you want to live in a castle in the air, and not just dream of it, you must ultimately come down to earth.

Trends in time

This observation is even more general and unverifiable than anything before, but I do have the impression that whereas is the 60’s and 70’s, the great conspirators and conspiracy theorists, the Looney Tunes and the bad clowns, were mostly on the left, they are now mostly on the right.  The right – they like to say the centre-right – is now more cloistered, vengeful, and paranoid than the left ever was – it is now the repository of bitterness.  It is certainly easier to discern what might be called the public enemies in that direction.  And whatever else it stands for, it is not compassion.

Similarly, what used to be called the chattering classes now seem to me to be on the side of reaction rather than change.  The new right seems to be more uptight and vengeful than the old left.  They are capable of hot and extreme language.  Some are driven to express physical revulsion and that is a sure symptom of intolerance.  They have little judgment and they are not able to make concessions.  In the result, they often find themselves defending the indefensible, and they have not learned the first precept of advocacy – if you have a good point, make it, and don’t spoil it with a dud; if you don’t have a good point, shut up.  What goes for advocacy goes for politics – or it should.  The regimes that fall over are those who do not see the imperative need to negotiate to stay in touch.

I suspect that the problem with ideologues is the same as the problem with our politicians and judges – they spend too much time in their own company.  They go to functions where you check your brains, or at least your critical functions, in at the door.  They should spend more time with people outside their own bubble.  The internet is only encouraging this Masonic clubbism.  And that is before you get to the circumambient paranoia about the ABC and Fairfax for people who gallop around in small circles like the black hats and white hats in the matinee western serial at the Ashburton Civic in 1952.

Well, all that is the kind of typing I have been complaining about.  Does any of it matter?  After all, most people in Australia hardly give a bugger about politics, and very few want to talk about it at any length.  They are dispirited by the whole bloody mess, and they think that it is the ideologues, academics, and journalists who are very much to blame for our present condition.

How to vote

Voting along party lines as a rational choice, as opposed to a caste or tribal diktat, presupposes two things – the party has a coherent platform or policy, and it can be trusted to adhere to it.  You can then see clearly why that system is over here.

I tend to look for the leader who most appeals.  Mr Baird and Mr Wetherill appear to be doing good jobs.  If I had to nominate two Australian politicians I admired, I might mention Lindsay Thompson and John Cain, two Victorian premiers.  They were completely honest.  (We take that for granted in Victoria, but we are the only ones who can.)  They were dedicated party people who saw themselves as servants of the public.  They knew and respected the system and their ambition was neither unmanageable nor indecent.

If I had to nominate two shockers I could start with Campbell Newman and Tony Abbott.  Their ambition is or was indecent.  Both thrive on conflict of the pettiest party order.  They look to be without principle and to be responding to polls rather than leading opinion, and in a very sad reliquary way.  They do not appear to respect the system, and each is guilty of inflicting a major wound on our body politic by trashing the judiciary – Newman by appointing Carmody to Chief Justice and Abbott by appointing a former High Court judge to lead his war on the unions.  Carmody and Heydon established their ineptness by accepting a position knowing it would bring the courts into political controversy.  It is impossible to assess the damage to the High Court from the appointment of one of its former members to lead the class war in an inquisition into unions.  It is sadly typical of this Prime Minister that he has no idea of the trouble he has caused.  Newman and Carmody at least had the wit and decency to quit.

Conclusions

It is hard to see any upshot, let alone upside.  I might best therefore leave it all to those with more brains.

In his Treatise, David Hume said ‘reason is and ought only to be the slave of the passions’.  The mind spells out what comes from the heart.  He concluded his Enquiries with the famous proclamation of the empirical position.  He said we could pick up any book in our libraries, and ask: ‘Does it contain any abstract reasoning concerning quantity or number?  No.  Does it contain any experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and existence?  No.  Commit it then to the flames: for it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion.’

In the preceding paragraph, we get a remark that brings those two together and applies to politics.  ‘Morals and criticism are not so properly objects of the understanding as of taste and sentiment.’  There are no demonstrable answers there.

That is the intellectual tradition that I grew up in, and as it happens, I subscribe to it.  Does that mean that we cannot talk rationally about politics?  Of course not – but there will be no hard or fast answer.  Yes, but surely sensible adults should be able to map out common ground and at least agree on what the question is and the criteria by which the question should be resolved?  Sadly, no; emphatically, no.

The reason was given by Hume a few pages before in language that is timeless.

The greater part of mankind are naturally apt to be affirmative and dogmatical in their opinions; and while they see objects only on one side, and have no idea of any counterpoising argument, they throw themselves precipitately into the principles, to which they are inclined; nor have they any indulgence for those who entertain opposite sentiments.  To hesitate or balance perplexes their understanding, checks their passions, and suspends their action.  They are, therefore, impatient to escape from a state, which to them is so uneasy: and they think that they would never remove themselves far enough from it, by the violence of their affirmations and obstinacy of their belief.

I will refer to just a few others.  Keats referred to the capacity of Shakespeare he called ‘Negative Capability, that is when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.’  F. Scott Fitzgerald expressed a similar idea when he said that ‘the test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function’.

Negative capability is not the prerogative of genius, but we all know the irritation of being kept in doubt, as in a close call on election night, or a close call on a video replay for the third umpire.  When confronted with something new we behave like small children reaching for their comfy rug.  Our whole life is a quest for bedrock, and under stress we are inclined to lapse back into slogans, formulas, or dogmatism.

Kant said that: ‘Enlightenment is man’s emergence from his self-incurred immaturity.  Immaturity is the inability to use one’s own understanding without the guidance of another.  This immaturity is self-incurred if its cause is not lack of understanding, but lack of resolution and courage to use it without the guidance of another … Dogmas and formulas, though as mechanical instruments for rational use (or rather misuse) of his natural endowments, are the ball and chain of his permanent immaturity.’

Edward Gibbon referred to our discomfort when a crutch is knocked away: ‘The decline of ancient prejudice exposed a very numerous portion of humankind to the danger of a painful and comfortless situation.  The state of scepticism and suspense may amuse a few inquisitive minds.  But the practice of superstition is so congenial to the multitude that, if they are forcibly awakened, they still regret the loss of their pleasing vision’.

That is enough.  We know what the problem is, but we have never been able to fix it, and we never will be.  It would be going too far to abolish think tanks, but we could at least scrap the study of political science, a contradiction in terms, and suggest that people read Jane Austen and Flaubert instead and get a real education.  That way we would have the satisfaction of knowing that we have sent at least one think tank clean out of its tidy mind.

The most that we can ask for is not to be put in pens or boxes, or despatched to a bad end, but to do the best we can with the ball and chain of our own permanent immaturity.

