POSTSCRIPT: A QUESTION FOR SCHEDULERS
Since News editors feel they must feed viewers the daily gruel of "the" Business and "the" Sport - mostly any old thing they've dredged up, stories which are mind-altering in their elevation of the banal and irrelevant to headline material, perhaps they could find a slot for the Planet?
After all, if you think you can turn stock market movements into edge-of-the-seat stuff, why not try your hand at raising interest in the end of the world?
Here is today's News.
George Monbiot: the apocalypse, with sources
Climate Change Coming Home: The Guardian
To The End Of The Earth
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
WAKE UP CALL
I can't compose today. I feel too upset and actually disturbed about the unfolding events in Ghana and the rest of Africa, which was the main item on the BBC World Service news on Saturday. It's heightened by the fact I used to live there. Global warming is coming home, to stay. My friends and I *all* knew this was going to happen as long ago as 1987. Some dolphin crisis (as I remember) brought the Environment to the attention of the wider public and the Greens got 15% in the next UK European election.
Books were published. Artists caught on: "India under water, Africa - walking, What a scene of confusion, and the seas rising" - Julian Cope, Give Me Back My Flag, 1992. Climate change was in the new National Curriculum in 1992. And the kids sent their paper leaves with their thoughts on to the Rio Earth Summit. Hopes were high.
I kept saying over and over that the impending crisis ought to be on all the front pages and in all TV News bulletins every day. Of course, the media let us down, and they are still doing so. What's on CNN today? Interest rates and, just like in 1995, O.J. fucking Simpson! They haven't even run the Africa story yet; probably because the journalists can't or won't get into the disaster zones to take pictures.
Most Ghanaians are deeply religious, open-hearted, resilient people. It's another "land of smiles". Against all the odds, they persevere in their steady faith and optimism. And they have an engaging sense of humour and of the absurd: they know the odds are stacked against them. And now the fields lie flooded, and hundreds of thousands are displaced, their rickety mud and straw huts washed away. The outlook is bleaker - food shortages because of the drowned crops; increased occurrence of malaria; cholera; even locusts, to make it truly Biblical. (To echo John Humphrys, where was God?)
BBC NEWS: Africans' responses
We all let them down. But most of all, the politicians, who should have known much better, let them down. For twenty years they have soldiered on in the vain pursuit of economic growth at all costs - full steam ahead. And if that were not enough, they planned wars to guarantee that precious oil supply, which unsettled the whole Middle East. Ignoring the Environment and huge disparities of wealth, they are directly to blame for the "Terror" we hear so much about now. How different things might have been if they had thought to invest heavily in renewable energy in the 90s, or bring in "carbon credits", which I first heard about around the same time. Apart from Prince Charles, Al Gore's was the only prominent voice I heard promoting green issues, but even he did little at Kyoto and was strangely silent about the Big E during his Presidential bid in 2000, splitting the Green vote, and consequently losing California. And we all know what happened next. Cheers for the great movie, Al - I've almost forgiven you.
In December, these politicians are assembling for yet another expenses-paid international talking shop. This time they had better act and bring in some of those mythical "tough targets". Because if we fail to keep the temperature increase below 2 degrees, all Hell will break loose. Not just for the poor Africans, either - the security implications will threaten everyone's comfortable lifestyle.
We have a global village, and the internet is amazing. People in huge numbers support Green issues. And - shock! - would vote for them. I have that much faith left in people. And there's no dearth of ideas. People in the public eye only need to speak up. Imagine if we had a Green alternative to vote for, for example. How hard would it be for Brown, Cameron or any of those Presidential hopefuls to cobble that together? And CNN - How hard would it be to follow the BBC World Service's lead and "front" (or just run) the story, the one which is the underlying and compelling narrative of our times?
I can't compose today. I feel too upset and actually disturbed about the unfolding events in Ghana and the rest of Africa, which was the main item on the BBC World Service news on Saturday. It's heightened by the fact I used to live there. Global warming is coming home, to stay. My friends and I *all* knew this was going to happen as long ago as 1987. Some dolphin crisis (as I remember) brought the Environment to the attention of the wider public and the Greens got 15% in the next UK European election.
Books were published. Artists caught on: "India under water, Africa - walking, What a scene of confusion, and the seas rising" - Julian Cope, Give Me Back My Flag, 1992. Climate change was in the new National Curriculum in 1992. And the kids sent their paper leaves with their thoughts on to the Rio Earth Summit. Hopes were high.
