Racism - not just about black and white on the Rock

Speaking of star power, we were talking in a seminar the other day about why Hitler didn't capitalise on his own in 1940 to launch the invasion of Britain.

He'd just relentelessly mowed through Europe, on such a roll that the French sealed their own humiliation by practically handing Paris to him on a silver platter. The British had only begun to think the Germans might actually mean business a year or so before, and the Americans hadn't upped their production capabilities yet - i.e. there was no fleet of shiny American-made Spitfires at hand for the British to buy and turn on the Germans. And the German people themselves, while still a little dazed and confused about what they had actually done by giving this man power - and certainly not pro-war - were buoyed by the prospect of a quick and powerful knockout punch to Britain. The end was in sight.

But Hitler hesitated, for a whole month and a half. By the time he finally started attacking from the air, the British had rallied. The invasion was delayed, and delayed, and finally H turned his sights on Russia and the eastern front, and the full scale invasion of the United Kingdom never came about as planned.

So why did he hesitate?

We were throwing out theories left, right and centre - well, the rest of the people in my class were, I was busy making mental notes to Google phrases like "battle of Britain" and trying to remember who Goring was (the handicap of attempting a history Masters' while never having studied history before continues). Anyway a discussion was raging around me, and then our prof finally stepped in to offer his own theory.

Even though so much of WWII was anchored on issues of race, people rarely take that issue into account when debating what happened, he argued. The fact was that Europe itself was divided into three different races. This caught my attention immediately - clearly growing up in a culture where "race" is defined solely by "white" and "black" had conditioned me, for as soon as he said it, I thought: "But Europe is practically all white, what's he talking about?"

The three different races were the Anglo-Saxons - that is, the Aryan race, the Latin people, and the Slavs. He argued that Hitler, naturally, viewed Germans at the top of the totem pole, and had seen no problems with enslaving all the Slavic countries and rolling right over France, a Latin country. (And murdering all the Jews he could find, of course.) The problem was that with France under German occupation, the war had been reduced to a war between Britain and Germany - that is, roughly, an Anglo-Saxon war. That Hitler may have seen it as cousins fighting cousins - Aryans against Anglos. Suddenly an unnatural war. That he truly and honestly thought Churchill would also understand this, and would come around and accept peace. On Hitler's terms of course.

And so he hesitated, giving Churchill time to see the light. Clearly ol' Winston had other things in mind.

The point is, however, that even though I had always thought of Europe as one race - white - the argument did (and presumably still does) exist that Latin and Anglo-Saxon are two different races. Something which for some reason had never occurred to me.

The next day I had lunch with two Bermudian friends, and in discussing home we somehow boarded the subject of how Bermuda classifies Portuguese people as "Other". Black, white, or Other. I wasn't in thinking mode and the seminar of the day before had clearly left my mind already, so we all joked and laughed about how silly that seemed, to classify Portuguese as something different from white when clearly, since neither are black, they must both be the same. "We must be the only country in the world that does that," one friend said.

That afternoon, in another seminar, we were discussing English colonial rule in Africa, comparing it to French and Portuguese colonial rule. One quote jumped out at me: that the English colonial administrators wanted to be nothing like the "oily woily Portuguese". Suddenly, the penny dropped.

Clearly there is a severe race issue between blacks and whites in Bermuda that we are all focusing on and that will hopefully be resolved within a generation. Because of the sheer population numbers involved, that should definitely be a priority.

But to what extent is race a problem between Bermuda's Latin population and its whites and blacks? Do Bermudians (both black and white) view the Portuguese population as inferior? (Do we have a common bond in our views on the third significant chunk of Bermuda's population?) How much of a problem is this right now and what, if anything, should be done about it?

"Who's driving this clattering train?"

My spidey sense is telling me the PLP are afraid of Gina Spence-Farmer.

I think I would be too. She could do it. Could the UBP actually be uniting? Or am I reading too much into it? Get Gina out there talking on the issues - done, she's in the Senate. Now, force a by-election somewhere, preferably in a UBP stronghold, get her into the House as an elected representative of the people - now she can do some real damage. Now, all of a sudden, she could become leader of the party.