Two pairs of hands

There is a famous photo of Maria Callas as Violetta, the wronged courtesan of La Traviata (from La dame aux camellias)She is standing weeping like a distressed, wasted waif, wringing her hands.  The caption frequently says that even her hands seemed to weep.  It is a moment of theatre at its highest given by a woman who lit up the whole theatre and changed people’s lives.  Callas used her hands crossed over her chest to remarkable effect when taking bows – or when making an entrance, as at the Garnier before the French President, and upstaging Bridget Bardot, well after her voice had failed.  Callas made even her bows into an art form.

There is another famous photo of Callas in the great Visconti production of La Traviata at La Scala in 1955.  She and Giuseppe di Stefano are taking their bows.  She is what the French call radieuse; he looks handsome and respectful of her priority.  The photo, a copy of which hangs at home, is taken at the side from behind, so that their image is set against rows of boxes near the stage.  Her fulfilled radiance is caught by the full glow of the footlights.  (That loathsome shipper who defiled her life was years away.)  Her right hand holds a bouquet, and di Stefano has her left hand.  This is a portrait of accomplished artistry at what might be called the altar of the temple.

Jonathan Thurston is number 6 for the Cowboys, Queensland (the Maroons), and Australia.  He is a half-back and goal kicker – that is, he is one of the play-directors in his kind of rugby.  When the scouts came back from North Queensland about twenty years ago, they said that they had found a blackfella who could play footy, but they said that this one was too small and could not tackle.  He is now, and has been for some time, widely seen as the most valuable player in his code in the world.  Watching him at work is one of the great moments in Australian sport.  Typically he might be standing there passing the ball between his hands, with twelve of his bruisers behind him, and thirteen of the others facing him.  Each one of them could render him into something like manure, but they seem to be caught in the moment.  He just holds the ball while he holds his eye on them – he is waiting for the first hint of a drop in a shoulder that might suggest a weakness in the line.  If he sees it, he has a split second to move to pass to one of his own players, or to put himself in what he hopes will be a hole in the enemy line.  Because of the off side rule, he has to know what is going on behind him.  He therefore has to have the coolness and the antennae and play-making powers of Diesel Williams (who also had another party trick of a different order).

On the weekend I saw Thurston on TV threading a pass that shocked the commentators.  They said that it was like threading a needle – while human missiles were flying all around him.  After many slow motion replays, we finally caught the moment when that beautiful pair of hands released the pass backwards at the precise moment that allowed it to pierce the fray and to hit its fast moving target.  The other side hardly knew what had happened, and with anyone else we would have said that it was a fluke.

Whether you prefer the grace of the hands of Thurston to those of Callas is a matter of taste, and nothing more than that, but thank God that there is still some magic left in the world to relieve us of the drab misery of the measurers and the fibbers.

Riders in the Chariot

In the late 1950’s, the late Arthur Boyd painted a number of luminous and searing paintings about blackfellas.  They are called the Bride series or the like.  I used to have a print of one – striking images of a black man and a white bride in the Australian bush, they appeared to me then and now to show a phase in our national awakening.

I was looking at them again the other day in a book about Boyd.  Two things stood out.  One was the wide white eyes of the blackfellas, hunted or haunted and shifty (probably for the same reason, as in The Inquisitor of El Greco).  The other was the use of colour in the blackfellas.  Boyd had, I think, a thing about blue, especially that cobalt blue above the Shoalhaven, but in these paintings he uses shades of blue for the colour of the blackfella, and in the most confrontational painting, the blue becomes almost purple.

The late 1950’s was not an easy time for an artist in this country to broach the subject of race by looking at blackfellas and half-castes with white brides.  It must have taken some courage for this artist, who was as soft and gentle a man as you could find, to jolt his nation in this way.  It is the sort of thing that could easily lead to bloodshed in many parts of the world.  The author of the book referred to the character Alf Dubbo in the novel Riders in the Chariot by Patrick White that was published in 1961.  I do not know whether those paintings had any effect on White – if they did, his biographer did not appear to know of them – but the mention of Alf Dubbo led me to go back and read that novel, my favourite by that author, for the third time.  It is a truly astonishing work of art.

There are four riders in a spiritual chariot, people who have received some kind of light, people like seers or prophets, like spirits that may ride in chariots of fire.  They are for the most part also outcasts or misfits.

Miss (Mary) Hare is the child of a wealthy but loveless family that has a great mansion in the bush called Xanadu.  Plain and unsettling, the bourgeois life of the pastoralists passes her by, and as time goes, she merges into the mansion that merges into the landscape.  Dirty, wizened, and unkempt, she is at best a subject of pity to others in the small country town, who think that she is mad.  She may be, but she has a feeling for the earth that is denied to them – although not to the blackfellas, who are always called, and looked down on as, abos.

Mordecai Himmelfarb is a very intellectual German Jew who has literally seen the doors of the gas chambers.  His father had been baptised – he had sold out – to the mortification of his mother, and Mordecai has a load on his mind from the death of his wife.  He comes to Australia and renounces any position that he could have got as a distinguished man of letters.  The reason is simple.  ‘The intellect has failed us.’  He gets the most menial position in a factory in one of those country towns where reffos and misfits feel the full brunt of colonial small-mindedness.  Was this a place where this outcast of the world might look for redemption or even security?  Or would this escapee from the Final Solution find himself at risk in a land infected with the same Original Sin?

Ruth Joyner was born and brought up in England as an Evangelical Christian, a faith that moulded and sustained her all her life.  She loves her hymns, like the one about the ‘King in his royal State Riding in the clouds His chariot.’  She determined on her own to migrate here, and became a trusted servant to people as moneyed and unloving as the parents of Miss Hare.  For reasons that only God knows, she falls for and marries the iceman, Tom Godbold.  He is one of those no-good bastards who gets full, beats his wife, and then breeds.  Mrs Godbold, as she is called, bears all this and raises her children while taking in laundry in what is little more than a shed.  Tom finally buggers off on the night that Mrs Godbold puts on her hat and goes to get him back from the local knock-shop, Mrs Khalil’s.  Mrs Godbold is selfless, and wants to help both Miss Hare and the Jew, as he is called.  She is not an outcast as the others are, but she has the compassion of an elemental humanity, and we are not surprised at all when she is called ‘a kind of saint’.  Mrs Godbold is a solid as a rock, one of those broad-beamed women who survive, the only one of the four riders to do so.

