Britain has offered us a peculiar way of coping with modernity. Because it was an Island, Britain managed to reconcile modernity with tradition in a very implosive way. When the Stuarts were restored, the only way of avoiding a Revolution was to decree libertinage at a national scale, as the plays of Wicherley depict. This added to the bloodshed of Cromwell times, made up of Britain the home of hipocrisy, the cult of Terror and a dislexya we admired as "very british", until we found out it was raw pragmatism and we were on the way.
The speech of Tony/Chery Blair yesterday was but an example. As if he was standing in a Theme-Park, Blair is said to have wooed Syria an Iran. It is not true. He receeded to the bastion waving the american flag, his most valued asset. He flags now the "Whole Middle East', instead of the "Grand' Middle East, but, in the end, everything boils down to the Middle-East. So many grand designs, the demagoguery of fixing the clock's mechanism in History and, after all, the Middle-East is very simple, as he stated. Yes, it is. Instead of a brawl every day in Gaza, we have a carnage, every hour, in Iraq. Long after the lies have been unveiled, their soundtrack reverberates as an echo.
These Chery-Blairs should be hold responsible and also denazifyed, on how their demagoguery in buying the Trade-Unions' leaders with good standards of living would inevitably push Britain to a colonial adventure. It was written by marxists such as Immanuel Wallerstein that they should do that or die with Communism, so, they should pantomine they were capitalists. And they did it so well that they went as far as pretending to be imperialists so that there could be a role to social climbers when the world was ebbing back again to the Nation-State. The conservatives let him play, as following the principle: if you cannot do it yourself, let other do it for you. They're also full of social climbers.
But Blair was not a liar. He was just a gypsy seller. He wanted, really to keep the establishment of Labour and their priviliged ones. The only virtue of a socialist is the one of obbeying the doctrine. And Blair did it. Behind, Chery Blair kept her biological plan: motherhood and professional success. How useful is to be a judge in England when her boyish husband is juggling with handgrenades and their best-man, Peter Mandelson cannot even live his own gaiety in a world which is returning to the traditional ways! Yes, a determined social climber may even use a boy as prime-Minister, to care only about her own, egoistical interests. How Britain managed to produce this Chery Blair was not Hipocrisy but the Rocky Horror Show.
2 comments:
Funny how this analyst reduces Blair´s ascension and the consequent destinies of Britain to straight social climberism. This light hearted aproach has its merits indeed, but eludes other forces behind the scene.
And there are a lot of them pushing and pulling the car according to their whims. That is to say that Blair is just a puppet. It´s reasonable that he gets his due, and gets some social-declimbing treatment. But that is a subsidiary aspect, an epiphenonemon.
British magnates play both hands. They support who´s most convenient for them at a given moment. Then they discard him, olimpically. Endless pragmatism, even ruthless to the point of deshumanization, has been our seal and stamp for centuries.The writer seems transmogrified by Britain consenting or producing people such as Chery. Well, that is just a rethorical surprise. Britain has already produced everything from Jack the Ripper to apple pie. And I'm not so sure that Nations are platonic archetypes. I don´t think so since most nations despite a wagnerian chorus of claims for their eternity (and also for their being chosen by the Lord)as a matter of fact are quite recent. And as the earth, geologically speaking, changes, so nations do. None is eternal, none is an archetype. So to shine on the magnetophones about "Britain" or Cocaigne is to add sophism to fallacy.
Best regards,
John de Vere
John de Vere,
Thank you for your magnificent comment which really enriches this humble blog. I took one day to respond but I just have to follow my heart, the place where old Egypt thought the Mind had always dwellt: Nations change and they are recent. Nations are mythical. We even think of them better when they are not ours. When it comes to ours, we just have to suffer them ( I guess the more we know, the more we suffer, and we just begin to forgive more because we're dying in pain as knowing, like a mirror cracking to reflect the light of a thousand stars). I know "Nation" is full of arrogance but it was, once, the referral of a Kind betrayed by Kings and so-called Aristocrats. Then, "Nation" became "People" and something more. I know that England is also one of my Heart's referentials, be it Albert of Wessex resisting to the Vikings down to misery and madness, Robin Hood and Little John, both hanging half-mad in the bushes for a King who didn't come, Thomas Morus who didn't deny, all the love for mankind of Shakespeare, the courage of the Sufragettes, the mad fascists of Mosley who ended up diying as volunteers in the mad squads of the RAF, or the volunteers who went to die in Spain, be it under a bandera or in an international Brigade, and the mad voice of Churchill offering to his people just pain and tears, because the Battle of England was the mother of all battles, the one which is never won. And if England is not enough, sing me a welsh tune, in front of the wild, wild sea or play me a scotish pipe, high on the mountain of suffering, as a face where tears dried over. Besides the tectonics, either slow, or sudden, of Nations, there is this tectonics of Hearts, which makes everything so complicated.
This said, Blair, despite all we have to forgive in just one more human being, strangled us with this simplicity: Saddam has WMD, let's invade Iraq.I forgive him but this is so complicated: besides the physical pain it always remains sensibility enough, to go naked and beaten up as a motherless child.
So, do not invade the Nation of the Heart. I would be like fighting with the wind.
Globetrotter
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