On Today's Political Discourse, and why we need a reboot.

In the choice between the taboo discussion topics of Politics, Sex and Religion, give me sex or religion long before politics...

"United we stand! Not you - you stand over there."

We're supposed to be living in a society which champions Tolerance and Diversity, or at least that's what one might reasonably conclude based on the amount of lip-service paid by its most dedicated advocates. And that would be a fair assessment in some ways. Sex? Most people will accept you can do what you want with whomever you want. Religion? Same, provided it doesn't infringe on others' civil liberties.

Politics? Well, no. That seems to be the one field exempt from requirements of diversity, tolerance and mutual respect. Consequently, while we claim to be living in one of the most tolerant societies, differing opinions within the political sphere seem more divided and opposed than ever.

Respectful discussion seems a thing of the past, especially on some platforms (Hello Facebook, G'day Twitter!). Neither nuance nor complexity, neither empathy or compassion can seemingly be conveyed efficiently in 140 characters or less, so they tend to be done away with. Four-letter-words and 'isms' are much easier to pack into a tweet, however. It makes engaging with politics a daunting and threatening prospect- not a grand strategy in a democracy if you want people to be able to come together to shape a community for the betterment of everyone. That's my understanding of democracy at least.

Ok, I'm not a political scientist. I try to stay well-informed, but my background is pharmacology and science, not the humanities. And I know, I've only had thirty odd years on the planet, but these are some thoughts which have been percolating since, brought to a head by some recent events. Specifically, the Rise of Donald Trump, the issue of Transgender Bathrooms, the Pulse Orlando tragedy and most recently the successful Brexit campaign.


Stumping the polls

Brexit took a lot of people by surprise. Myself included. I mean, it was close (52%:48%), but like the preceding British General Election, the outcome was opposite of what the polls predicted. It says a lot when canvassed opinion largely proves inaccurate. It demonstrates that there are a lot of people out there whose views on matters simply aren't taken into account, or perhaps even assumed.

This begs the question, how do we (particularly in the General Election) get it so wrong? Maybe our data sets aren't big enough, or representative enough. Maybe people make last-minute decisions.

I think those factors all play a part, but maybe some people are also afraid to answer honestly until they reach the security and anonymity of the polling booth on The Day. That's a personal theory, and I'll try to explain why.


A change in the climate of acceptable discourse

I'm no political science guru, but my understanding is that diversity of political opinion looks a bit like a bell curve: fairly high distribution between the centre-left and centre-right, fewer in the moderate categories, and then dwindling numbers as you make it out to the fringes of the far left and far right.

Those low numbers at the edges are a good thing, as history tells some sorry tales about extreme movements on both sides. Meanwhile, those of us among and between the moderates of each side have been happy to talk it out over ideas and accept the public consensus through a vote. It gets tense, it can get heated, people disagree, but that's ok. That's politics. That's life, actually. Or at least that's how I remember it (good grief, I'm now old enough to use that phrase sincerely).

A new problem as emerged. The rise of political correctness happened. Now that was a good thing back in its heyday. It highlighted issues, made people more thoughtful of one another, encouraged diversity, helped combat discrimination. All good things. At some point though, something changed.

Certain views and opinions, quite reasonable and deserving of open, considered discussion, became taboo. It wasn't enough anymore to love and respect your neighbour despite your differences. The Western liberal ideal of 'Live and let live' (you know, 'Tolerance') wasn't enough. If you held a differing (AKA 'wrong') opinion, there was a problem, and you had to be called out for the terrible human that you were.

Support traditional marriage? You're homophobic.
Concerned about immigration? You must be one of those racists.
Question climate science? Planet hater!
Worried about Islam? Islamophobe.
Subscribe to the idea of using a bathroom according to your biological sex which is now totally archaic despite being the social norm not twelve months ago? Transphobic.

Topics around which you would expect to be able to find reasonable, honest, respectful discussion have become taboo. Any form of dissent won't be tolerated. If you have genuine concerns that you want to discuss, you need to choose your audience carefully if you want to avoid being accused of being any kind of -phobe or -ist.

Sadly, a lot of people believe that shutting down discourse is just as good as educating and changing someone's opinion. Well no. It's pretty much the worst thing you can do if you genuinely seek reform.

It does two things. Firstly, it makes people too scared to air their views at the risk of becoming a social pariah. Secondly, it makes people dig in their heels, become more resilient and more reluctant to change.