Alf Dubbo is the half cast product of a grizzly meth-driven tryst on the river bank between a gin and an unknown white.  As a half cast outside any tribe, he is lost to the world – and as the author asks, why should we attribute his difference to the black bit rather than some Irish part?  Alf is brought up by an Anglican vicar who teaches him Latin verbs and buggers him.  Being set adrift, Alf stays for a while with a slut on a rubbish tip before taking up with a hooker who lives with a queen.  She and another queen then violate Alf in a worse way than the vicar.  They steal his art.  You see Alf, the blackfella, could see things that white men could not, and he had a gift to express his vision – a very spiritual vision – in art.  Poor Alf could never find someone to trust, but when he goes to work at the same factory as the Jew, the two feel an affinity between outcasts.  He is so down and out that one night, when he has been on the grog, he takes himself to Mrs Kahlil’s.  When he falls over, pissed, he experiences the native kindness of Mrs Godbold.

Each of the four riders speaks of the chariot, but it is very far from being a leitmotif.  White said:

What I want to emphasise through my four ‘Riders’ – an orthodox refugee intellectual Jew, a mad Erdgeist of an Australian spinster, an evangelical laundress, and a half-caste Aboriginal painter – is that all faiths, whether religious, humanistic, instinctive, or the creative artist’s act of praise, are in fact one.

And he might have added something to the effect that about that which we cannot follow, we must be silent – or give in to the creative artist’s act of praise.  Somehow the novel prefigures the work of Manning Clark who was haunted, as the riders may have been, by the wish of Dostoevsky to be there when they find out what it is all about.  Each of these misfits has something that those of us who are whole do not.

There are the moneyed people that offer some of the light relief of the kind shown in The Eye of the Storm.  There are two old widows, Mrs Jolley, who becomes a housekeeper for Miss Hare, a truly disastrous mismatch, and Mrs Flack.  They both, we find, have their secrets, and they are the blackest possible version of Edna Everage.  They are one embodiment of anti-Semitism and hypocrisy, but the amount of bile invested in them by a man who carried a lot of bile may now seem heavy handed.

But Harry Rosetree, who runs the factory, and his wife Shirl are real characters in an appalling tragedy.  That is not their real name, but they are desperate to assimilate.  Their kids have learned to crave ice cream and potato chips and to shoot tomato sauce out of the bottle ‘even when the old black sauce was blocking the hole’.

So the admiration oozed out of Harry Rosetree, and for Mrs Rosetree too, who had learnt more than anyone.  With greater authority, Mrs Rosetree could say: That is not Australian.  She had a kind of gift for assimilation.  Better than anyone, she had learned the language.  She spoke it with a copper edge; the words fell out of her like old pennies.  Of course it was really Shirl Rosetree who owned the texture brick home, the stream-lined glass car, the advanced shrubs, the grandfather clock with the Westminster chimes, the walnut-veneer radiogram, the washing-machine and the mix-master.

That is the world that our Edna would inherit, but Harry and Shirl had changed more than their names.  They had gone the way of Moshe, the father of the Jew.  They had not done so for lucre, but might they end up like Judas?  How would the arrival of the Jew sit with the conscience of Harry Rosetree?

The climax of this grand opera comes at the time of Passover and Easter at the end of the war.

When the white man’s war ended, several of the whites bought Dubbo drinks to celebrate the peace, and together they spewed up in the streets, out of stomachs that were, for the occasion, of the same colour.  At Rosetree’s factory, though, where he began to work shortly after, Dubbo was always the abo.  Nor would he have wished it otherwise, for that way he could travel quicker, deeper, into the hunting grounds of his imagination.

The white men had never appeared pursier, hairier, or glassier, or so confidently superior as they became at the excuse of the peace.  As they sat at their benches at Rosetree’s, or went up and down between the machines, they threatened to burst right out of their singlets, and assault a far too passive future.  Not to say the suspected envoys of another world.

There was a bloke, it was learnt, at one of the drills down the lower end, some kind of bloody foreigner.  Whom the abo could watch with interest.  But the man seldom raised his eyes.  And the abo did not expect.

Until certain signs were exchanged, without gesture or direct glance.  How they began to communicate, the blackfellow could not have explained.  But a state of trust became established by subtler than any human means, so that he resented it when the Jew finally addressed him in the washroom, as if their code of silence might thus have been compromised.  Later, he realised, he was comforted to know that the Chariot did exist outside the prophet’s vision and his own mind.

It must have taken enormous courage for Patrick White to take on a story about a German Jew who lives most of his life in Germany, where a lot of this book is set, and a half-caste blackfella who is abandoned to an underworld that the author could never have experienced.  It is not hard to imagine a lesser writer coming a big gutser on such an undertaking.  What we get instead is a triumph of the imagination.

I do not want to reveal the end, which is shocking more ways than one, but this is how our four riders finally come together near the end of novel.

Then Dubbo looked inside, and saw as well as remembered that this was the shed in which lived Mrs Godbold, whom he had at first encountered at Mrs Khalil’s, and who had bent down and wiped his mouth as nobody had ever done.  Consequently, as she had already testified her love, it did not surprise him now to find the same woman caring for the Jew.  There in the bosom of her light the latter lay, amongst the heaps of sleeping children, and the drowsy ones, who still clung to whatever was upright, watching what had never happened before.  And the fox-coloured woman from Xanadu lay across the Jew’s feet, warming them by methods which her instincts taught her.

As Dubbo watched, his picture nagged at him, increasing in miraculous detail, as he had always hoped, and known it must.  In fact, the Jew was protesting at something – it could have been the weight of the bedclothes – and the women were preparing to raise him up.  The solid white woman had supported him against her breasts, and the young girl her daughter, of such a delicate greenish white, had bent to take part, with the result that some of her hair had been paddling in the Jew’s cheek, and the young fellow, his back moulded by the strain, was raising the body of the sick man, most by his own strength, from out of the sheets, higher on the stacked pillows.

The act itself was insignificant, but became, as the watcher saw it, the supreme act of love.

So, in his mind, he loaded with panegyric blue the tree from which the women, and the young man His disciple, were lowering their Lord.  And the flowers of the tree lay at its roots in pools of deepening blue.  And the blue was reflected in the skins of the women and the young girl.  As they lowered their Lord with that utmost breathless love, the first Mary received him with her whitest linen, and the second Mary, who had appointed herself the guardian of his feet, kissed the bones which were showing through the cold, yellow skin.

Dubbo, taking part at the window, did not think he could survive this Deposition, which, finally, he had conceived.  There he stood, sweating, and at last threatened with coughing.  So he went away as he had come.  He would have been discovered if he had stayed, and could not have explained his vision, any more than declared his secret love.

Alf Dubbo had never seen The Deposition by Pontormo at the Santa Felicita in Florence, but he may have seen a picture of it on one of his trips to the public library to investigate whitefella art.  He would surely have marvelled wide-eyed at the softness of the Mediterranean pastel colours, so unlike his own flash dabbings, and the fluid innocence and majesty of the scene.  What was it about Boyd and White that led them to express their compassion for our outcasts in the colour blue at about the same time in our drab national journey?

