A deeper shade of blueTories are now drawing on a radical conservative past that foretold flaws in Thatcher's market dogmaAll comments () Phillip Blond The Guardian, Thursday August 21 2008 Article historyWhen economic paradigms shift, ideology follows. Just as the Keynesian model broke down in the 1970s and ushered in the rise of Thatcherism, so the present crisis of neoliberal economics is precipitating a philosophical change in the Conservative party. The Tories are now speaking of sharing the benefits of growth and wealth, and the need for markets to generate fair outcomes. Moreover, they are distancing themselves from the current socioeconomic settlement because they recognise that it produces inequality and reinforces class barriers. They know that the community culture they want to resurrect was not only destroyed by the socialist state, but by the capitalist market. Say it softly, but the Tories could be poised to finally break with Thatcherism and its winner-takes-all monopoly capitalism.
The small governing elite of the party feels that this is the right way to go, but they lack a final intellectual synthesis and they also fear antagonising Thatcherites, who still constitute a sizeable slice of the party and a majority of the branch activists. But the unprecedented crisis of the world economy precipitated by the debt-leveraged collapse of free-market extremism has given the Tories a real opportunity to develop. They should worry less and carry the logic of their own civic philosophy through to its conclusion, for it could produce a genuinely critical account of the crisis and an alternative to the left/right neoliberal fundamentalism of the last 30 years.
For instance, the crisis of contemporary capitalism results from the congruence and culmination of three dominant trends: centralisation, monopolisation and speculation. Despite rightwing ideological claims, unregulated capital does not diffuse equitably among all market participants. The centralisation of money and power is the foundation of monopoly, and the precondition for unrestrained speculation. Thus the Conservative critique of centralisation means an end of cartel domination and a limit to inappropriate speculation.
Accordingly, the much-derided new civic philosophy of conservatism is actually key to reversing all the malign consequences of the Thatcher-Blair years. A genuinely local economy requires not just freedom from the target-driven, ethos-destroying logic of the state, but also liberation from the corporate business model. Corporate norms have obliterated owner-occupiers of small businesses and have created clone towns where every high street is the same, or ghost towns where the economies of scale kill off local enterprises. A revived localism inspires a diverse ecology of agriculture, industry and innovation, and a renewed sense of regional identity, reversing an economic monoculture predicated on finance and the City.
There are signs, therefore, that this localism is becoming the fulcrum around which conservatism could change. One example is Cameron's frustration at Policy Exchange's recent report that, in a disturbing echo of the rightwing "mobility of labour" argument, called for the abandonment of northern cities for the job-rich south. Likewise, the Conservative campaign against post office closures and the "disappearing Britain" campaign to save local shops all suggest a new distaste for the homogenising consequences of neoliberalism. So much so that the Conservative research department is trying to develop new central metrics of social value for a future government that would bypass mere short-term economic calculation. The agenda can go further: Boris Johnson's endorsement of a living wage for Londoners, rather than a minimum one, should be universal. Cameron's espousal of a work-life balance and the support of personal, rather than state, childcare is an echo of an electorally popular value system.
However, the final articulation of a post-Thatcherite economics would require elements from the radical conservative past - where figures such as William Cobbett, Thomas Carlyle and John Ruskin argued for a working class self-sufficiency, or English Catholic writers such as GK Chesterton and Hilaire Belloc argued that only widely distributed ownership could resist the dispossession and destruction of rabid capitalism. George Osborne's recognition in these pages yesterday that the flawed nature of unfettered markets suggests that the Tories have made the distinction between the current monopoly settlement and genuinely free markets. With a new view of competition that ensures markets support a genuine plurality by upholding social consensus and an extension of assets and ownership for all, modern conservatism could finally turn its back on Margaret Thatcher.
· Phillip Blond is a senior lecturer in theology and philosophy at the University of Cumbria. He is currently writing Red Tory, a book on radical Conservatism
Thursday, 21 August 2008
Saturday, 9 August 2008
Beijing Olympics Celebrate The Capitalist Market And Nationalism
By John Chan
08 August, 2008
WSWS.org
Tonight's Olympic Games opening ceremony in Beijing has been carefully prepared by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) regime over the past seven years to showcase China's rise as a new economic power. Like previous Olympics, but only on a grander scale, the event is a lavish $US43 billion party, this time for China's new capitalist elite to celebrate their arrival on the world stage.
The ceremony has been timed to include as many "8s" as possible—8.08 p.m. on August 8, 2008—shamelessly reflecting the slogan of Chinese capitalism: "Get rich, get rich and get rich!" Not long after Deng Xiaoping initiated market reforms in 1978, the number "8" (pronounced "ba" in Chinese) became the lucky number for attaining wealth, due to its similar pronunciation to the Chinese word for prosperity ("fa"). The aim is not just to send a clear signal to the local capitalist elite but also to global corporate leaders: if you want to be rich, come to China—it is the place for investment and business opportunities.
Choosing the hot month of August, however, rather than moderate autumn months of September and October, means that authorities have to deal with heavy smog, which is particularly severe in summer. Despite draconian measures to stop the use of millions of cars, and the shutdown of factories in Beijing, blue sky can barely be seen. Rather than promoting China's international image, this simply reminds the world that China already has the title of the world's No. 1 emitter of carbon dioxides thanks to the unfettered operation of the capitalist market.
Amid the global economic fallout from the collapse of US subprime mortgage loans a year ago, the Beijing Olympics also provides a distracting event for the leaders of global capitalism to temporarily divert attention from economic slowdown, inflation and growing social discontent. No less than 80 world leaders, including US President George Bush and French President Nicolas Sarkozy, will attend the opening ceremony.
Their arrival has reportedly caused nightmares for Beijing air traffic authorities as many private jets carrying the chief executives of the world's most powerful corporations land at the same time. Like their political servants, the global CEOs are keen to share in China's economic success.
Indeed, China seems to be the only place where capitalism is still thriving. A massive fireworks show and spectacular opening ceremony, directed by well-known filmmaker Zhang Yimou, seek to showcase not just China's traditional culture, but the country's growing economic prowess. As shown on South Korean television, which leaked a rehearsal, one of the scenes showed many buildings springing up from scratch, demonstrating China's rapid expansion. From 1978 to 2007, China has grown 40-fold—taking it from a miserably poor country to the world's fourth largest economy.