When you shut down discourse, you shut down inquiry. A person who can't ask questions can't learn and will have no reason to change their beliefs or opinions. They will still hold these opinions, you just won't know about it.

Ordinary, reasonable people with honest and genuine concerns are cowed into silence, but they don't go away and nor do their opinions. They become a part of that silent majority which has been surprising the pollsters.


The rise of the Political Fringe

What happens then, when these constituents have no voices to represent them in government? Moderate politicians are also susceptible to this kind of public intimidation and many are unwilling to represent people and issues classified as 'unsavoury' by the mob, for they too fear for their own reputation and careers. These constituents must consequently look further to the fringes to find those who are prepared to speak; to the eccentric and possible extremists, whose egos care little about public perception.

These are the characters who emerge when more reasonable and moderate politicians have been alienated by society. Constituents feel driven to support them, even though they too may find some of their positions extreme, simply because nobody else will.

Enter...


...Donald Trump.

The political Left is aghast at the rise of a figure like Trump. His political successes in the US have left many bewildered at how he could rise so far on his controversial platforms.

To my mind, by silencing perfectly decent, moderate people (with genuine, honest concerns) and their representatives with intimidation and horrible allegations against their character, it is they who have driven these people further to the fringe to seek representation. Personally, I believe Donald Trump is a consequence of a decade of poor conduct by his political opponents. They have largely themselves to blame.


What's the solution?

Let people speak. Let people discuss. Let people express fears, ask questions, seek answers, find greater understanding. Alienating people does not change people for the better. As we've seen, it only divides people further, pushes them to the fringes and makes the situation worse. Here's how I see it:

- If you simply called someone transphobic for being worried about grown men in the same bathroom as their daughter, you are a part of this problem and are making it worse.

- If you called someone 'Omar Mateen' (the Orlando Shooter) or homophobic for simply supporting traditional marriage, you are a part of this problem and are making it worse.

- If you said that the Brexit vote was simply a vote driven by racism, xenophobia and stupidity, you are a part of the problem and are making things worse.

Stop it.

What's needed is respectful discourse, no matter the topic. Appreciate that people have different values and reach different conclusions for different reasons. If you want to change someone's opinion, try to actually understand their position and how they arrived there, then develop an argument and engage them. But be ready to be challenged, because who knows - their own perspective may even bring you greater clarity on an issue, and open your own mind to new possibilities.


Look, at the end of the day all I want to see is people actually respecting one another. We are all in this together after all, whether we like it or not.

Final thought: sometimes the best way to start changing someone's mind is not to speak, but to listen.

SG


***

I was going to share some thoughts on the influence of Social Media and the loss of nuance upon this larger phenomenon, but frankly this was long enough for any person to suffer through and I dare say others have had the same insights and articulated them better elsewhere.
I still might approach this later but basically: YouTube, Twitter and (to a lesser extent) FaceBook are huge ideological echo-chambers from which, let's face it, it's healthy to take a break every now and then.

UK Blog #3 - Reliving the tale of Sweeney Todd

There's a lot to London. This much, I know.

If London was an Orange, I've been flitting around one single pip, and I haven't even seen it all.

This morning started in Leicester Square, where I picked up my 'London Pass', a prepaid card which costs a bunch but gets you into a whole heap of attractions for free. If you're coming to London (Pete & Mel) check it out because it will save you loads if you intend to do a lot of the typical touristy things.

London Pass in hand, I stumbled upon an M&Ms World. Yes, that's exactly what it sounds like. Imagine the Apple store, but dedicated to M&Ms. You can get custom M&Ms with whatever you want printed on them. For a pretty penny of course, but still! Talk about first world extravagance. I didn't spend any cash there, though I'll admit the had some damn funky M&Ms pyjama pants!

The M&Ms channel the Beatles

Following that, I headed in the direction of Fleet Street because I had a mission to accomplish. It was a lovely walk, passing Waterloo Bridge, the Australian High Commission, Covent Court Markets at Jubilee Hall (amazing food stalls!).

An Australian Marvel ... and the Australian High Commission

Covent Markets, I could have grazed here for days

Good to see the English give credit where credit is due.

And, well, this just seemed funny!

\
From there, I continued until I hit Fleet Street. Being a musical theatre nerd, I was determined to show my love for Sondheim and Sweeney Todd, so I found a Barber Shop and had a haircut - I specifically refrained from getting my hair cut before I came - and then went and found a pie to have for lunch. It's lame, it's very macabre humour, but hey! It's me! Here's proof:

Ok, so it's not very pretty, but neither was the musical, so lay off, okay?