This is writing of sacramental and humbling power – like the paintings of Boyd.  These works of art are acts of both courage and faith, and they remind us that above the tawdry records of the world, there is the insight into our own humanity that we get from our great artists like Arthur Boyd and Patrick White, who teach us that art is the lyrical reflection of the human condition.

Passing bull 9: Let’s hear it for mere bullies

Prejudice warps thought.  People who have made up their minds and do not want to change them do not think straight.  They will go around corners to avoid a result that they do not like.

You can see two instances of this kind of warped thinking in the reaction of people like Bolt and Jones to the controversy about Adam Goodes.  They say two things – Goodes asked for it by provoking people (a view endorsed by silly people like Kennett and Latham); and at least some of those in the crowd giving offence were bullies and not racists.  It is not clear whether these arguments are said to be a defence or merely something put in mitigation of the offence.  I rather fear that it is the former.

Let us take the bully first.  Bullies are people who use their superior position to intimidate and hurt those people who are not as strong as they are.  A racist is a person who thinks less of another person because of their race and who as a result is more likely to hurt such people than others.  The racist will usually see themselves as being in a superior position to the person of a different race.  We can then see that using a superior position to hurt others will be common to many acts of bullying and racism.  Put differently, the racist in action is just one type of bully.

Is this not just what we see in the people booing Goodes?  They are using their superior position to intimidate and hurt Goodes, and part of their felt superiority and his perceived inferiority is that they are white and he is black.  Can you imagine a member of the Thought Police asking those booing – are you doing this because you do not like aboriginals, or just because you are a bully?

But even if you could separate some bullies from the racists, where does that get you?  Does the abuse of power become any less vicious or hurtful because the wrongdoer is miraculously oblivious to the difference in race?

Let us then look at provocation.  If there is provocation in some relevant moral sense, it is not generally thought to offer a complete defence, but only some extenuation.  And you may have to be careful how you put the argument and in what company.  If a person charged with rape admitted the offence but said that the victim had asked for it – the argument of the President Zuma of South Africa – or provoked him by getting out in public so scantily attired, the net result might be another couple of years in the slammer.

But when you get down to look at what Goodes has done that is said to have been provocative, you find tension if not conflict between the two arguments.  The mere bully says that race is irrelevant.  Can the person provoked claim this when both acts relied on as provocation – maintaining a complaint of racial discrimination and performing an aboriginal dance – are inextricably bound up with the race of Goodes?  Indeed, at least some of his accusers maintain that it is Goodes who is creating racist division by asserting pride in his own history.  People who discriminate against others and hurt them almost inevitably say that the victim has done something to earn their fate, and that claim in my view only aggravates the original offence.

In my view, each suggested answer is bullshit that only makes the offence and its defenders worse.

There is in truth an air of unreality to this whole discussion, which is a discussion that we should not need to have.  It is only made necessary by the warped judgment of people whose minds are closed, and who refuse to try to look at the position of other people involved.  No one says that the booing of Goodes is good or healthy.  But what its defenders refuse to concede is that real people are being hurt by it.  A blackfella in the Kimberley said this (if it matters, in The Australian):

Hope and opportunity are not words that are used up here very often.  This latest furore has given all those kids who want to be the next Adam Goodes a kick in the guts.  Why would you want to succeed if all you do is cop abuse?  If we are to get ahead, to hope and aspire, our young people must have role models to look up to.  There is no greater role model than Adam Goodes to us blackfellas.  We are proud of his achievements, his drive, his ambition and the recognition he has won in the toughest arena of all – white Australia.  So, the next time you boo a footballer like Adam Goodes, remember you’re booing those young hopeful kids in the backblocks of Australia who only want a chance to showcase the unique skills and talents indigenous footballers bring to our wonderful national game.

And that is before you get to the pain and suffering inflicted on a dual Brownlow medallist and Australian of the Year.

Bigots like Bolt and Jones do not think of this.  It is not just that they will not allow mere humanity to stand in the way of a good conspiracy theory, it is that their livelihood depends on conflict.  People like Kennett and Latham do not want to confront the evidence because they are pig-headed and big-headed, and their people gave them the boot for just that reason.  Even God-fearing doubters like me pray for the day when Bolt and Jones go the same way.

But the Alice in Wonderland – the bullshit – does not stop with silly speculation about the state of mind of the crowd.  We get it with speculation about the state of mind of the victim – or, for Bolt and Jones, the man who is the culprit.

It is apparently said that when Goodes performed his dance, and spear-throwing routine, he was being threatening and warlike.  The blackfellas have a different view of the effect of this ritual and they are insulted by being lectured by whitefellas who do not understand them.  Let us put that to one side.  Let us also put to one side that the three preeminent football codes played in this country are essentially war-like and threatening in their nature: it is of their essence that they are tests of manhood and courage.  Is it suggested that when Goodes performed this dance he was threatening war?  Was one blackfella picking a fight with about thirty thousand whitefellas?  Are we not here in the realm of diagnosable insanity?

Two of the best blackfella footballers in the country play a different code.  Ingles and Thurston are of the ilk of Franklin and Ablett.  Ingles celebrates a try – sometimes for Australia – with a goanna crawl.  Andrew Bolt is relaxed about this.  Why?  ‘That’s not a threatening move’.  Is this what the national debate has come to?  If it is, Bolt should not go to watch Thurston against the Raiders, because J T, as he is known, will perform his own war jig in solidarity with Goodes if he scores a try – and poor Andrew might be scared out of his tidy wits.

In my previous note, I said that the political savoir faire of Adam Goodes may be open to discussion.  If he had asked my advice about the conduct complained of, I may have been cautious.  But who am I to criticise him?  I am a white babyboomer with a public school and university education, topped up now and then at Oxford, Cambridge, or Harvard, a member of an exclusive and privileged profession that involves a monopoly that encourages people to charge like wounded bulls, and who for nearly thirty years has been invested with the full power of the State of Victoria over other Victorians.  I have never been spat on, looked down on, or just abused in public by people who regarded me as racially inferior.  What bloody right might I have to sit in judgment on the conduct of blackfella footballer?  Just where does the arrogance come from for those who claim this right?

That brings me back again to the Prime Minister.  I am very sorry that his response was so late and so anaemic because I had thought that his attitude to the blackfellas was better than that.  His problem is not just that Bolt and Jones are friends and allies – they are soul-mates and political warriors who all thrive on conflict.  It is an old saying but true – if you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas.

Marcia Langton was shocked by the ‘the widespread tolerance and support for the most vicious kind of racism that I have seen since the dark days of apartheid.’  As ever, the cover-up is worse than the original offence.  I was not shocked by the attacks on Goodes and the reaction to those attacks, but I was shocked by the viciousness of the attacks on Julia Gillard and the simple refusal of so many people to see that she was being attacked as a woman, just as Goodes is now being attacked a blackfella.  The whitefellas have some awful demons in their Dreamtime that they do not want to confront.  Perhaps we should take lessons from the Germans.  Either way, these failings make you ask just what being an Australian might decently mean.