The ultra-modern Olympic architecture, from the main "Bird Nest" stadium and the oval Grand State Theatre to the twisted CCTV headquarters in Beijing, all designed by leading international architects, aims to impress foreigners with China's striving for modernity and progress. The expansion of Beijing international airport is colossal. Its Terminal 3 alone is larger than the five terminals of London Heathrow combined.
Twelve multinational corporations have paid up to $US200 million each to become Olympic global sponsors in order to advertise their products to the 4 billion people around the world who are expected to watch the events. All up, the sponsorship totals $866 million, one third more than the 2004 Athens Games. This does not include the estimated advertising revenue of $1.5 billion by the global sponsors or the costs for partnerships paid by dozens of other multinational and Chinese corporations. Adidas alone has reportedly paid $80 million for using the Olympic logo for its products selling in China.
"One World, One Dream" is the slogan of the Beijing Olympics. But the feelings in Washington, Tokyo and the European capitals toward the rise of China are rather more complex. On the one hand, major corporations around the world now depend on the super-exploitation of the Chinese working class, the largest in the world. On the other, there is unease about China's rapid emergence as a new rival to the established powers in the struggle for raw materials, markets and geopolitical influence.
Despite Chinese President Hu Jintao's appeal not to politicise the Olympics, some Western leaders have raised Beijing's human rights record or its repressive rule in Tibet. Last week, President Bush received exiled leaders of the Chinese "democracy" movement in the White House. The US House of Representatives then passed a resolution almost unanimously demanding that China improve human rights.
Before his departure for the Olympics, Bush told Asian reporters in Washington that the US was committed to its allies in Asia, amid criticisms that the Iraq war had allowed China to increase its influence at the expense of the US. Warning Asian countries not to get too close to Beijing, Bush declared: "A lot of times, if you're friends with one, you make it hard to be friends with another." Before going to Beijing, Bush stopped at Bangkok and delivered a speech urging the Beijing regime to provide "freedom" to Chinese citizens.
A Chinese government spokesman, Liu Jianchao, branded the US Congress resolution an attempt to "sabotage" the Olympics, and said Bush "rudely interfered with China's internal affairs and sent a seriously wrong message to anti-China hostile forces." Behind this nationalist rhetoric, which is largely for domestic consumption, Beijing is well aware that Bush resisted calls to boycott the Games.
In fact, Bush is the first US president to attend an overseas Olympics. Even more cynical is French president Sarkozy, who had earlier threatened to boycott the ceremony over Beijing's crackdown in Tibet. Sarkozy then announced he would not meet the Dalai Lama. Now he has declared that the Chinese government "deserves a gold medal" for preparing the Games. "My presence in Beijing will confirm it once more: the friendship between France and China is a fundamental axis of France's foreign policy," he told Xinhua news agency.
"Harmonious society"
Beijing is exploiting the opportunity to promote Chinese nationalism. After openly embracing the capitalist market over the past 30 years, the CCP's claim to be socialist is absurd. Increasingly the regime rests on its record in promoting China's growth and prestige, appealing to a layer of the middle class who have benefited as a result. The lavish spending on the Olympics—1.5 times more than the five previous Olympics combined—is to underscore the point to a domestic audience as well as advertise the benefits of China to the foreign corporate elite. At the same time, nationalism is used to divert attention from the deepening social chasm between rich and poor in China.
In order to hide China's staggering social inequality, some four million people, mainly poorly-paid migrant workers, including those who built the Olympic facilities, have been driven out of the city. Thousands of petitioners, who came to fight for their grievances to be heard by top government officials, have been dragged away by the police. Many have been locked up in detention centres. Some of the urban poor used to live in cheap motels and basement apartments where rooms could be rented for less than $1 per day but these facilities have been shut.
Wang Lijun, a petitioner demanding a pension for his father, told the Los Angeles Times: "They say we create a negative image. They treat us like refugees and criminals." Another woman, Li Li from Shanxi province, who has been petitioning for seven years over her husband's sacking from a steel factory, explained: "They are cracking down on us more than ever before. They regard us as enemies who will disrupt the stability of the country." Then she added: "They ask us to embrace the Olympic Games, to love the country, love the party. But they don't love us."
In the name of preventing terrorism, the police-state apparatus has been fully mobilised to protect the world leaders and the Olympic venues. There is a 100,000-strong anti-terror force made up of paramilitary police, troops and special force units, plus several hundred thousand ordinary police officers, security guards and volunteer patrols.
Among the security forces are 34,000 troops from the People's Liberation Army (PLA), including the Sixth Armored Division, now stationed outside Beijing. The division commander told the mass media that the heavily armed units would move quickly into the capital in an event of "sudden incident". The last time that tank columns rolled into the streets of Beijing was in 1989, to crush the protesting workers and students in Tiananmen Square.
The military has also deployed 74 fighter jets, 48 helicopters and 33 naval ships, as well as anti-aircraft missiles and biochemical units. TV footage has shown military training exercises, including pilots firing missiles at aircraft intruding into the no-fly zones above Beijing.
According to Tian Yixiang, the director of the Armed Forces Work Department of the Olympic Security Command Center, the security forces will target "Eastern Turkistan" militants from Xinjiang, Tibetan separatists, banned Falun Gong religious practitioners and the "democracy" movement. In Tibet, the police force has been doubled to ensure "absolute security" during the Olympics. The People's Armed Police News declared in July that "hostile forces" and terrorists "are sharpening their blades and itching to act" in order to create an "international impact".
Behind the regime's belligerent statements is its immense fear of any disruption to the Games, which could damage China's image as a reliable venue for business and investment. Rising inflation and unemployment, and signs of economic slowdown, have exacerbated the enormous social tensions in China. The oppressed national minorities such as Muslim Uighur in Xinjiang and the masses in Tibet have staged protests. Any of this discontent could erupt during the Games, as protestors seek to use the world media to draw attention to their grievances.