After that, I saw a sign pointing to St Paul's Cathedral, so I set off for same. I am so glad I did because I hadn't necessarily thought to do it. Divine providence perhaps? At any rate, it was such an incredible experience. I could have spent hours there.

St Paul's Cathedral, bathed in the afternoon sun.

The cathedral itself is incredible, and indescribable. The architecture is mind-blowing and seeing it on the television cannot do justice to the immense size, and detail of the structure and its design.

Anybody who has played Assassin's Creed II will have a taste of it (the design, to me at least, appeared quite similar to the Italian cathedrals recreated in the computer game). Believe me though, they're much harder to climb. Even using stairs! Let me explain.

I had the opportunity to climb up to the galleries. The first (internal) Whispering Gallery circles the dome of the cathedral at a height of 30m/257 stairs. From there, you can continue up to the (external) Stone Gallery, a further 23m/119 stairs. If you do this though, you have to continue up to the top gallery because the stairways are very narrow, and one-way only. It's do or die. The top (also external) Golden Gallery is a total of 85m/528 stairs up from the cathedral floor. Now, I'm neither one for stairs nor heights, but I couldn't pass this opportunity up. I started freaking out halfway up to the Golden Gallery, as the stairway structure becomes similar to scaffolding. But I made it to the top! Want proof? Here you go:

"You are here."
Indeed I was!

Oh, and some more proof.

The 360-degree views are amazing, but yes, it's windy up there. And freezing. Quite freezing.

528 stairs later (this time with gravity on my side), I was back on the cathedral floor, where I continued down into the Crypt.

Now, call me dark and dreary and macabre and all that, but I could have stayed down there for days. The Crypt houses the remains of many, but notably Arthur, Duke of Wellington. Now I am not one for relics, which seems to feature a lot in catholicism, but you can't but be moved by the experience.

Within the crypt there is a chapel called the Order of the British Empire Chapel. It is dark and serene. Now, God's omnipresence aside, it was so peaceful to sit in the chapel, read my favourite Psalm and pray.

I was also inspired musically - how could one not be? - and instantly regretted not bringing any manuscript with me. I need to buy some so I can jot down my ideas soon!

Alas I have no photos of the inside of the cathedral as they don't allow you to take photography, but I bought a guidebook so I could help with the memories.

After this remarkable journey, I grabbed a coffee. Well, I grabbed a Starbucks, but as bad as it sounds, it was the nicest coffee I've bought since I've been here. Finding a decent coffee will clearly be a journey in itself!

Then I caught a tube to South Kensington, to head to the Royal Albert Hall where Mel and I are seeing Cirque du Soleil's Quidam, with a couple of her friends. On the way to the RAH though I stopped at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Incredible. I had an hour to spend in there but you could spend days in there and probably not see everything properly. And this is just one museum out of... stacks.

Ah well. Hopefully there'll be time to go back.

For now though, I'm in the RAH cafe, waiting for Mel and Co to arrive.

This is where I sign out. Let me pause and say thank you to all those who have been commenting on these posts, either here or on FB. Thank you for enjoying my journey with me and encouraging me to keep writing. I am loving sharing everything with you as it gives me a chance to reflect.

Grace and peace!
SG

PS. This was this afternoon's functional status of the tube, just to vex those fans of CityRail!

UK Blog #2 - Welcome to London

Wow, so here we go. I'm sitting in a cafe in Leicester Square drinking some pretty bad coffee, and waiting for a nice, hot greasy breakfast to arrive. While I'm here I'm reflecting on my first full day in London, which was yesterday. Well, yesterday in London time. I don't have the brain power to figure out when the hell it was if you're anywhere else.

Bad coffee at Leicester Sq.

I stepped off the plain and cleared Immigration and Customs with relative ease. I guess they like Australians, because despite the fact that the guy behind the desk looked clinically depressed, I made it through with relative ease.

Today's Lesson: Border security officers aren't especially chatty.

Then Mel's beautiful smiling face was waiting for me at the arrival gate and we took a tube (YES, I TOOK A TUBE) to Westminster. Incidentally, the Underground trains aren't anywhere near the size of the Sydney trains. They're cute. Like little red, white and blue caterpillars.