The other and worse purveyors

We tend to look down on whores.  They may perform a service by trading in lust – Aquinas called them the shield of marriage – but there is something distasteful about their work, rather like that of night-carters.

People who trade in conflict rather than lust are another matter.  They do not seem to perform any useful service at all.  Rather, they trade and profit greatly from getting down in the gutter with the kind of people who will embrace them.  Take those frightful people called shock jocks.  They encourage conflict by appealing to bogans.  What do I mean by ‘bogan’?   Someone who has been brought up without taste, courtesy or tolerance, and who is hostile to people who are better or just different – the kind of person who follow Andrew Bolt or Alan Jones.

In the poem ‘A Prayer for my Daughter’, W B Yeats wrote:

An intellectual hatred is the worst,

So let her think her opinions are accursed.

No one would accuse Jones or Bolt of being an intellectual – the contrary is the case – but they are two of the most opinionated people on earth.  And they trade and profit from giving their opinions on any subject under the sun to bogans; and then they thrive and trade on the conflict that they have generated or fanned.  Each of them comes within a later phrase from the same poem – ‘an old bellows full of angry wind’, or these lines:

For arrogance and hatred are the wares

Peddled in the thoroughfares.

You can see how they ply their trade in arrogance and hatred in the very sad controversy about the aboriginal footballer named Adam Goodes. Goodes has offended Bolt and Jones in two ways.  He complained about being called an ape, and he performed a kind of aboriginal dance during a game.  For those two acts, he is being booed by large sections of the crowd, and as a result he is now thinking of giving the game away.  Try explaining that to someone from overseas.

This is truly awful for the AFL.  They have served up the worst footy ever on the field this year and now they have bogans in the crowd bringing the game into disgrace.

Then an aboriginal team-mate of Goodes upset some people, including a remarkably stupid state premier, by posing as a spear-thrower.  The photo of him that appeared in the press looked just like the famous sculpture of the Artemisian Zeus in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens.  There are after all not many ways that you can throw a spear.  I seem to recall a version of this sculpture at Melbourne University.  I don’t recall it upsetting people, although I seem to recall it getting a coat of Kiwi boot polish where it would be most uncomfortable, rather after the manner of the darker side of bucks’ parties as then practised by whitefellas in very ugly rites of passage.

No one – not even Bolt or Jones – tries to justify this appalling conduct of the bogans in the crowd, but both insist on making comments which they know must fan the flames.  They both do so with a level of drivel that would have made Goebbels blush.

Bolt is angry that Goodes referred to rapes, killings and thefts carried out by whites against blacks.  Goodes did so in terms that were less blunt than those used by Paul Keating when he was Prime Minister, but for Bolt this stand by a blackfella ‘was to twist the facts to suit the fiction of a country rived by racism.’  There is something dark in the psyche of Bolt that drives him to enter any discussion of race or racism and always in such a way as to belittle and offend those of a different race.

The arrogance of Jones is boundless.  He says that the problem is all the fault of Goodes.  He says that Goodes always plays the victim.  The crowd are booing Goodes because they don’t like him – they don’t like his behaviour including his spear-throwing and doing a war dance – provoking people.  There you have it.  Goodes has provoked the bogans.  How?  By standing up for himself.  Adam Goodes is just another bloody uppity abo.

Those who do not see this for the frightful racism that it is have not spent enough time with bogans.  When a blackfella got offended by being called a black cunt, I heard him described as a whinger and a girl.  I saw the start of last year’s Grand Final in a pub, and within ten minutes the appreciative bar was told that in addition to being a whinger, Goodes was also a poofter.

The political savoir faire of Adam Goodes may be open to discussion, but he has on any view been what the late Doug Heywood used to call an ornament to the game.  Skunks like Bolt and Jones are not fit to tie his bootlaces, and it is a source of great pain and sorrow to me that our Prime Minister consorts with and is a friend of both of them.

Two big books II – Les Miserables

At least three great novels are blighted by overlays that would not have survived a strong editor – Les Miserables, War and Peace, and Moby Dick.  You can prune the last, and you get used to glossing Tolstoy’s diatribes against Napoleon – but there is a huge amount of fat in the Hugo novel, including long dissertations on Waterloo (to vindicate Napoleon) and the sewers of Paris.  It is curious that the enormous ego of Napoleon should have prompted the equally enormous egos of Tolstoy and Hugo literally to lose the plot and just bang on about their hero or anti-hero as the case may be.  Both could do with being told of the first law of advocacy – if you have a good point, do not spoil it with a dud: you will lose your audience.  As it is, while the Everyman Middlemarch comes out at 890 pages, their Les Miserables comes out 1430.

A strong young man named Jean Valjean is sentenced to the galleys when he steals to feed the family.  With time for escapes, he does about twenty years, and when he gets out he is a marked pariah.  A saintly bishop, a contradiction in terms then, gives him refuge.  Valjean steals the silver, but when he is arrested, the bishop says that he gave the silver away.  This act of goodness changes Valjean forever.  He becomes a man suffused with benevolence, and after perfecting a new process, he becomes fabulously rich, and the benefactor and mayor of a town.

But his past catches up with him in the form of an obsessive police agent called Javert, who pursues Valjean as his life’s work.  A young woman called Fantine is left pregnant by a young man about town in Paris.  She comes to work in Valjean’s factory, and without his knowledge she is sacked.  She sells her hair, her teeth, and then her body to keep herself and her daughter Cosette alive.  She dies in misery, and Valjean accepts responsibility for raising Cosette, in large part in a convent where Valjean works under cover as a gardener.

A link between the two threads is provided by the Thenardiers, frightful people who Fantine first left Cosette with.  We are told that Thenardier was one of those who scavenged the dead after Waterloo, while posturing as a soldier, and that is the model of his life.  He keeps coming back into the story like a cancer through coincidences that are fantastic.

These lives are played out in the aftermath of the French Revolution starting in 1789 and the further revolutions in 1830, 1848, and 1870.  A young student called Marius – whose military father wrongly thought that Thenardier had come to his aid at Waterloo – gets caught up in the revolutionary fervour of the times.  When he is wounded at the barricades, he is saved by Valjean and he will marry Cosette.  Javert is finally unmanned by the goodness of Valjean in saving his life.  When he cannot do his duty and arrest Valjean, Javert ends his own life in the Seine.  The book ends as Cosette and Marius cover the dead hands of Valjean with kisses.

Early on we get this about the Great Terror:

‘1793.  I was expecting that.  A cloud had been forming for fifteen hundred years; at the end of fifteen centuries it burst.  You condemn the thunderbolt’.