I kept saying over and over that the impending crisis ought to be on all the front pages and in all TV News bulletins every day. Of course, the media let us down, and they are still doing so. What's on CNN today? Interest rates and, just like in 1995, O.J. fucking Simpson! They haven't even run the Africa story yet; probably because the journalists can't or won't get into the disaster zones to take pictures.
Most Ghanaians are deeply religious, open-hearted, resilient people. It's another "land of smiles". Against all the odds, they persevere in their steady faith and optimism. And they have an engaging sense of humour and of the absurd: they know the odds are stacked against them. And now the fields lie flooded, and hundreds of thousands are displaced, their rickety mud and straw huts washed away. The outlook is bleaker - food shortages because of the drowned crops; increased occurrence of malaria; cholera; even locusts, to make it truly Biblical. (To echo John Humphrys, where was God?)
BBC NEWS: Africans' responses
We all let them down. But most of all, the politicians, who should have known much better, let them down. For twenty years they have soldiered on in the vain pursuit of economic growth at all costs - full steam ahead. And if that were not enough, they planned wars to guarantee that precious oil supply, which unsettled the whole Middle East. Ignoring the Environment and huge disparities of wealth, they are directly to blame for the "Terror" we hear so much about now. How different things might have been if they had thought to invest heavily in renewable energy in the 90s, or bring in "carbon credits", which I first heard about around the same time. Apart from Prince Charles, Al Gore's was the only prominent voice I heard promoting green issues, but even he did little at Kyoto and was strangely silent about the Big E during his Presidential bid in 2000, splitting the Green vote, and consequently losing California. And we all know what happened next. Cheers for the great movie, Al - I've almost forgiven you.
In December, these politicians are assembling for yet another expenses-paid international talking shop. This time they had better act and bring in some of those mythical "tough targets". Because if we fail to keep the temperature increase below 2 degrees, all Hell will break loose. Not just for the poor Africans, either - the security implications will threaten everyone's comfortable lifestyle.
We have a global village, and the internet is amazing. People in huge numbers support Green issues. And - shock! - would vote for them. I have that much faith left in people. And there's no dearth of ideas. People in the public eye only need to speak up. Imagine if we had a Green alternative to vote for, for example. How hard would it be for Brown, Cameron or any of those Presidential hopefuls to cobble that together? And CNN - How hard would it be to follow the BBC World Service's lead and "front" (or just run) the story, the one which is the underlying and compelling narrative of our times?
Sunday, September 02, 2007
SOME TIME IN TIMISOARA
I arrived in Timisoara thinking it would be more or less a den of thieves, and worried about being conspicuously Western (even though my three years in Budapest ought to mean I've become "Central") and the rickety railway station, with a few down-on-their-luck-looking characters hanging about, confirmed my prejudice that I was now in the Wild East.
Admittedly, the train journey wasn't fun, as I had to fight a particularly grumpy Hungarian woman for the privilege to open the window, which she immediately closed, then, seeing I wasn't about to give way, proceeded to scowl and sigh about, casting exasperated glances to win support from our fellow compartmentees. They all looked sullen and ugly - probably I did too - and I'd been warned not too fall asleep in case I lost all my belongings. But doze off I - inevitably - did. Luckily, all my stuff was present and correct on waking. The countyside as you cross the border is particularly grim-looking; a chemical pipeling, miles long with the lagging peeling away goes right through people's gardens below head height. You notice that all the buildings are either depressing blocks with the paint peeling, or else industrial plants.
So much for (what I saw of) the countryside. Timosoara is different altogether. In the centre are impressive squares, the prettiest of which is cobbled and surrounded by the usual kind of Imperial buildings in the style of Christmas cards, with geometric arched facades painted in pastel colours, and high-angled rooftops. Many are in a state of advanced decrepitude, some still cratered by war, but the elegance stubbornly remains. Much of the square itself is now shaded by the parasols of terrace cafes. Here, the waitresses carefully squirt dilute blue detergent on to the paper tissue placed in each ash tray.
What surprised me the most was the amount of wealth here. Of course, leaving the centre, there are the usual Communist blocks which a few of the owners have beautified with flowers on the balconies. (Flowers are really popular here - a large section of the central market is given over to dozens of flower stalls.) Just beyond, it was easy to locate the enormous Julius Mall, which dwarfs the buildings around it. With four floors, it's the biggest I've seen, a mall-as-city on an American scale. And it's busy. People are drinking beer and coffee (at inflated prices) in the perimeter cafes, and the car park is full of cars. While I drank my beer, four wedding parties went in - is there a registry office in there, perhaps, or are they just topping up on flowers? The cutomers are mostly loaded with the expected plastic bags, and everyone is sporting sunglasses and clothes in the latest styles (long shorts, short tops, etc) - including the children. It doesn't look like a poor country from where I'm sitting.