An East Turkistan Islamic group released videos, last month and yesterday, threatening to attack the Games, and it has also claimed responsibility for a series of recent bus bombings in China. On Monday, in another purported "terror" attack, a police station in Kashgar, Xinjiang was reportedly attacked with grenades, killing 16 policemen.
In order to downplay criticism of its heavy-handed measures, Beijing has released some well known dissidents. The authorities have set up three "protest zones" in the capital, well away from Games venues, but demonstrations must be approved well in advance. Chinese citizens who dare to seek approval will leave their identification records with the regime. After the world's attention has shifted away at the end of the Olympics, they are likely to face harsh punishment. Foreign critics will also be silenced. At least seven British and American tourists have been detained after attempting to protest over Tibet or lack of religious freedom in China.
The massive police and military dragnet for the Beijing Olympics is a glimpse into the political conditions that enforce the brutal capitalist exploitation of the working class in China. The presence of Bush and other world leaders at the opening ceremony demonstrates the completely hypocritical character of their talk of human rights and the plight of national minorities. They are all well aware that without the police-state regime in Beijing, the world capitalist economy would be far worse off than it is now.
Get Hotmail on your mobile from Vodafone Try it Now!
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
Solar Power Breakthrough
By ENS
05 August,2008
Environmental News Service (ENS)
CAMBRIDGE, Massachusetts - Within 10 years, homeowners could power their homes in daylight with solar photovoltaic cells, while using excess solar energy to produce hydrogen and oxygen from water to power a household fuel cell. If the new process developed at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology finds acceptance in the marketplace, electricity-by-wire from a central source could be a thing of the past.
"This is the nirvana of what we've been talking about for years," said MIT's Daniel Nocera, senior author of a paper describing the simple, inexpensive, and efficient process for storing solar energy in the July 31 issue of the journal "Science."
"Solar power has always been a limited, far-off solution. Now we can seriously think about solar power as unlimited and soon," Nocera said.
Until now, solar power has been a daytime-only energy source, because storing extra solar energy for later use is expensive and inefficient. But Nocera and his team of researchers have hit upon an elegant solution.
Inspired by the photosynthesis performed by plants, Nocera and Matthew Kanan, a postdoctoral fellow in Nocera's lab, have developed a new process that will allow the Sun's energy to be used to split water into hydrogen and oxygen gases. Later, the oxygen and hydrogen can be recombined inside a fuel cell, creating carbon-free electricity to power buildings, homes or electric cars - day or night.
The key component in the new process is a new catalyst that produces oxygen gas from water - another catalyst produces valuable hydrogen gas.
The new catalyst consists of cobalt metal, phosphate and an electrode, placed in water.
When electricity from a photovoltaic cell, a wind turbine or any other source runs through the electrode, the cobalt and phosphate form a thin film on the electrode, and oxygen gas is produced.
Combined with another catalyst, such as platinum, that can produce hydrogen gas from water, the system can duplicate the water splitting reaction that occurs in plants during photosynthesis.
The new catalyst works at room temperature, in neutral pH water, and is easy to set up, Nocera said. "That's why I know this is going to work. It's so easy to implement," he said.
Sunlight has the greatest potential of any power source to solve the world's energy problems, said Nocera. In one hour, enough sunlight strikes the Earth to provide the entire planet's energy needs for one year.
James Barber, a leader in the study of photosynthesis who was not involved in this research, called the discovery by Nocera and Kanan a "giant leap" toward generating clean, carbon-free energy on a massive scale.
"This is a major discovery with enormous implications for the future prosperity of humankind," said Barber, the Ernst Chain Professor of Biochemistry at Imperial College London. "The importance of their discovery cannot be overstated since it opens up the door for developing new technologies for energy production thus reducing our dependence for fossil fuels and addressing the global climate change problem."
Currently available electrolyzers, which split water with electricity and are often used industrially, are not suited for artificial photosynthesis because they are very expensive and require an environment that has little to do with the conditions under which photosynthesis operates.
More engineering work needs to be done to integrate the new scientific discovery into existing photovoltaic systems, but Nocera said he is confident that such systems will become a reality.
"This is just the beginning," said Nocera, principal investigator for the Solar Revolution Project funded by the Chesonis Family Foundation and co-Director of the Eni-MIT Solar Frontiers Center. "The scientific community is really going to run with this."
The project is part of the MIT Energy Initiative, a program designed to help transform the global energy system to meet the needs of the future and to help build a bridge to that future by improving today's energy systems.
MITEI Director Ernest Moniz said, "This discovery in the Nocera lab demonstrates that moving up the transformation of our energy supply system to one based on renewables will depend heavily on frontier basic science."
This project was funded by the National Science Foundation and by the Chesonis Family Foundation, which gave MIT $10 million this spring to launch the Solar Revolution Project, with a goal to make the large scale deployment of solar energy within 10 years.
Make a mini you on Windows Live Messenger! Try it Now!
Monday, 4 August 2008
'I became a Zen Buddhist nun'
From childhood, Miranda Hodgson had been a staunch atheist, but when she began to practise yoga and meditation, her life took an unexpected turn
Miranda Hodgson The Guardian, Monday August 4 2008 Eleven years ago, I was living in New York, and working as an arts administrator for Carnegie Hall.
I was ambitious and driven, but I felt as if something was missing in my life, and I couldn't explain what it was. My family was from London, but had moved to the US when my two elder brothers and I were very young, so that my father could pursue his career as a surgeon. We were comfortably middle-class, and it was expected that we, too, would develop highly successful careers, get married and, in turn, have successful children of our own.
My father was an atheist of the Richard Dawkins or Karl Marx ilk, for whom religion was simply a mechanism of political and social oppression. Although my mother never said much to contradict this, she would seem mildly upset when I would occasionally deny the existence of God. I, too, was an atheist. As a teenager, I refused to be confirmed.
I was passionate about writing, literature, and languages, and I was also good at sports and music - a classic high-achieving all-rounder. However, the competitive attitude I was encouraged to have, coupled with my rather introverted personality, did not win me many close friendships. Also, being English did not make it easy for me to integrate into American culture.