Could.

If all that were to happen - and to happen before the next election, which if P really wants to spin out this Independence debate won't be happening until it absolutely has to - the scene could shift very, very quickly.

She's new to politics, so people aren't sick and tired and disillusioned with her yet. However she's not some unknown, people know who she is and what she stands for. She appears to have a generation of young people on her side - college students who may have been too young to vote in the last election but will be voting in the next one. I don't know how they feel about her within the party, but there appears to be no one else they will rally behind - no one has been able to get the required support to challenge Grant Gibbons for the leadership. (Yet.) Maybe Grant's pushing her now - maybe he doesn't want to leave (ok, he doesn't want to leave), but, maybe, being an intelligent man, he sees that the writing is on the wall, and is determined to at least depart on his own terms. (It's incredible how it all swings on something as seemingly inconsequential as charisma. The battle of the Davids for the Tory leadership is the perfect example. Has star power always been such a potent political force or is this just another symptom of our mass media age?)

Back to them byes. Who else could there be? Christian Dunleavey called the Wayne Furbert suggestion. It is weird that Furbert should be named a deputy leader along with Dunkley two years ago - and still be referred to as deputy up until July of this year - and then Jon Brunson be named a deputy with Dunkley just weeks ago with no mention of what happened to Furbert's role. If they've been asked about that yet I haven't seen it.

Then there's the triumvirate of Barritt, Dunkley and Dodwell - all of whom could do it and do it well. They're dedicated, they're passionate, they're determined, they've got the experience, and so on and so forth (I know what certain people out there are thinking - to them I say, aw shuddup already).

The problem is, they've all been around for so long, (oh yeah and they're all white and rich - seems to work for US presidents and, oddly, wannabe Tory leaders, but definitely a handicap in Bermuda politics). Everyone seems to be so tired of both the PLP and the UBP Old Guard (apparently even the PLP is tired of its Old Guard - how quickly loyalty dissolves on both sides once the bonds are cut) that it would be hard to get excited about any of them. Gina could rally that excitement.

Unfortunately, she'd also be suffering from Ashfield-syndrome. I strongly doubt that a woman who's been in politics for such a short time, who hasn't even served time as a backbencher or in a Shadow Cabinet, who is completely and totally untried, could reasonably be catapulted to the very top position inside of three years.

But it's a watch-this-space thought. Maybe the next election is a tad soon, but there's always the one after that. Who knows.

In the meantime, on a slight tangent, I'm sure that reading Shirer's Berlin Diary for hours and then reading the news from home immediately afterwards was probably too potent a cocktail for the old imagination. Simmer down, there, Sarah. This is most certainly not the Third Reich, even if the rhetoric does seem to be ... well, echoing.

It all does raise a few questions though. Someone is driving the train. Is it the Premier? Does he wield that kind of star power? Or is it someone else?

Back to paganism - or, better yet, atheism!

So, there's those who claim Independence for Bermuda is the symbolic casting off of the last shackles of slavery.

Unfortunately for that argument, slavery existed in Africa long before the Europeans ever arrived. Not only did the Arabs have a fruitful little business going enslaving Africans from around 600 A.D. on, Africans themselves were enslaving Africans when the Europeans arrived - and both Africans and Arabs may well have continued merrily on their caravanning way were it not for the arrival of Europeans like David Livingstone, who was horrified at what was going on and dedicated much of his well-publicised life to speaking out against it.

This is most definitely not a defence of imperialism. Those white people definitely were arrogant and badly behaved, and the effects are still wreaking havoc, in the East as well as Africa. But freedom from slavery as justification for breaking away from Britain - when placed in the historical context - doesn't appear to make much sense.

Ignoring that detail for now, however, I take issue with the use of the word "last".