It is a good line.  But what happens when the abstraction leads to the dismissal of a class?

They [the Thenardiers] belonged to that bastard class formed of low people who have risen, and intelligent people who have fallen, which lies between the classes called middle and lower, and which unites some of the faults of the latter with nearly all the vices of the former, without possessing the generous impulses of the workman, or the respectability of the bourgeois.

The Thenardiers are awful, and we know such people are about, but is this clever, or merely nasty?  Did George Eliot stoop to this typing or aspire to this judgment?  This preoccupation with abstraction and class looks anything but humanist.

When we get to Waterloo, we get pure bullshit.  We are told it was a great battle won by a second rate general, and that Napoleon lost because fate decided he had had enough – rather like the gods with Hector.  Here is some of the claptrap.

…this war, which broke the military spirit of France, fired the democratic spirit with indignation.  It was a scheme of subjugation.  In this campaign, the object held out to the French soldier, was the conquest of a yoke for the neck of another.  Hideous contradiction.  France exists to arouse the soul of the peoples, not to stifle it.  Since 1792, all the revolutions of Europe had been but the French Revolution: liberty radiates on every side from France.  That is a fact as clear as noonday.  Blind is he who does not see it.  Bonaparte has said it!  The war of 1823, an outrage on the generous Spanish nation, was at the same time an outrage on the French Revolution.  This monstrous deed of violence France committed, but by compulsion; for aside from wars of liberation, all that armies do, they do by compulsion.

This is very nasty claptrap.  A Russian man being bayoneted or a Russian woman being raped takes no comfort from the fact that the crime against humanity is committed in the name of Napoleon rather than Hitler, or in the name of liberation rather than enslavement.

This preoccupation with intellectualism and a refusal to come to grips with history are not helpful to Hugo.  Sometimes the jingoism is breathtaking.

But this great England will be offended at what we say here.  She has still after her 1688 and our 1789 the feudal illusion.  This people, surpassed by none in might and glory, esteems itself as a nation, not as a people.  So much so that as a people they subordinate themselves willingly, and take a Lord for a head.  Workmen, they submit to be despised; soldiers, they submit to be whipped.

It is as if the French had found the answer to peaceful governance and equality, but the whole 1430 pages of a book whose title could be The Have-nots is dedicated to showing that any such proposition must be false and that France had to endure agony for a century after 1789.  The importance of the English 1689 is that they never needed another revolution.

People were slaughtered in France in 1830, 1848 and 1870.

The Revolution of July [1830] is the triumph of the Right prostrating the fact.  A thing full of splendour.  The right prostrating the fact.  Thence the glory of the Revolution of 1830, thence its mildness also.  The right when it triumphs has no need to be violent.  The right is the just and the true.  The peculiarity of the right is that it is always beautiful and pure……

Revolutions spring, not from an accident, but from necessity.  A revolution is a return from the factitious to the real.  It is, because it must be.

This may be par for the course for Continental rationalism, but what happens when the beautiful and pure gets feral, as it did in 1793 (and as it had done on 14 July 1789)?

The Edenisation of the world, Progress; and this holy, good, and gentle thing, progress, pushed to the wall and beside themselves, they demanded terrible, half-naked, a club in their grasp, and a roar in their mouth.  They were savages, yes; but the savages of civilisation….They seemed barbarians, and they were saviours.  With the mask of night, they demanded the light.

Anyone falling for that kind of nonsense has got real problems.  It poses real issues of trust in the author.  It is a pity, because the story is strong, and good when the author sticks to it.  A cohort of Marius at the barricades named Enjolras shoots in cold blood a fellow revolutionary who gets out of line.  Here we meet the credo killer like the Commissar in Doctor Zhivago.

‘Citizens’, said Enjolras, ‘what that man did is horrible and what I did is terrible.  He killed, that is why I killed him.  I was forced to do it, for the insurrection must have its discipline.  Assassination is a still greater crime here than elsewhere; we are under the eye of the revolution, we are the priests of the republic, we are the sacramental host of duty, and none must be able to calumniate our combat.  I therefore judged and condemned that man to death.  As for myself, compelled to do what I have done, but abhorring it, I have judged myself also, and you shall soon see to what I have sentenced myself.’

Those who heard shuddered.

There in truth is the eternal dilemna of the revolutionary – where does the power come from, and how will it be surrendered?  You can get more from that one paragraph than all the reams of political nonsense in the whole work.  And there you can get an idea of the hold of this novel on the French imagination, as great as The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and an idea of why it is the subject of more films and theatre than perhaps any other novel.

III  George Eliot and Victor Hugo

Mary Anne Evans (1819-1880) had a religious middle class upbringing; she only rejected the former, although she shed her provincial accent while studying French and the piano at Coventry.  Because she was thought to be plain, she was given a full education.  She got into literary circles and edited the radical Westminster Review for a while.  She lived in a happy de facto marriage for more than twenty years with a writer who was her helper.  She had travelled and could set her writing in Europe.  She wrote a number of successful novels.  Middlemarch is the best known.  According to the Cambridge Guide to Literature in English, she was one of the finest letter-writers in the language, and she stands pre-eminent in a century of gifted women writers.

Victor Hugo (1802-1885) was the son of one of Napoleon’s generals.  He studied law, and went into writing.  He became best known in France as a poet, and best known outside France as the writer of two great novels.  France endured unsettled agony throughout almost all Hugo’s life, with one form of revolution and change of government following another.  Hugo was actively involved in politics, as is the way with French intellectuals.  He spent some time in exile in Guernsey, and his views on religion and politics fluctuated, although he was dead against the Church of Rome.  In many ways his ups and downs mirrored those of France.  The whole of France mourned his death, and he was given a funeral for a hero of the nation.  His body lay in state under a black-draped Arc de Triomphe; more than two million showed up for the funeral.

His personal life was at least as vibrant as his public life.  M. Hugo was a man of appetite.  He had wives, partners, and mistresses.  He might maintain three households at once.  He went after actresses, courtesans and any woman except one living under one roof with a husband.   He might bed a prostitute before lunch, then rendezvous with an actress, and then meet in private with a courtesan, before going home to his mistress or his unofficial wife for dinner and love-making.  Alexandre Dumas, the creator of The Three Musketeers, fancied himself with women, but he knew what happened in a straight contest with Hugo.

I can spend many days in the preparation of love with a lady.  I sigh, I send her gifts, I inscribe tender sentiments in my books, I dance attendance on her.  He smiles.  He bends over her hand, and when he kisses it, she believes she is the only woman in all the world for him.  She is not only captivated by him, but she forgets that I exist.