Finally, when I was 18, I was able to escape the limitations of suburbia by going to Harvard to read English. I loved it there - studying, writing, and running a modern dance company. I began to discover who I was, and even though I lacked the social confidence that so many of my classmates seemed to have, I started to emerge from my shell bit by bit. I even had a boyfriend - a genuine, lovely guy in the year above me who was heavily into drama. He was a committed Christian, but this didn't cause too many problems, as long as we didn't talk about how we thought each other's beliefs were completely deluded and wrong.
Eventually, the relationship ran its course but, after graduating and landing a job at Carnegie Hall, I began to acknowledge to myself that I no longer found my aggressively atheist take on life adequate. Although I still found it impossible to believe in a god, I gradually became aware that there were other, non-theistic approaches to experiencing the spiritual side of life. I started to do hatha yoga, and was then introduced to Zen meditation by a colleague.
Something clicked, I left my job and returned to England to do postgraduate studies at Oxford. I continued to practise with a local group affiliated to the International Zen Association, which is based in France. Having previously lived such a goal- and achievement-oriented life, sitting in meditation and simply observing my state of being was a new experience. As I examined my ideals, particularly the validation I sought through unrelenting hard work, I found that they were empty; one by one, they dropped away. I realised there were more important things than climbing the career ladder at any cost.
Although it was a liberating experience, it was incredibly frightening at times. I had to reassess my approach to life, and in doing so, acknowledge that, by my previous standards, I felt like a failure. Instead of getting a highly paid job, followed by marriage, a house and children, I was struggling to make ends meet as I cobbled together an existence from undergraduate teaching while trying to finish my doctorate. Then, just as five years of hard work were coming to an end, my supervisors decided that they didn't want to help me with the revisions recommended by my examiners, and I had to move on. Without a doctorate, the academic career I had worked for was impossible. After going through every emotion, and becoming physically ill, I decided to use the teaching experience I'd had at university to go into secondary-school teaching.
I continued to meditate with the Zen group and attend sesshins (retreats) both in the UK and in France. In France, I met a Zen master (a practitioner who has received permission to teach), and under him, I made a formal commitment to follow the Zen path. Unlike in Japan, where Zen monks and nuns are supported by the state, Europeans who make this commitment continue to live and work in society as they did before. For me, the decision to ask for nun ordination came easily. It simply felt like the right thing to do; it made sense. Life was beginning to unfold naturally.
The ceremony took place at my Master's little dojo (meditation hall) near Tours, France, on a beautiful summer morning last year. I received a black kolomo (a kimono with extra-long sleeves) to wear over my white kimono, as well as the black kesa (a rectangular garment that is worn wrapped around the body and over the left shoulder during meditation) and the rakusu (a miniature kesa that is shaped like a short apron) that I had sewn myself. I was given a document that traces my lineage back to Shakyamuni Buddha, a bowl for my meals, and a nun name that will be used only after my death. I cried throughout the ceremony, but the look on my face in the official photograph says it all: sitting next to my Master I look emotional, almost overwhelmed, but relieved and happy.
Nearly a year has passed since then and people's reactions to my ordination have been varied. My mother has been curious and supportive, while my father does not mention it; I have no idea of his opinion, other than that he does not disapprove. I think he sees that I am happier now, which is good enough for him. Because I am now a teacher, I don't shave my head and, as I wear the kolomo and kesa only for meditation, I look no different from anyone else you would see in the street.
When most people hear the word nun, they think of Catholic nuns. Often, their first question is why would I want to give up having sex for ever. Stated in this way, it puts sex on a par with things such as smoking or drinking: self-gratifying acts of pleasurable consumption. If one understands sex according to such a selfish, loveless definition, then I suppose that yes, I have "given it up". One of the vows I made when I was ordained pertains to sex, and it states that you should not use your sexuality in a way that harms. It is not what you do, therefore, but how you do it: using someone as a commodity for one's own satisfaction is definitely harmful if considered in that light. Shortly after my ordination, I met a man with whom I now share a relationship based on mutual trust and respect.
Most of my teenage students know I am a nun, and their reactions fascinate me. They are openly curious about what it means to be a Buddhist as well as a nun and, of course, asking me questions about it is a great time-waster in lessons. One question that comes up fairly frequently is whether I believe in God, but I'm not sure if they understand when I tell them that the idea of the Abrahamic God has no place in Buddhism. At other times, they ask me how I meditate. They put their hands into what they think is a suitably yogic position, shut their eyes, and say: "Ohmmm."
I find their preconceptions entertaining, and they don't want to believe me when I tell them the truth: that we sit still and don't move or make a sound for up to six hours a day. I think it must be fairly strange for them to be faced with someone who has made such a strong religious commitment. Some of them assume I live like a puritan, and are surprised when I tell them that I do drink alcohol and I will eat meat.
While my status as a nun usually fosters a dialogue between me and my students, I sometimes feel it separates us. Nowadays, students think that, to be successful in life, they must strive for high scores, regardless of whether academic learning is right for them. I feel sad at how stressed my students get and, during exams, I remember words from a Zen teacher that to "be adequate" is enough in life.
After I was ordained, my Master told me that in the following year, my karma would move more quickly, and I have found myself making quite a few changes to my life, particularly in terms of my career trajectory. I'm finding the balance, bit by bit. There is a saying that following the Zen Buddhist path is simple, but it is not easy. It takes effort that needs to be renewed daily. When things start to get overwhelming, I just remember the poem that is written in black ink on the white silk that lines my rakusu: "With my kesa and shaved head, I am free." The simple truth of these words will, I hope, always inspire me.
Miranda Hodgson The Guardian, Monday August 4 2008 Eleven years ago, I was living in New York, and working as an arts administrator for Carnegie Hall.
I was ambitious and driven, but I felt as if something was missing in my life, and I couldn't explain what it was. My family was from London, but had moved to the US when my two elder brothers and I were very young, so that my father could pursue his career as a surgeon. We were comfortably middle-class, and it was expected that we, too, would develop highly successful careers, get married and, in turn, have successful children of our own.
My father was an atheist of the Richard Dawkins or Karl Marx ilk, for whom religion was simply a mechanism of political and social oppression. Although my mother never said much to contradict this, she would seem mildly upset when I would occasionally deny the existence of God. I, too, was an atheist. As a teenager, I refused to be confirmed.