Because while those repressed British were running around shooting elephants, spreading white European models of government in countries that did not want it, and - according to several of the books I've come across lately - spreading rampant VD everywhere they went (Randy Andy indeed), they were also imposing one more thing on every country they colonised: Christianity.

Well, VD we can control now, so that doesn't necessarily have to be a problem anymore (safe sex people!). Again, ignoring minor historical details, we can go Independent and say that's another symbolic stand against slavery. But that's not the last shackle.

So what, in a country with one of the highest concentrations of churches in the world, where a vocal minority appear to be demanding sovereignty as part of the continuing civil rights movement, are they planning on doing about Christianity?

That is, if the goal is to cast off slave shackles and Independence is one way of doing it, shouldn't Christianity therefore be cast off too?

The prince! Is marrying the sea witch! In disguise!

Wow, Becca. Way to introduce me to yet ANOTHER Sad Song.

First it was Rufus Wainwright's Hallelujah, off the Shrek soundtrack. I wonder how many hours we managed to waste in good ol' Conde y Elcano listening to that song on repeat and "philosophising" about the nature of love and Malbec (and having Special Bed epiphanies about the "only thing I learned from love" line). (To everyone else, that sounded really sketchy but it honestly wasn't. Honestly.)

Then there's Daniel Beddingfield's The One, which was an important Hangover Sundays installment back on the Rock - Shakira's No, which took up entirely too much time in Gallegos - Sarah McLachlan, who I often discovered certain roomates sobbing noisily too after traumatic boyfriend incidents such as him neglecting to say "I love you" on hanging up the phone (what a jerk) - I even seem to remember a KCi and JoJo song that would actually reduce certain people to tears in Trinity before the opening chords were even completed. (Wow. Girls really are crazy.)

And now, thanks to Becca, it's James Blunt - Goodbye My Lover. Way to tell me about that one so that I downloaded it and now can't stop listening to it while playing Solitaire and trying to stop myself from charging to Tesco's with my laundry bag and buying all the chocolate they have in the store. (That's what the laundry bag is for. To put all the chocolate into, instead of wasting tons of plastic bags. Climate change is going to be The Challenge of the 21st century, you know. That's what Paul's argument regarding America as an international outlaw basically was: America sucks but hey, everyone, we're all going to melt and the earth is going to implode if we don't do something about climate change soon. It might even be too late already, but reduce, reuse, recycle anyway!)

The point being, James Blunt is sapping all my desire to complete my essay on whether or not the Iranian Revolution was truly Islamic or not (what does it matter when his lover is going?? What happened to his lover anyway? I don't understand, is she leaving him? But doesn't she love him anymore? Did he disappoint her? Why would she leave him when he clearly loves her so much? Is love just not enough? Must I listen to it again and again and again until I understand these mysteries? And isn't the "You have been the one for me" line the saddest ever - imagine saying that to someone! I mean, we still have The One took look forward to - imagine saying goodbye forever to The One, and knowing that there's no more Ones to look forward to, cuz of course if there were then The One wouldn't have been The One! And, worst of all, that it could be your fault that you are saying goodbye to The One! What a leftover life that would be!)

Yeesh. Good one, Becca. Here's to the Year of the Faith. A little Islamic fundamentalism is a nice cheerful alternative to James Blunt. Now, off to download Disney's Under the Sea ("yeah we in luck here, down in the muck here!").

Well, drastic times call for drastic measures.

Swallow those words, Sars

Ok I take back some of my earlier criticism of the Gazette for not jumping all over the Premier/Tony Brannon email debacle - because I had a prime opportunity to ask Mr. Scott all those questions myself on Friday night and I did not. I have my reasons for not doing so and I stand by them, but maybe the Gazette had their reasons too, so I'll just shut up now!

All that being said, it felt good to be back in the game - however briefly. This is the interesting thing about doing a Masters vs doing an undergrad degree. During those glorious English major days at Queen's I still had no idea what I wanted to do, where I wanted to be, who I wanted to be - and so, for lack of any other direction, everything was tailored around fitting the programme. The goal was to be a great English major. I tried to shape myself around that.

