Thursday 31 December 2015

New Year Resolutions



Goodbye 2015. Hello 2016. At the stroke of midnight tonight the bells tolled, fireworks exploded and we celebrated the passing of another year. One more year to add to the histories and by all accounts a year which some will remember with joy and some will remember with sadness. Visit any news or topical website and you'll find a 2015 review detailing some of the more prominent stories of the last twelve months.

And as we approached the end it was only natural we start to make plans for the next year - a quick glance at any social media will see it full of New Year Resolutions and plans. Plans for changes to health, wealth, relationships, time, knowledge, charity and all manner of interesting concepts and ideas are decided upon, shared, edited, deleted and shared again. Somebody wants to lose weight, someone else wants to learn a language and someone else wants to get a new job. Most resolutions that I've seen tend to be worthy goals and I hope they are achieved but for me the curiosity is how tied they are to the "momentous" passing of the year as though it's a seminal moment.

The calendar change from 2015 to 2016 is a convenient and definitive point at which to mark the beginning of an attempt for personal change but it's worth pointing out there's nothing special about the second that takes us from 23:59:59 on 31 December to 00:00:00 on 1 January. The significance that gets ascribed to the new year is brought about by our arbitrary cultural decision to mark the passing of time as we have done. Someone sometime decided that 00:00:00 would be at midnight and that 1 January would be the start of a calendar year. It could easily have been something else and in many places it is indeed something else. Many communities have their own calendars which watch time differently. The lunar calendar being a notable example used around the world. Some communities mark the passing of one day to the next based upon when the sun sets which if you think about it is a much more natural and observable way to measure the passing of time from a human point of view. The Islamic calendar year takes it starting year as the year in which the Prophet (peace be upon him) fled his home city to seek refuge in Yathrib, the Hijrah. We're actually currently mid way through the Islamic, Hebrew and Chinese calendar years.

So 1 January 2016 is the day we've chosen to work with as a society but what does that mean for our plans? Why do plans for change have to fit that template? The answer is they don't have to fit that template. If you want to make a personal change, start the change as soon as you can while your resolve is strong and your thoughts clear. Now that we're into 2016 does that mean new changes will have to wait until 2017? Of course not. Time waits for no man and changes will occur around you regardless of what time of the year it is!

Waiting to start a change until a new year begins is an unnecessary delay that can become a slippery slope of forever waiting to start. Calling a plan for change a New Year Resolution gives it a grand title that you can talk to others about but does nothing for making that change actually happen. That drive to change has to come from within yourself and it takes effort. Change for the better is rarely easy (if it was you'd have already done it) but it is always a good thing even if it can be a long, hard and thankless road that you may be terrified of walking down. But if it's a change you really want and you mean to do it then don't wait and, to quote the Nike marketing department, just do it!

Next post: A light and dark perspective
Previous post: Helping the Homeless

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Tuesday 22 December 2015

Helping the Homeless

Walking the streets of London at this time of year you can't help but wonder at the sense of cheer that is built up by the bright lights and festive mood. The nights are long and you might well go to work in the dark, come home in the dark and see very little of the sun but that's easily forgotten when all forms of media are shouting out that we should be happy, content and spending lavishly.

When you hear about the problems that people are facing elsewhere in the world from refugees escaping parts of the Middle East and parts of Africa to Donald Trump somehow being a front runner in the Republican nomination and from terror attacks in Paris to asylum seekers living in the Calais 'Jungle' it's easy to believe that as a country, we're doing pretty well over here in the UK. And I think for the most part you'd be right. For the most part.

Take a moment to look away from the distracting lights and the less rosy parts of life begin to emerge. And they emerge right here on our doorstep.

For the past few Sunday evenings I've been going along and helping out with the Children of Adam Homeless Food Project at Lincoln's Inn Field. Every week, come rain or shine, a group of volunteers meets in Holborn to give food to homeless people and every week there's 200 or so homeless people who queue up to receive. Crisis puts the total homeless numbers in London at around eight thousand in a city of eight million so there's a lot of people who hopefully find somewhere else to get food.

I've learned quite a lot from even my minimal activity with the project. When I first went along I had an image in my head of what a homeless person would look like - an image that had been built up from media I'd consumed and my own uncharitable imagination. Rough looking men wearing ill-fitting, unkempt and mismatched clothing was what I imagined. Upon seeing the crowd of homeless people queueing though, I was struck by an unsettling thought. There were no easily distinguishable features - they were generally dressed just like anybody else would be on a cold December evening. Put me on the other side of the volunteer table and I'd have blended right in! They were young and old, men and women, British and international, bearded and clean-shaven, quiet and loud.