I was passionate about writing, literature, and languages, and I was also good at sports and music - a classic high-achieving all-rounder. However, the competitive attitude I was encouraged to have, coupled with my rather introverted personality, did not win me many close friendships. Also, being English did not make it easy for me to integrate into American culture.
Finally, when I was 18, I was able to escape the limitations of suburbia by going to Harvard to read English. I loved it there - studying, writing, and running a modern dance company. I began to discover who I was, and even though I lacked the social confidence that so many of my classmates seemed to have, I started to emerge from my shell bit by bit. I even had a boyfriend - a genuine, lovely guy in the year above me who was heavily into drama. He was a committed Christian, but this didn't cause too many problems, as long as we didn't talk about how we thought each other's beliefs were completely deluded and wrong.
Eventually, the relationship ran its course but, after graduating and landing a job at Carnegie Hall, I began to acknowledge to myself that I no longer found my aggressively atheist take on life adequate. Although I still found it impossible to believe in a god, I gradually became aware that there were other, non-theistic approaches to experiencing the spiritual side of life. I started to do hatha yoga, and was then introduced to Zen meditation by a colleague.
Something clicked, I left my job and returned to England to do postgraduate studies at Oxford. I continued to practise with a local group affiliated to the International Zen Association, which is based in France. Having previously lived such a goal- and achievement-oriented life, sitting in meditation and simply observing my state of being was a new experience. As I examined my ideals, particularly the validation I sought through unrelenting hard work, I found that they were empty; one by one, they dropped away. I realised there were more important things than climbing the career ladder at any cost.
Although it was a liberating experience, it was incredibly frightening at times. I had to reassess my approach to life, and in doing so, acknowledge that, by my previous standards, I felt like a failure. Instead of getting a highly paid job, followed by marriage, a house and children, I was struggling to make ends meet as I cobbled together an existence from undergraduate teaching while trying to finish my doctorate. Then, just as five years of hard work were coming to an end, my supervisors decided that they didn't want to help me with the revisions recommended by my examiners, and I had to move on. Without a doctorate, the academic career I had worked for was impossible. After going through every emotion, and becoming physically ill, I decided to use the teaching experience I'd had at university to go into secondary-school teaching.
I continued to meditate with the Zen group and attend sesshins (retreats) both in the UK and in France. In France, I met a Zen master (a practitioner who has received permission to teach), and under him, I made a formal commitment to follow the Zen path. Unlike in Japan, where Zen monks and nuns are supported by the state, Europeans who make this commitment continue to live and work in society as they did before. For me, the decision to ask for nun ordination came easily. It simply felt like the right thing to do; it made sense. Life was beginning to unfold naturally.
The ceremony took place at my Master's little dojo (meditation hall) near Tours, France, on a beautiful summer morning last year. I received a black kolomo (a kimono with extra-long sleeves) to wear over my white kimono, as well as the black kesa (a rectangular garment that is worn wrapped around the body and over the left shoulder during meditation) and the rakusu (a miniature kesa that is shaped like a short apron) that I had sewn myself. I was given a document that traces my lineage back to Shakyamuni Buddha, a bowl for my meals, and a nun name that will be used only after my death. I cried throughout the ceremony, but the look on my face in the official photograph says it all: sitting next to my Master I look emotional, almost overwhelmed, but relieved and happy.
Nearly a year has passed since then and people's reactions to my ordination have been varied. My mother has been curious and supportive, while my father does not mention it; I have no idea of his opinion, other than that he does not disapprove. I think he sees that I am happier now, which is good enough for him. Because I am now a teacher, I don't shave my head and, as I wear the kolomo and kesa only for meditation, I look no different from anyone else you would see in the street.
When most people hear the word nun, they think of Catholic nuns. Often, their first question is why would I want to give up having sex for ever. Stated in this way, it puts sex on a par with things such as smoking or drinking: self-gratifying acts of pleasurable consumption. If one understands sex according to such a selfish, loveless definition, then I suppose that yes, I have "given it up". One of the vows I made when I was ordained pertains to sex, and it states that you should not use your sexuality in a way that harms. It is not what you do, therefore, but how you do it: using someone as a commodity for one's own satisfaction is definitely harmful if considered in that light. Shortly after my ordination, I met a man with whom I now share a relationship based on mutual trust and respect.
Most of my teenage students know I am a nun, and their reactions fascinate me. They are openly curious about what it means to be a Buddhist as well as a nun and, of course, asking me questions about it is a great time-waster in lessons. One question that comes up fairly frequently is whether I believe in God, but I'm not sure if they understand when I tell them that the idea of the Abrahamic God has no place in Buddhism. At other times, they ask me how I meditate. They put their hands into what they think is a suitably yogic position, shut their eyes, and say: "Ohmmm."
I find their preconceptions entertaining, and they don't want to believe me when I tell them the truth: that we sit still and don't move or make a sound for up to six hours a day. I think it must be fairly strange for them to be faced with someone who has made such a strong religious commitment. Some of them assume I live like a puritan, and are surprised when I tell them that I do drink alcohol and I will eat meat.
While my status as a nun usually fosters a dialogue between me and my students, I sometimes feel it separates us. Nowadays, students think that, to be successful in life, they must strive for high scores, regardless of whether academic learning is right for them. I feel sad at how stressed my students get and, during exams, I remember words from a Zen teacher that to "be adequate" is enough in life.
After I was ordained, my Master told me that in the following year, my karma would move more quickly, and I have found myself making quite a few changes to my life, particularly in terms of my career trajectory. I'm finding the balance, bit by bit. There is a saying that following the Zen Buddhist path is simple, but it is not easy. It takes effort that needs to be renewed daily. When things start to get overwhelming, I just remember the poem that is written in black ink on the white silk that lines my rakusu: "With my kesa and shaved head, I am free." The simple truth of these words will, I hope, always inspire me.