Now, knowing what I want to do and who I want to be (the "where" is still up in the air), I find that instead of trying to make myself into the perfect historian/IR student, I am instead shaping the programme to fit me. Taking out of it what I know I want. I'm the boss, baby.

It's a pretty empowering feeling.

Of course, as my dear mother and I noted yesterday, that's all very well and good but failing the degree itself after spending all my time doing other things isn't exactly conducive to the cause. So Paul's reply to Bill's points - as well as an update on this weekend, which may well have been the most surreal one I've ever spent (just cannot believe how lucky we all are) - will just have to wait!

Be afraid - be very afraid

To prove to myself that I didn't give up Plea Court for nothing I actually took advantage of one of the infamous LSE evening lectures/debates the other night: American power - global sheriff or international outlaw?

Unsurprisingly the crowd was almost entirely made up of Masters and PhD candidates - the undergrads were all drinking somewhere cool like the Three Tuns, I'm sure. The speakers were Professor William Wohlforth from good ol' Dartmouth College (I miss Vermont!) and Professor Paul Rogers from the University of Bradford. They didn't disappoint.

Prof. Bill went first, cheerfully noting that he hadn't been called to debate at the LSE when the States was saving asses in Kosovo and places like that - but now that Iraq had turned into such a debacle, here he was. ("Well, I am European," quipped the moderator who had invited him.)

Bill made his points simply. First, he declared, the US is not an international outlaw. (Booyah.) Of the treaties they sign, they stick to them. Sure, you can bring up Kyoto and other issues, but if the US didn't sign them and you wanted them to, that means you have political differences with US foreign policy - not that the US is an outlaw. As for ignoring the Geneva conventions regarding prisoners in the war on terror, well, does the Geneva convention really apply here or is it out of date? It was set up regarding prisoners with a state - not to tackle terrorists. There's a debate on international law there, he said, but you'd have to debate that, not whether or not the US is an outlaw. International law is too ambiguous on that point for anyone to pass any judgements.

Second, the US is indeed a sheriff. Well, sorta. And that's not because they are always acting alone - after all, he said, with the exception of Iraq the US has been acting in concert with members of the international community. He set aside background interventions such as working to make Japan feel more secure so they won't get all nervous and start racing China to create nuclear weapons, saying everyone's concerned about the front and centre interventions, military interventions. In fact they are merely part of a growing trend towards increasing international intervention aimed at preventing wars, genocides, and all that other bad stuff.

So this arrangement, he said, citing all those other conflicts that I can't remember right now, is imperfect - but a success. Ignoring Iraq. (As Iraq is quite a significant blunder I thought this was taking just a bit of leeway, but whatever.) Citing a report that's just been released whose name I can't remember now, he noted that violence in the world is actually well down - a fact that doesn't get a whole lot of press. This is because of the end of the Cold War (in which the US played a part), as well as the spread of democracy (in which the US also played a part) and, importantly, becaue of a decrease in civil wars and genocides. The most important reason for THAT decrease is because of - you guessed it - international interventions - often led or supported by the US. So Iraq, yeah, sure - but let's not detract from the big picture here. The US is a part time global sheriff.

(This is the part in the press conference when I'd be tempted to stop writing until the spining is over and wait for the speaker to get back to the issue at hand, but anyway. I guess he's got a point regarding the last ten years. But is that relevant anymore or has Iraq changed everything?)

Anyway - next Bill went on to look at the alternatives. Ok, maybe the world is concerned about a renegade super power, but what other options are there? Multi-polarity - a sharing of the sheriff duties between the great powers? No can do. First of all, no one can match the US. (God bless America.) Second of all, no one else is really trying. Everyone else's defence spending is either holding steady or decreasing, the US is the only one who's pouring money into defence. Why? Because the US isn't threatening their place in the world. They may be unhappy enough to grumble, not but unhappy enough to spend the money to do something about it.