A final mystery is the rich Roma families. No one quite knows how they get their money. I was told "don't ask", but I did, and the stories you get are uniformly nasty - it's begging, at best, or selling their children in the West. Well, I once saw a Roma woman in Budapest doing the hard-sell with pairs of socks in Budapest - this wouldn't be enough to fund the kind of palaces these families are building near my school. These are ostentatious, in the very grandest of styles - conical pinnacles of towers, balconies with pillars, often roughly finished. They're similar to the Western mock-gothic, except with a definite Oriental twist that makes me think of the Arabian Nights and the Golden Horde. (My architectural vocabulary isn't wide enough to do them justice; I'd call them "Sultanic".) Everyone says they're tasteless, but the cones and pinnacles aren't so different to my eyes from those of the magnificent Orthodox cathedral in the town centre.
Some of these buildings could fuel urban vampre fantasies. I bought a bottle of Transylvanian "V" wine. With a drop of blood dripping from the logo, it boasted the fact that it was made from the "grapes of immortality". In small print underneath, it turned out that V drinks are a company from that well-known haunt of the undead, Cardiff!
I arrived in Timisoara thinking it would be more or less a den of thieves, and worried about being conspicuously Western (even though my three years in Budapest ought to mean I've become "Central") and the rickety railway station, with a few down-on-their-luck-looking characters hanging about, confirmed my prejudice that I was now in the Wild East.
Admittedly, the train journey wasn't fun, as I had to fight a particularly grumpy Hungarian woman for the privilege to open the window, which she immediately closed, then, seeing I wasn't about to give way, proceeded to scowl and sigh about, casting exasperated glances to win support from our fellow compartmentees. They all looked sullen and ugly - probably I did too - and I'd been warned not too fall asleep in case I lost all my belongings. But doze off I - inevitably - did. Luckily, all my stuff was present and correct on waking. The countyside as you cross the border is particularly grim-looking; a chemical pipeling, miles long with the lagging peeling away goes right through people's gardens below head height. You notice that all the buildings are either depressing blocks with the paint peeling, or else industrial plants.
So much for (what I saw of) the countryside. Timosoara is different altogether. In the centre are impressive squares, the prettiest of which is cobbled and surrounded by the usual kind of Imperial buildings in the style of Christmas cards, with geometric arched facades painted in pastel colours, and high-angled rooftops. Many are in a state of advanced decrepitude, some still cratered by war, but the elegance stubbornly remains. Much of the square itself is now shaded by the parasols of terrace cafes. Here, the waitresses carefully squirt dilute blue detergent on to the paper tissue placed in each ash tray.
What surprised me the most was the amount of wealth here. Of course, leaving the centre, there are the usual Communist blocks which a few of the owners have beautified with flowers on the balconies. (Flowers are really popular here - a large section of the central market is given over to dozens of flower stalls.) Just beyond, it was easy to locate the enormous Julius Mall, which dwarfs the buildings around it. With four floors, it's the biggest I've seen, a mall-as-city on an American scale. And it's busy. People are drinking beer and coffee (at inflated prices) in the perimeter cafes, and the car park is full of cars. While I drank my beer, four wedding parties went in - is there a registry office in there, perhaps, or are they just topping up on flowers? The cutomers are mostly loaded with the expected plastic bags, and everyone is sporting sunglasses and clothes in the latest styles (long shorts, short tops, etc) - including the children. It doesn't look like a poor country from where I'm sitting.
A final mystery is the rich Roma families. No one quite knows how they get their money. I was told "don't ask", but I did, and the stories you get are uniformly nasty - it's begging, at best, or selling their children in the West. Well, I once saw a Roma woman in Budapest doing the hard-sell with pairs of socks in Budapest - this wouldn't be enough to fund the kind of palaces these families are building near my school. These are ostentatious, in the very grandest of styles - conical pinnacles of towers, balconies with pillars, often roughly finished. They're similar to the Western mock-gothic, except with a definite Oriental twist that makes me think of the Arabian Nights and the Golden Horde. (My architectural vocabulary isn't wide enough to do them justice; I'd call them "Sultanic".) Everyone says they're tasteless, but the cones and pinnacles aren't so different to my eyes from those of the magnificent Orthodox cathedral in the town centre.
Some of these buildings could fuel urban vampre fantasies. I bought a bottle of Transylvanian "V" wine. With a drop of blood dripping from the logo, it boasted the fact that it was made from the "grapes of immortality". In small print underneath, it turned out that V drinks are a company from that well-known haunt of the undead, Cardiff!
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