Saturday, 2 August 2008
Why it's rubbish being single - There’s a myth that being single is great
Stefanie Marsh
Sharp-eyed readers might have noticed something that happens to newspaper columns come this time of year. Every August your favourite columnist goes away and is replaced by someone paler and more morose. Who are these people, you might have wondered? Why do they only appear in August? Shouldn’t they be on holiday like everybody else? Perhaps they’re the canteen staff, filing the odd column between stuffing vol-au-vents because the journalists are away. But interesting that they never write about children or dogs or organic gardens or husbands or wives or dinner parties or the complexities of village fête status anxiety, as normal columnists do. A normal columnist will happily spend 800 words musing breezily on compost heaps. A stand-in holiday season columnist, by contrast, favours other topics. Death, the plague, that’s our bag.
Want to know why? Because we’re single. We’re spouse-free zones. And usually garden, children and pet-free zones, too. I’m not on holiday because there’s no one I want to go with, ever since my best friend and I inexplicably chose to travel to Gujarat last October and fell out over a difference in opinion about a woman’s amputated arm. And, being single, I’m wary of holidays anyway. They remind me of that realisation I always seem to have abroad, that I can’t spend the rest of my life with this person. Because single people spend most of their time inside their heads, we tend to exaggerate bad past experiences. So maybe my holidays were good, but how would I know? The inside of my brain resembles the combined plots of The Poseidon Adventure and Saw III played on loop with all the uplifting parts edited out.
That’s the truth about being single; it can be horrendous, only I’m not allowed to admit it. For a few months I have been leading what most anthropologists would describe as a highly unusual existence in my one-person flat, and yet prevailing 21st-century thought – the publishing industry, marketing bods keen to get their grubby paws on what’s left of my disposable income – are trying to convince me that being single is the best thing in the world that can happen to a person. It reminds me of what Phill Gramm, John McCain’s economic adviser, said last month about the recession. It’s not a recession; it’s a “mental recession”. It’s all in your mind.
Likewise, there’s a myth being perpetuated that being single is great! The loneliness, the effort, that musty smell in your flat because you spend far too much time in it, the fact that children think you’re weird – that’s all in your mind. A fabrication. You’re not bored, you just think you’re bored because being single is fabulous! There are more than 3 million single people living in Britain today – everyone’s at it, why not join in the fun? You can drink cocktails like they did in Sex and the City! You can play Nintendo into the dead of night! Absolutely nobody in the world gives a toss about you, but, never mind, you’ve won the lottery of life.
Connected to this syndrome is another unacknowledged truth: that a lot of single people are mad. Some of them are single because they are mad. They tack uplifting quotes to their bedroom walls; they try to lure the attached away from their beloved with promises of a fabulous new life in which no one ever need share a tube of toothpaste again. They begin to excel in those activities that are traditionally dominated by the singleton culture, stalking and conspiracy theorising. But most of them are mad because they’re being driven insane by the pressure to be ecstatic about being single. Under the cover of normality they’re sectionable, trying to justify why they want to be alone so much. To this end they forensically inspect the relationships of their friends. “A lot of people are with the wrong people for the wrong reasons,” is their mantra and sincere hope. They gullibly fall for the claims of their friends with children who tell them how lucky they are to have nothing to do at the weekends. “How I envy you!” new mothers will tell their single friends. It’s an exercise in self-pity, of course. If in doubt, ask them to swap your life with theirs and watch them clutch their children.
If only there was some service that would reliably predict when any period of non-voluntary solitude would end, it would cut out the anxiety and allow single people to enjoy the good things about their lives: increased lucidity, productivity, creativity and self-awareness. More time. Not being welded together in some smug symbiotic ticking relationship time-bomb. Having your own personality. Less risk of divorce. But drinking cocktails whenever you like with three single and neurotic friends for company is for most people a definition of hell.
Sharp-eyed readers might have noticed something that happens to newspaper columns come this time of year. Every August your favourite columnist goes away and is replaced by someone paler and more morose. Who are these people, you might have wondered? Why do they only appear in August? Shouldn’t they be on holiday like everybody else? Perhaps they’re the canteen staff, filing the odd column between stuffing vol-au-vents because the journalists are away. But interesting that they never write about children or dogs or organic gardens or husbands or wives or dinner parties or the complexities of village fête status anxiety, as normal columnists do. A normal columnist will happily spend 800 words musing breezily on compost heaps. A stand-in holiday season columnist, by contrast, favours other topics. Death, the plague, that’s our bag.
Want to know why? Because we’re single. We’re spouse-free zones. And usually garden, children and pet-free zones, too. I’m not on holiday because there’s no one I want to go with, ever since my best friend and I inexplicably chose to travel to Gujarat last October and fell out over a difference in opinion about a woman’s amputated arm. And, being single, I’m wary of holidays anyway. They remind me of that realisation I always seem to have abroad, that I can’t spend the rest of my life with this person. Because single people spend most of their time inside their heads, we tend to exaggerate bad past experiences. So maybe my holidays were good, but how would I know? The inside of my brain resembles the combined plots of The Poseidon Adventure and Saw III played on loop with all the uplifting parts edited out.
That’s the truth about being single; it can be horrendous, only I’m not allowed to admit it. For a few months I have been leading what most anthropologists would describe as a highly unusual existence in my one-person flat, and yet prevailing 21st-century thought – the publishing industry, marketing bods keen to get their grubby paws on what’s left of my disposable income – are trying to convince me that being single is the best thing in the world that can happen to a person. It reminds me of what Phill Gramm, John McCain’s economic adviser, said last month about the recession. It’s not a recession; it’s a “mental recession”. It’s all in your mind.
Likewise, there’s a myth being perpetuated that being single is great! The loneliness, the effort, that musty smell in your flat because you spend far too much time in it, the fact that children think you’re weird – that’s all in your mind. A fabrication. You’re not bored, you just think you’re bored because being single is fabulous! There are more than 3 million single people living in Britain today – everyone’s at it, why not join in the fun? You can drink cocktails like they did in Sex and the City! You can play Nintendo into the dead of night! Absolutely nobody in the world gives a toss about you, but, never mind, you’ve won the lottery of life.