Even if countries were spending the money to form a committee of great powers - countries such as China, Russia, Japan, India - would that system be more efficient or just? "I don't think so," Bill commented. (Is that American arrogant moral superiority, or does he have a point?)

Plus, Bill added, if everyone else starts building up their defences, we'll all end up scaring each other into our own arms races - and then everyone really will be worse off. Cold War all over again. (Yeah, we don't want that really.)

So, with all this evidence, why are we even asking the question, he wondered. It's been sparked by the Bush administration's brief flirtation with neo-conservatism: let's democratise the world. This phase, Bill declares, is over. The US electorate may be more conservative than Europe but it's not stupid - when a president makes a massive strategic blunder, they make him pay. Even the Republicans are running like crazy - no one wants to inherit this foreign policy legacy as the next president. The sheriff is learning. (Poor Dubya.)

So this entire debate is ironic. It's been brought about by Iraq, the very issue which is pushing the US away from that extreme position of 2003.

More on Paul's reply after I actually do some work ...

Bumbling among the wolds

Our first stop in the Cotswolds was at Blenheim Palace, where I got some great interior decorating ideas for my own little shack-in-the-sky, and we all learned lots about Winston Churchill. After seeing where he basically grew up, and hearing about his ancestor the nth Duke of Marlborough who also basically saved Europe in the Battle of Blenheim, you kinda got the feeling that the man with the cigar's "sense of destiny" wasn't that arbitrary after all. I'd be pretty sure that I was destined for great things too if I got to spend my summers in a house the size of a Fairmont hotel, with a yard the size of Bermuda, complete with massive phallic monument to my Europe-saving ancestor erected by a grateful Queen Anne.

Just like that, however, I became not only a Churchill fanatic - am searching for a good biography on him now (it's possible there may be one or two on my Crisis Decision Making reading list, but I haven't looked at that lately) - but also a Royals fanatic. Apparently Prince William is only the second Royal to ever go to a university. Or wait, perhaps he was the first royal to ever go to a university, and some cousin of his who's going to the States this year is the second. Something like that. Either way, Prince William's chances with me are looking up (first in his family to go to college shows some dedication and strength of character, both attributes which I find most commendable). The HSBC connections are supposed to be on the case for me - first chance to sing my praises when bumping into young Will at the water cooler and they will do so.

But a watched pot never boils, so on with our story. We left Blenheim to bumble along the country roads to the Rollright Stones. The Rollright Stones are to Stonehenge as the Cotswolds are to the Andes - just little fellas, but no less intriguing. In fact, once we realised we could borrow Dowsing Rods and check out the wild energy all around the stones themselves, they turned positively fascinating. What kind of energy were the rods measuring? How were they spinning all around like that? What would a Ouija board do in here? What did it all mean? Wouldn't Granny have freaked out if she could've seen them?

A little more bumbling, some rest and relaxation in the "dollhouse" - as their cottage was affectionately nicknamed - and we found ourselves having dinner in a restaurant called 947 A.D. It's called 947 A.D. because that's what date the inn itself was built. Yes, 947 A.D. As in well over a thousand years ago. Oh, and it's been an inn ever since then. It blew my mind. The dinner itself was in the Dinner Club league, as was the conversation. Afterwards we took a pedestrian bumble all around the silent town - completely deserted at just ten p.m. thanks to the gypsys.

Oh yes. The gypsys. Los gitanos. Sorry, apparently we're supposed to call them "the travellers" now. Having just completed "Los cinco en la caravana" a few short weeks earlier I was thrilled to see the few quaint horse-drawn caravans painted green and gold and scattered in about the modern RVs and campers piled onto the field at the bottom of the town. Word on the street is, there's some 13th century charter which allows the travellers to descend on the town every year to hold a horse fair and trade horses. It seemed sketchy to me as so many were travelling by motor van these days and apparently not in need of horses, but there you have it. The villagers, on the other hand, were not as charmed as me - to put it lightly. I'm expecting an out and out revolt within the next 3-5 years.