Off at Westminster, we step out of the station and Mel asks me the time. Of course, I go to look at my phone but there's BIG BEN staring me in the face, proudly declaring that it's 10.10pm. A couple of photos of Benny, the Houses of Parliament, the London Eye, then a short (FREEZING) stroll to Tower Bridge, past tower of London, and we had back to Mel's. What an exhilarating night! Seeing all these things in real life, and even all the regular buildings, some of which are so old and beautiful. This is bliss.

Waking up on my first day in London, I'd planned to take it easy (it was my jet-lag recovery day but I wasn't feeling jet-lagged at all! - thank you lorazepam and melatonin) and just go for a wander to a nearby cafe, drink a coffee (perfect because it was raining).

Alas, I had a bit of a freak out at the idea of being in this big, scary city all alone (Mel was at work) so I used my 'recovery day' and the rain as an excuse to stay home. Ah well.

Fortunately, Mel convinced me to come with her to her Bible Study group's social that night (curry and board games - so good). It was a mixed bunch to say the least! Mel and I, two other Aussies (from Perth), two from Northern Ireland, two from South Africa and even a young lady from Tajikistan! All the accents in the room were wonderful, and suffice it to say, it made playing 'Articulate' a bit of a challenge.

The most memorable character of the evening was the South African named Wik. Having worked as an interpreter previously, his English (not to mention his vocab) was astounding. I thought he was English for a while, because his accent was so thorough and proper (think of Hugh Grant in nearly any movie he's ever been in, except with confidence and having lived in SA for twelve months).

All gorgeous people; hoping to see them again at church on Sunday.

Oh, and on the way home we stopped at an ATM and I made my first cash withdrawal and put my hands on a twenty-pound note. How 'bout that!

Anyway, today is Day 2, and I left the house with Mel so that I would actually get out. We parted at the train station and now I have stranded myself in Leicester - nothing for it now but to explore for the rest of the day. Oh, and tonight we are going to see Cirque du Soleil's 'Quidam', which is being performed at the Royal Albert Hall. The Royal Albert Hall!!! Bam!

Let's do this.
SG

UK Blog #1: Goodbye Sydney, Hello Heathrow

You have to be at the airport by 4am for a 6am flight - what do you do?
Well, don't bother going to bed the night before. May as well use that time to pre-prepare your body clock to London time. If you're going to London, that is. If you're not, well, you may as well go back to bed.

So instead I stayed awake and caught a taxi into the International Airport at the most ungodly hour of 3.30am. I didn't think anybody could be perky and chatty at that hour, but nevertheless my taxi driver was full of it. Perk, that is. He came to Australia from Afghanistan twenty-eight years ago, arriving here about the same time I did. In my mind that makes him as Australian as I am. I got to hear his story about how his economics degree wasn't recognised, so he started working as an accountant, with some taxi shifts on the side. Now he works full time as a taxi driver, inspiring mirth into those who'd rather be asleep at that time of the morning. So thank you, friend. You set a good tone for my holiday.

My first experience going through customs and security was uneventful. Well, that said they did point the finger of judgement at my 110g tube of toothpaste. I don't know what they were afraid I was going to do with it - break into the cockpit and give the flight crew a good scrubbin', I guess. Still, to prove I wasn't a terrorist in the fight against tartar, I surrendered my Colgate guessing it would prove rather inconsequential to everyone except Mel, who I'll be meeting (and possibly revolting) in London. This proved to be wrong - more on that soon.

Let me stop here and share some lessons learnt thus far:

1. Don't wait to get hard foreign currency at the airport if you're flying out at stupid o'clock in the morning. The currency exchange places are all closed.
2. Nothing else is open either.
3. Don't try and smuggle your 56-piece swiss army knife aboard an international flight, or any other flight. Still not sure what happened to that young lady, God rest her soul.

Back to the story, where I'm sitting on my A380 (seat 56K) which boasted a cabin crew of 19, with a whopping 15 languages under their belt. Breakfast was served not long after take-off, though since I was trying to adjust to London time (nearing bedtime), I didn't see any problem in having a red wine with my omelette, baked beans and hash browns for breakfast. Though I admit my pallet is still reviling its abuse, the wine did wash down the sleeping tablets rather nicely, and I slept until lunchtime.