Connected to this syndrome is another unacknowledged truth: that a lot of single people are mad. Some of them are single because they are mad. They tack uplifting quotes to their bedroom walls; they try to lure the attached away from their beloved with promises of a fabulous new life in which no one ever need share a tube of toothpaste again. They begin to excel in those activities that are traditionally dominated by the singleton culture, stalking and conspiracy theorising. But most of them are mad because they’re being driven insane by the pressure to be ecstatic about being single. Under the cover of normality they’re sectionable, trying to justify why they want to be alone so much. To this end they forensically inspect the relationships of their friends. “A lot of people are with the wrong people for the wrong reasons,” is their mantra and sincere hope. They gullibly fall for the claims of their friends with children who tell them how lucky they are to have nothing to do at the weekends. “How I envy you!” new mothers will tell their single friends. It’s an exercise in self-pity, of course. If in doubt, ask them to swap your life with theirs and watch them clutch their children.
If only there was some service that would reliably predict when any period of non-voluntary solitude would end, it would cut out the anxiety and allow single people to enjoy the good things about their lives: increased lucidity, productivity, creativity and self-awareness. More time. Not being welded together in some smug symbiotic ticking relationship time-bomb. Having your own personality. Less risk of divorce. But drinking cocktails whenever you like with three single and neurotic friends for company is for most people a definition of hell.
Saturday, 26 July 2008
Nuclear Deal - India Ratifies Parkinson's Law
By Niranjan Ramakrishnan
25 July, 2008
Countercurrents.org
"A nuclear reactor is so vastly expensive and complicated that people cannot understand it, so they assume that those working on it understand it. Even those with strong opinions might withhold them for fear of being shown to be insufficiently informed. On the other hand, everyone understands a bicycle shed (or thinks they do), so building one can result in endless discussions: everyone involved wants to add his touch and show that he is there"
--Parkinson's Law of Triviality (from Parkinson's Law, 1955)
The fellow was standing on his 25th floor balcony contemplating the evening sky, when he heard someone shout, "Hey Banta Singh, your daughter Jeeto has committed suicide!". In his grief he jumped from the balcony. When he passed the 20th floor it occurred to him his daughter was not called Jeeto. As he passed the 15th, he remembered he had no daughters. And as he passed the 10th he recalled his name was not Banta Singh!
--An Indian Joke
When he published it in 1915, Albert Einstein had formulated his Theory of General Relativity entirely in his imagination. It was not until four years later, in 1919, that it would be verified empirically. Few of us can aspire to such a distinction, but wouldn't it have been enough of a thrill to be there at least when the experiment confirmed Einstein's theory?
If you were paying attention, you might have had a similar opportunity recently.
If Einstein's prediction was verified by Sir Arthur Eddington and his colleagues as they viewed the 1919 solar eclipse from faraway Principe in West Africa, the unerring insight the Law of Triviality was to be laid bare in the lower house of the Indian Parliament, a continent away and a half-century later. I can tell my grandchildren I saw it happen!
But let us begin at the beginning.
Earlier this week, the Indian Parliament had a two-day debate on whether the government should pursue the nuclear deal with the United States. The proceedings, shown live, turned out to be gripping television. Whether or not you followed politics, you couldn't help getting caught up in the drama of the Lok Sabha debate, with its stirring speeches, constant interruptions, inspired heckling, a Speaker by turns bemused and amused, himself a fugitive from his party, vainly trying to bring order to his assembly. There were accusations of MP's being kidnapped, charges of open bribery and, a couple of hours before the end, a dramatic display in Parliament of a valise with bundles of 1000 rupee bills (10 million rupees in raw cash) by three oppositon MPs claiming the government side had given them the money to get them to abstain. Many of the speeches were outstanding, some moving, one in particular was rollicking. The pace never flagged. The bar for entertainment in India has been set high, and Bollywood will have to work its heart out to regain its position. Even the President of India reportedly canceled all appointments to sit in front of her TV.
Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, whose speech was supposed to conclude the debate (called 'replying to the debate') could not speak amidst the noise and interruption following the rupee bundle demonstration. He had instead to enter his speech into the record and sit down. Then they voted, and what was expected to be a squeak-through victory for Mr. Singh's government turned out to be a 19-vote margin after all. But the governing alliance had been turned inside out. Those who were supporting it had turned opponents. New allies had taken their place.
And though the government had won, it had really won a vote of confidence in its continuation, not specifically the nuclear deal, for there had been little to no discussion of that subject. The Left Parties were opposed to the American connection, the largest opposition party, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) seemed to have only one grouse, namely that the Congress rather than it had engineered the agreement. As to the government, you could have gathered from its speeches that the nuclear deal was the lone and final key the country had to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
But the government could claim that Parliament had approved the nuclear deal (a weaker claim than Bush's saying Congress authorized the Iraq War, but Indians are fast learners), They lost no time in doing so. And the Bush administration, eager to see this move forward, welcomed the victory and urged Godspeed, a sentiment gleefully reciprocated by the enlivened Congress party. The nuclear lobbies in both countries are salivating at the prospect of a radiant path paved with profits. Or perhaps, a path to profits paved with radiation, except the subject never came up.
Those who watched it even marveled at the high level of participation (house full) and the level of the debate, some speaking in English, others in Hindi. It was a proud moment for all Indians, parliamentary democracy at its best (the bags of money notwithstanding), etc. etc. Unlike the staid debates on C-SPAN, one member talking to an empty chamber as the person in the chair tries not to nod off, this was vigorous and enthusiastic.
It was only later, after all the excitement settled down, that you remembered that there wasn't much said about nuclear energy, its need and its dangers, the wisdom of depending on foreign nuclear fuel (why is it any better than depending on foreign oil?) So riveting was the debate that we forgot what it was for.
To my recollection, there was not one sentence spoken by anyone, for or against the government, on the matter of nuclear waste and what India planned to do with it. It is a problem that has not been solved by any country. No one mentioned that nuclear waste stays on for thousands of years.
Very little was said about why other countries are not jumping on nuclear energy. One minister (Pranab Mukherjee, who gave an otherwise sober speech) theorized that neither America or Russia was building nuclear plants because 'they were floating on oil'. America imports 70% of its oil, and Mukherjee is India's foreign minister.