The reputation of M. Hugo was such that women called and waited on him

He had immense endurance.  Breakfast was just coffee, but the light meal at lunch was more serious – pate, an omelette or fish, a roast meat with vegetables, a salad, pudding, and cheeses, all with different wines.  The big meal was dinner.  Two dozen oysters or mussels; a hearty soup; fish, say two broiled lobsters in their shells; roast chicken and then beef; a salad; dessert (say chocolate mousse with brandy sauce), plus four to six oranges, unpeeled.  And again, a different wine with each course.  He did not get fat or contract any venereal disease, and he lived well into his eighties.

It is perhaps, then, not surprising that a novel of George Eliot might have a different tone to a novel of Victor Hugo.

Passing bull 8 Getting validated

If you validate a travel pass, you do something to it to make it operate to cover a cost of travel by ensuring that you will pay a fee for that travel.  If you validate an assertion or argument, you demonstrate that it is valid – you show, either by evidence or logical explanation, that your position is well founded or sound; in the words of the OED, you show that your position is one ‘against which no objection can be fairly brought.’

We are seeing a new emotional kind of validation.  It occurs when one alleged victim finds support from another alleged victim.  So, when the courts in the U S opened the way for long standing complaints against Bill Cosby to be brought on, and others came forward to do that, the original complainants said that their complaints had been validated.  They had not been validated at all.  They had not even been corroborated.  All that had happened was that other complainants had come forward.  If one or other of those complaints were to be found to be valid in a fair hearing, the question would then arise whether that finding could properly be put forward to support the assertion that the accused had been guilty of similar conduct on another occasion.  You do not have to be a lawyer to see the danger of people being found guilty of an offence because someone has found that they have committed a similar offence at another time.  Nor do you have be a lawyer to see the danger of the herd instinct taking over or of the herd becoming a lynch mob.  This is the kind of stuff that evil people like shock jocks peddle.

This emotional kind of validation therefore looks like bullshit.  We have just seen it in Kenya with President Obama.  He called for equality or equal rights for gay people in Kenya.  That led someone from Amnesty to say that the position of Kenyan gays had been validated.  It is hard to imagine any sense of that term that does not lead to bullshit in this context.  Mr Obama is not God.

Someone had apparently said that there might be limits on how far the west could impose its values on Africa – or the Middle East, or the rest of Asia.  Or Russia.  This led the Amnesty lady to ascend the stratosphere of bullshit.  She said that equal rights for gays was a universal value, or something to that effect.  Putting to one side the very big job of teasing out some verifiable meanings in those terms, this statement is obviously false.  There are obviously different views on this issue in say Nigeria and Russia than say Washington, D C.  You do not see gays being whipped by Cossacks in Washington.

The President of Kenya said this was a ‘non-issue’ there.  I am not a Kenyan, but I do know what it is like to be lectured, and what is like to get tired of the arrogant superiority inherent in the lecturer   People in the west who dismiss out of hand the position of people in, say Africa, as not conforming to universal values risk being charged with something far more serious than arrogance.

This is something that our man at the Human Rights Commission, Mr Tim Wilson, he of the alpine salary and expense accounts, might bear in mind.  When someone from a different ethnic background expressed difficulty with those people coming to grips with equal rights for gays, Mr Wilson said that the comment was ‘despicable.’  Some may have hoped for a grain of tolerance.

Still, bullshit might be like cholesterol – there is good and bad.  Here is what I call good bullshit.  It comes from the Preface to a history of England by the great German historian Leopold von Ranke published in English in 1875.

If we were required to express in the most general terms the distinction between English and French policy in the last two centuries, we might say that it consisted in this, that the glory of their arms abroad lay nearest to the heart of the French nation, and the legal settlement of their home affairs to that of the English…..These European emergencies coinciding with the troubles at home bring about a new change of the old forms in the Revolution of 1688, the main result of which is that the centre of gravity of public authority in England shifts decisively to the parliamentary side.  It was during this same time that France had won military and political superiority over all its neighbours on the mainland, and in connection with it had concentrated an almost absolute power at home in the hands of the monarchy.

Now, as the learned author acknowledges, all this may seem large – and to be beyond validation.  But Ranke was a very big hitter, who was entitled to chance his arm now and then, and he just might give us a kind of insight into our past that we did not have before.  He may even have found the vibe.

Passing bull 7 – Remorse in Japan and here

If you got referred to the headmaster for having a cigarette behind his house, and you said ‘I am deeply remorseful about this, sir’, he would know that he had a serial bullshit-artist on his hands – and a serious candidate for high office in this great nation.

If you feel remorse, you show it by saying that you are sorry.  That might be called an apology, and you might say that you apologise, but saying that you are sorry is what counts.  That is what we – the white people who took this land – said to the people that we took it from.  Adding a veneer of depth or sincerity may only suggest the opposite.

There was therefore something hollow about the apology of Mitsubishi for using captured soldiers as slave labour during the war.  ‘Today we apologise remorsefully for the tragic events in our past.’  It is not for the wrongdoer to anoint themselves with the balm of remorse.  And what was ‘tragic’ about these crimes against humanity committed by one of the most vicious, cruel and racist regimes known to mankind?

The Telegraph gave a context from an account given by a Scots survivor to his son:

‘The conditions were horrendous’, Mr Gibson said. ‘My father told us that inside the mine there would be roof cave-ins, flooding and pockets of poisonous gas.

‘It was also high up in the mountains and freezing cold much of the time, yet the PoWs only had the clothes they had been wearing in the tropical jungle.  They used to make mittens and other clothes out of grass.

‘There were no Red Cross parcels as the Japanese used to keep them for themselves,’ he added. ‘My father told my brother about a man who tried to steal a bit of food from the shipyard but was caught and beaten up.

‘The next day, the Japanese staked him out over a bed of fast-growing bamboo, which grew through his body and eventually killed him.’

After the war, Hichiro Tsuchiya, the mine foreman, was sentenced to 15 years hard labour after being found guilty of nine counts of assaulting prisoners, including with the handle of a pickaxe.

The prisoners were ‘treated as rubbish’ because they had surrendered, as the Japanese had been brought up to believe that committing suicide was preferable to surrender, Mr Gibson said.

 

The worst think about this apology was the time it took.  One victim said ‘For 70 years we wanted this.’  The victims who survived suffered more from thinking that the criminals were getting off – for seventy years, the length of my life so far.  Did the people at Mitsubishi say that they were sorry for the pain that they had caused by refusing to say that they were sorry?  What was it that finally cracked the hard face of the monolith?

But there will be oodles of remorse at Toshiba because unless the law of Japan is very different to ours, big heads there look to be headed for the slammer.  They have been cooking the books to the tune of billions for years and years – and they have been caught – and that is the only reason that we know of it.

The company released a statement: ‘The company takes the situation that it has caused very seriously and we deeply apologise to our shareholders, investors and other stakeholders.’