The next day, after sleeping in to an alarming hour, was spent exploring more of the village - including the infamous sheep runs/alleyways where the sheep would be forced to go one at a time, making them easier to count - and bumbling happily around the countryside in the car. We visited The Yellow Hat Tribe - my new favourite works of art. There we also saw ostriches from the ostrich farm (the relatives claim there are camels and llamas on the Cotswolds too, which must be quite the sight). We also clambered up to the Broadway tower, which was built especially so that the Earl of something-or-other could see it from his home 20 miles away. The things they did in the days before TV.

Standing on top of that hill, the highest of the wolds, looking at the English countryside spreading out before us in a slightly mystical, spooky haze, with the sharp smell of fresh earth in your nose and a bracing, cold breeze blowing through you, you could see two Englands: the dear little country England of villagers walking the commons, picking blackberries and picnicking with their thermoses of tea; and the ancient, wild England of the pagan Celtic days, with the mists of Avalon parting before you and wild calls and fire on the wind. For a second even London seemed young.

And so we bumbled on back towards Oxford. Can't stay in the Cotswolds drinking Argentine Syrrahs forever, you know. Some of us have a Master's to do here.

Oh yeah, that Master's degree

Must really get down to actually doing that.

It's been a great few weeks here in jolly England, with first one guest and then another, exploring the London club scene with the hilarious Investment Bankers/French Canadians, and watching at least one of the Infamous Canadians (class of 2003) tear up the town. This weekend we decided to really start getting back into the academic flow of things by attending Quiz Night in the bar on Friday (where the question on where Che Guevara was killed led to the question of where he was born and - honestly - the question of whether he was Cuban or Argentine. Where are you when I need you, TJL!). Feeling a little unsure on the wisdom of choosing to do what is technically a history degree after my performance on the history section, I was vastly reassured that the four years at Queen's wasn't a waste after being able to proclaim Becky Sharp as a character in Vanity Fair. Take that, Queen's Commerce! Unfortunately was so excited about getting the answer right that said it a bit too loudly, enabling all the teams around us to use our correct answer. But the bottle of wine we eventually won for coming in second place (as well as the steady stream of drinks that were being put on my card at the bar for the gang) managed to dull that pain.

That night then culminated in my Infamous Canadian getting hit on by two guys at once, in a brief history lesson on the meat market during the 1300s from the two favourite Investment Bankers, and in me meeting from the Largest White Man I Have Ever Seen - Marcus, who memory now paints as eight feet tall with paws like sandpapered boxing gloves, who was chowing down outside the place we'd stopped to get food. Fortunately I was rescued by one of the Investment Bankers (let's call him "Like Dan", or LD, for now). LD, I believe, told Marcus he was my brother. Marcus didn't seem to pick up on the discrepancy between this statement and LD's pronounced French Canadian accent, but I think he'd had a long day after all.

The next day, after a very successful bout of shopping on Portobello Road where Kari and I came away with definite bling but still lots of money in our wallets, the Investment Bankers took us under their wing again - what great guys. Of course, the undisputed favourite is my old Bermuda friend, who I shall call by his London alter ego "Dan" (as differentiated from Like Dan, or LD. LD is apparently just like Dan in certain aspects which I shall refrain from detailing now out of respect for the parents who still read this site.) Dan's the Best Ass. Ever, of course - the undisputed favourite - but the others certainly have their, um, attributes. LD can, for instance, moo any song you name - including the Ninth Symphony and Britney Spears' Toxic. Believe it. He's demonstrated. Moo. Meanwhile the one we'll call YAH is young at heart. That's "young at heart". If you mishear that statement at all in a crowded bar after a unhappily protracted dry season, keep it to yourself please.

After saying a very early morning goodbye to Kar the next day and sadly leaving her at the airport (yes, I am very destabilised now) I decided to go and actually meet new people - then said ah, screw it, and got on the bus to go stay with the Fam in the Cotswolds.

A wold, by the way, is a hill. The knowledge is just accumulating up here.