There was virtually no discussion of what role nuclear energy should play in the overall plan. France (and its high reliance on nuclear energy) was mentioned by a few speakers on the government side. The French challenge of dealing with a huge amount of radioactive spent fuel was never mentioned.
There was much talk of 2030 and 2050 -- how much of the country's energy would be nuclear by that time. What's more, the agreement's proponents argued that this was actually their way of avoiding global warming! What was the plan all these years before Bush's visit opened this line of thought? Not asked, not answered.
In all the discussion, the one name that never came up was that of Mahatma Gandhi. When Henry Ford wrote to him asking what possible objection Gandhi could have if he ( Ford) were to entire towns or villages, Gandhi answered Ford with an simple question: Who would control the switch? Through all their mock outrage, sarcasm hot and cold, paternal disdain, that and other essential questions never occurred to India's Parliamentarians during their two-day gabfest. Whatever the truth about their other alleged crimes of bribery and intimidation, it can be truly said that in the matter of nuclear energy and its impact on India, they remain wholly innocent.
As does the country the debate was supposed to educate.
Niranjan Ramakrishnan is a writer living on the West Coast. He can be reached at njn_2003@yahoo.com.
Get Messenger on your Mobile! Get it now!
Wednesday, 23 July 2008
The Return Ticket
A licensed host has to ensure his invitees leave the UK in time
SANJAY SURI
Licensed To Invite
*** Ever keen to create new classes and categories, the British are now setting up yet another class: Licensed to Invite, to add to the "Sirs" and the "Members of the British Empire" and what not. The new category does not come with a title, but it's surely got a talking point: "Guess what, I've won a licence to invite my brother from India."As the Home Office put it, "People will have to become licensed to sponsor family members to visit from abroad under the proposed changes to the visa system." A proposal so far, but who will oppose it? Not the Conservative party, for which immigration rules can never be strong enough. Not perhaps the Liberal Democrats either, ahead of an election where every party's nightmare is to be seen as 'soft on immigration'. The proposal will have to go through Parliament, and that may happen quietly. Under the law, the secretary of state has authority to make rules on immigration. These rules will not require amendments to primary legislation unless, theoretically, the opposition were to demand it. Changes in basic law are usually such that they draw long debates, unlike those in rules, because they come in the nature of nuts and bolts of a law in place. So, Britain looks set to have now an upper strata of licensed hosts. Not everyone will want that privilege, though. "Sponsors will have a duty to ensure that their visitors leave before their visa runs out," the government proposal says. "If sponsors fail in their duties, they face a ban on bringing anyone else over, penalties of up to £#5,000, or a jail sentence." Arriving, therefore, is the visitor's privilege; his departure the host's duty. And if the visitor does not leave in time, his host could be in jail, the sentence expected to be severe. "This is completely unfair," says Habib Rahman, chief executive of the Joint Council for the Welfare of Immigrants (JCWI). "How can an adult person be responsible for the conduct of another adult person? A host can't become a jailer, he can't be responsible for the movements of someone else." The move is set to target Indians since they are the largest minority in Britain. More than 1.5 million Indians live in the UK. In 2006, more than 2,12,000 Indian visitors came to London. And between them, the Greater London Authority found, they spent more than Japanese tourists. Britain earns £85 billion from tourists every year. The new rules will not apply directly to the 'pure' tourist, once the British High Commission in India has determined they are well-heeled enough to leave, and to leave plenty of pounds behind them. For tourists, there will in fact be additional group visas available. But the tourist from India often doubles up as a friend and family visitor, given close links. Thus far, a letter was all that was needed from a host in the UK. Such invitations will now get clouded over by doubt and suspicion—once you become a licence-holding Indian in Britain, that is. "These days you cannot trust your own husband or wife," says Harish Patel, a Wembley plumber. "How can I trust my family members who live in India, when I've been living here for 30 years? We will have to think hard before sponsoring anybody.Up to now, it was ok. But taking a chance of going to jail, no baba." Adds Preeti Pandya, a landlady, "What will be the fun of having my sisters and their children over if I'm always thinking that if one of them doesn't go back in time, I will go to jail."  Southall, the little Punjab of London The British government, however, doesn't care much for people like Patel, because they don't spend as much as the rich and professionals who stay in hotels—and usually return. Britain is estimated to have a population of 5,00,000 to a million illegal immigrants (or 'undocumented migrants') who arrived in innumerable ways, as family visitors, and then didn't make the trip back. And among these, too, the majority are almost certainly Indians. Other than the India of Tata and Infosys professionals, there exists an India—particularly in Gujarat and Punjab—scrambling for Britain, anyhow securing the most basic jobs. More than 90 per cent of legally settled Indians in Britain are from these two states, and family visits sponsored by the settled can be an inviting means for informal addition to the migrant population. Border and immigration minister Liam Byrne placed the particular Indian concern behind a language smokescreen. Through a process of consultation on the new rules, he said, "I travelled around the UK listening to people, and led my own delegation of community leaders and businessmen to India to review first hand some of the issues in one of our most important overseas markets." British politicians have long been hard in action, soft on language. The new rules will seek to block one of the last visible gaps for illegal arrivals. The riskier route of people smuggling, through many countries in many ways, will always be open. But there too, X-rays of arriving crates and containers (with suspected migrants in them) and closer inspection of coastlines and international trains has tightened protective nets. Few can challenge those measures, but the proposed rules on family visits can become legally controversial. "This kind of move will need to be tested in a court of law, because it is against natural justice," says Rahman. "People will find their ways of migrating. But for that you cannot create a punitive society, and begin to punish people against natural justice." The UK government might well find itself having to defend this move before the European court. The EU is debating its own unified law on illegal immigrants that would provide for tracing, imprisoning and deporting illegal migrants already there. British courts do protect illegal migrants who have been there long enough, certainly for as long as 14 years, or even 10. But that places illegally settled migrants in another kind of spot—they must legally prove that they are illegal, and for as long as they claim. The crate route offers no entry stamps, and overstayers have often shed their passports, making evidence of continued overstaying difficult. But if you break the law, it still pays to continue to break it for long enough. |
Get Messenger on your Mobile! Get it now!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)