The report that led to the group resignations at the top said: ‘Within Toshiba, there was a corporate culture in which one could not go against the wishes of superiors.  Therefore, when top management presented ‘challenges’, division presidents, line managers and employees below them continually carried out inappropriate accounting practices to meet targets in line with the wishes of their superiors.’

The word ‘culture’ is suspect, but it does appear that in each case there was a culture that did not allow for personal conscience – before the crime or after it.  The trouble with maintaining a front that says that you do not have to apologise is that you are living a lie and that what once lay behind that front may just shrivel up and die.

Our Treasurer may not be feeling remorse, but he is remarkably rich and thick-skinned if he is not feeling sorry for himself.  His public standing is at best no higher than if he had not sued, but he will be net out of pocket to the tune of about a quarter to a half a million dollars.  He said: ‘After nearly 20 years in public life, I took this action to stand up to malicious people intent on vilifying Australians who choose to serve in public office to make their country a better place.’

That is vintage bullshit.

The press are grizzling.  They never stop.  It is hard to imagine a better deterrent – the press calls the Treasurer a ‘Treasurer for sale’; he sues on a lay-down misere and wins – but he still comes a gutser in an amount that would bankrupt even those who have a decent job.

Passing bull 6 Remorseless politicians

When judges come to sentence a person for a crime, they commonly use the rather old-fashioned word ‘remorse’.  If you feel remorse for your conduct, you are sorry that you have done something wrong.  It is obvious then why this inquiry is made by sentencing judges.  If the criminal is not sorry for the crime, their conduct in the past looks so much more heartless, and their conduct for the future looks so much more risky.  This lack of remorse will obviously increase the penalty.  The ultimate threat is the gloating terrorist.

Yet, for the most part our politicians are reluctant to show remorse; many of them are incapable of it.  They do not like saying ‘I am sorry.’  When did you last hear a politician say that ‘I did the wrong thing and I am sorry’?  This inability to own up is just another reason why we cannot trust the bastards.

One politician claimed expenses to which most would say that she was not entitled.  She repaid the money without any admission.  When asked if she would apologise, she said: ‘The best form of apology is to repay the money.’

This is obviously bullshit.  Covering your rear by refunding a disputed payment is a world away from saying ‘I did the wrong thing and I am sorry.’  That is a tactical retreat by a person not even admitting that she has misconducted herself.  She is having an each-way bet.  She is behaving with the soulless prudence of a claims manager rather than a person in a position of trust responding in good faith to a legitimate question about the discharge of her office – something that even our law requires.

The problem is a little worse for this politician.  She either believes that cutting a cheque is the best form of apology or she does not.  If she does not believe that, this is just another case of deliberate bullshit by a politician, a glib throwaway masking a silly lie, something cosied up by a clever political aide to fend off the press with and to maintain the Teflon status of their boss.  But if she does believe – if she really and truly believes – that repaying the money is the best form of apology, then God help all of us.

Two Big Books I Middlemarch

Early on (page 3) in Middlemarch by George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) we get this for the heroine Dorothea Brooke:

A young lady of some birth and fortune, who knelt suddenly down on a brick floor by the side of a sick labourer and prayed fervidly as if she thought herself living in the time of the Apostles – who had strange whims of fasting like a papist, and of stirring up at night to read old theological books!  Such a wife might awaken you some fine morning with a new scheme for the application of her income which would interfere with political economy and the keeping of saddle-horses: a man would naturally think twice before he risked himself in such fellowship.  Women were expected to have weak opinions; but the great safeguard of society and domestic life was that opinions were not acted upon.  Sane people did what their neighbours did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them.

Well now – here is a crisp statement of the dilemna of Christianity ever since its founder took to the money dealers in the Temple; and Jane Austen, too, had humour – but as mordant or dry as this humour?

Dorothea sounds a lot like Greer Garson in the movie Pride and Prejudice.  Her naïve idealism leads her into marriage with a frightful pedant, Mr Edward Casaubon, who eventually does the right thing and drops dead in time for Dorothea to reignite a flame with a young man named Will – who really does need a steadying hand.

The other main lead is Tertius Lydgate a doctor at that stage of his career where he can still afford idealism.

Plain women he regarded as he did other severe facts of life, to be faced with philosophy and investigated by science. 

(Gibbon may not have disowned that.)  Lydgate marries the mayor’s daughter, Rosey Vincy.  Her dad was in trade, and her flightiness leads to her being unable to cut her cloth as her husband faces the economic facts of life.  The resulting strain on Lydgate and the marriage is painfully etched in a way that seems a lot closer to home than we get with Jane Austen.  It has a nasty modern quotidian tang.

Another couple sees a strong woman take hold of a young man who prefigures our adult children now who refuse to grow up or move out.

Among the supporting characters is a banker named Bulstrode who has a past that comes back, as they tend to do in French novels, and who brings out the terminal judgmentalism of the small town.  The novel is subtitled A Study of Provincial Life, and it does look right across the range of that kind of life in a way that recalls Balzac rather than Austen.  There is no doubting the art of Jane Austen, but do those stylized comedies of manners offer the kickers you get with George Eliot?

I mentioned the following in a previous note – the frightful cleric, Mr Casaubon, marries the belle of the village, to the disgust of at least one admirer (Will, the ultimate husband).

But the idea of this dried up pedant, this elaborator of small explanations about as important as the surplus stock of false antiquities kept in a vendor’s back chamber, having first got this adorable young creature to marry him, and then passing his honeymoon away from her, groping after his mouldy futilities….this sudden picture stirred him with a sort of comic disgust: he was divided between the impulse to laugh aloud and the equally unseasonable impulse to burst into scornful invective.

Here are some other examples of why this book, although very long, can be sustained in a way that you do not get with Proust.

Indeed, she [Mrs Waule] herself was accustomed to think that entire freedom from the necessity of behaving agreeably was included in the almighty’s intentions about families.

For my part [the author’s] I have some fellow feeling with Dr. Sprague: one’s self-satisfaction is an untaxed kind of property which it is very unpleasant to find depreciated.

‘Yes’, said Mr Casaubon, with that peculiar pitch of voice which makes half the world seem a negative.

Flirtation, after all, was not necessarily a singeing process.

As to Captain Lydgate [the brother of the doctor] himself, his low brow, his aquiline nose bent on one side, and his rather heavy utterance, might have been disadvantageous in any young gentleman who had not a military bearing and moustache to give him what is doated by some flower-like blond heads as ‘style’.

Yes, that is alarmingly modern and might prompt a note from the Sisters.  But our author  makes amends.

Will Ladislaw [the real beau of Dorothea] was in one of those tangled crises which are commoner in experience than one might imagine, from the shallow absoluteness of men’s judgments.

This beautifully composed novel ends this way:

But the effect of her [Dorothea’s] being on those around her was incalculably diffusive; for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.

That breadth of mind and warmth of vision used to be called humanist.