Lunchtime came around, in the form of a lamb tangine, which was super good! Unfortunately, something in it didn't quite agree with me, and I spent the rest of the flight periodically dashing to the bathroom to throw up said tangine (photos withheld). Perhaps this was my body's (or my conscience's, or God's) way of telling me not to drink red wine with breakfast. Injury was added to with the insult of not having my toothpaste anymore, so I was able to relive the taste of the delightful tangine all the way to Dubai, some several hours away. I had no problem with the idea of travelling by myself, though I will say that when you're sick and you're all by yourself, it does heighten the sense of vulnerability you feel.

On approach, I got a couple of nice photos of the UAE coastline. Nothing spectacular, unless you're me, in which case it's the first land you've seen in your life that isn't Australia. It was delightful seeing some of the architecture of the houses while we landed, and though the CBD is a far way away, I did see a glimpse of the Burj Khafti from inside the airport.

Which is where I sit now. Thankfully I don't feel crook anymore. I've found my gate (B13 for those interested, probably only my father) and am sitting here drinking a coffee and eating a blueberry muffin. The coffee was purchased from a rather safe looking cafe, which looked like it had a proper barista making proper coffee. I don't need to tell you it's a disappointment, though all credit - it's better than what I was expecting. Probably shouldn't have gotten a large though...

Soon, now that I've found my gate, I'll get up and wander the shops. Advice given to me was to load USD onto a card to use in Dubai, though my cafe only listed prices in AED; a currency I don't have on my card. Wondering if it pulled it out of my USD or if I'll be hit with some whopping penalty fee later on. Needless to say, I'm hesitant to buy anything unless I can pay USD for it.

Ah well, there's nothing for it. I'm going to go for a shop and see if I can't accidentally spend my entire holiday budget in bank fees.

****

So the highlight of my Dutyfree shopping spree in Dubai was the Bounty chocolate milk I found. Chocolate coconut milk. So good. Why is this not in Australia?

I also discovered that in Dubai, you can buy all sorts of medications off the shelf. All I needed was Panadol, but had I needed contraceptive pills, steroid creams, Seretide inhalers, there it was all their for my self-medicating convenience! Hooray!

But I just stuck with the Panadol.

The Dubai to Heathrow leg of the trip was comparably shorter, and nicer. Some Big Bang Theory, and a couple of movies later we were on approach. I finally got around to seeing the movie 'Gravity' with Sandra Bullock. Great movie, though possibly not the best choice as an inflight movie. Nevertheless gravity was working in our favour as we started flying over England.

It was an exhilarating feeling, flying over Europe from Dubai, passing over Kuwait, Iraq, Constantinople, Germany. I saw snow-capped peaks from the air! Until it was dark. Then it was just random collections of lights and I had to guess which places they were. Still, all that excitement couldn't beat seeing the lights of the coast of England through the window as we crossed the English Channel.

While my ancestors came to Aus from various regions of the UK four or five generations ago, there was still a vague sense of 'coming home' excitement which accompanied my arrival. And I do feel a sense of being 'at home' here.

It's nice.

SG

My deal with society

Hello Society.

I propose we strike a deal. It's become apparent over the past few weeks that your state of affairs has, in my humble opinion, taken a turn for the worst.

It seems we live in an age where politics is no longer constructive - parties claw and snipe at each other like rabid dogs, and sadly a lot of that trickles down into the rest of us. I thought we'd seen the depth of the state of things when a PM could be sexualised with some awful dinner menu, but there was worse yet to come.

The lowest point (to date) was when a political commentator's face was photo-shopped to a man raping a dog and broadcast to the entire nation, a pleasure I had the privilege of paying for with my taxes.

I'd hoped that reason, taste and propriety would take a stand and all would be put right - or at least, wrong would be acknowledged. But alas, even the victim's own son would not defend his father's dignity. Quite the opposite.

The fact is, and please don't be offended, that I am happy to part ways. I think we've said what needs to be said to one another.

I'm sure we both agree, however, that there needs to be some level of relationship kept intact - not for any children of course, but for the sake of keeping up appearances. Because I know how much you value appearance.

So here's my proposal.

I will get up, go to work and continue doing my part for my own little corner of the world. I will be paid, and I will in turn pay my taxes. Apart from that, I see little need for us to engage, and I hope you'll agree. I'm sure it will save us both a lot of time and angst!

I hope you don't see this as a cop-out. Maybe it is, but I'm okay with that. Some are built for the more robust relationships, but not me. I tire easily, and probably let things get to me more than they should, which is exhausting.

At any rate, we've had some good times, and I do want to wish you all the best. For now, however, I'm checking out.

Peace.