What was common though was that they were appreciative that there are people who are trying to help. As they walk past the tables they're polite and friendly. Even when food runs out at the end of the evening or things go wrong there's no complaining. Just last week the stall opened 40 mins later than usual when the hot food delivery was delayed but I heard barely a murmur from the waiting crowd - some of who had already been waiting hours (the project runs on a first come, first served basis). One of the homeless folk had even brought along a ghettoblaster and put on some radio to help pass the time delay! And when we did start there were no words of recrimination - they took their food and went on their way.

I'm going to finish off with a plea - the project is always in need of volunteers (as are most charitable initiatives!). It runs on a zero-commitment, come-and-go-as-you-please volunteer basis so if you just turn up to help at 1745 on a Sunday evening, the team will find a use for you. It's not particularly glamorous (available roles include Sandwich Distributor, Coffee man, Tea man, Security and Bagger et al) The other volunteers are an interesting mix of people and you do get good banter from the volunteers and the homeless folks and I really do think it's worthwhile getting involved in this or perhaps other projects closer to you.

Food donations are welcome but better to visit and volunteer first to get an idea of what kind of food works best and how much is needed before bringing food donations. I've heard stories of a family who turned up unannounced with a thousand homemade tuna sandwiches - the vast majority of which went to waste given that at the time there were only a hundred homeless people who came!

Money donations are probably helpful as well.

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Sunday 6 December 2015

Air Strikes and Politics

Last week saw a flurry of activity, discussion and comment in the run up to the UK government vote on whether we should bomb ISIL in Syria. Once the vote had been announced we saw several days of intense media coverage of the goings on at Parliament and predictions which MP was going to vote which way and what that significance might be for the various party leaders. Outside of the Whitehall circus, everyday folk were talking and forming opinions on which way the vote should go.

In the end, on Wednesday 3rd December, the House of Commons overwhelmingly decided to proceed with an air strikes campaign and the UK rode to war once more.

The situation in and around Syria is ridiculously complex with numerous different groups fighting against each other while sponsored by countries who are working with each other to end the conflict (in theory). Without access to detailed intelligence and awareness of our military capability I just don't know where I stand on the question of should or shouldn't the UK be bombing ISIL. My heart tells me war is never a good thing but my head tells me sometimes war is necessary. Islamically speaking the killing of non-combatants (civilians) is forbidden in war which would make the decision seem easy but it's not quite so simple - bombing an oil field or a road or other piece infrastructure may be a reasonable target that isn't likely to cause any direct death and will degrade the enemy's capability and if you can find . I'm glad I don't have to make the decision.

What I do know though is that Parliament decided that on the back of whatever information they were given the best course for the UK was to begin air strikes. Immediately after the vote there were all kinds of reaction, ranging from celebration to outrage and from sorrow to shock.

I don't think going to war should ever be a cause of celebration and those who would celebrate should read Wilfred Owen's World War One poem Dulce Et Decorum Est (pasted at the bottom of the page in case you don't want to click).

Sorrow is an understandable response - reading the last stanza of the poem will induce sorrow in anyone (and if it doesn't then read it again carefully). The horror of war, especially in its modern form, means the decision to send men to kill and to die should not be taken lightly.

Shock and outrage I can also understand though I think in this case these reactions could be due to a misunderstanding of what the UK government is meant to do. The UK government's (or any other government's) first responsibility is to protect and promote the UK citizens' short and long term interests.
When close allies (in this case France) have been directly attacked and there is a high likelihood the UK is also going to be attacked, that first responsibility means the government has little choice but to join whatever bandwagon has been started to destroy/debilitate the attacker.
Not joining in with the anti-ISIL campaign would leave the UK wilfully damaging its relations with its allies and key trading partners. And if ISIL were then to mount a Paris style attack on the UK the fallout against whoever was in government and "had done nothing" would be the end of that government's credibility with the people and to whom would they look for solidarity when they showed none with their allies when their allies wanted it?

In simple terms - my friend is having a fight with that kid nobody likes - I should help him and join the fight so he stays my friend. It sounds very playground-ish but, except for the obviously far greater stakes when dealing with international geopolitics, I really don't think it's all that far from the truth.


Dulce Et Decorum Est (Wilfred Owen)

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, –
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.