"You Master of War..........." - a reflection war crimes and on the death of Senator Lindsey Graham.

We have just returned from a wonderful holiday in northern Spain. We were largely cut off from the big cities and the main tourist areas but with the marvels of digital technology one can still follow the world's ills anywhere on the planet - even in remote areas. And as we approached Portsmouth on the ferry on our return from Spain yesterday my phone picked up the news that American Senator Lindsey Graham had "unexpectedly died after a short illness". As I stood watching the great Portsmouth naval dockyards slip by I read of Graham's demise I thought back to last Last Monday when I had sat on a lovely Spanish beach and read that the madman Trump was threatening to "annihilate Iran in 15 minutes" if they didn't comply with his pernicious, mendacious and dysphemistic demands. Later, that same day, I read that Trump's America is planning to extend its military hardware - including nuclear weapons - at the many US bases in the UK. Presumably so he can annihilate, in 15 minutes, Iran or anyone else he dislikes; and I wondered if Lyndsey Graham had put those dreadful words into Trump's mouth and encouraged him in his ramping up of military might.

So, as our ferry docked and we made our way back to our cars deep in the bowels of the ferry I thought back to our little trip last Tuesday; it had a certain terrible resonance. We had gone to a place I have long wished to visit. Our trip was to Gernika (or Guernica as it is frequently referred to). Gernika is a town that was the first site of a modern day war crime when in April 1938, during the Spanish Civil War, Hitler and Mussolini carpet bombed this sleepy Spanish town. They bombed it on Monday April 26th when they knew that the town would be packed with local people all attending the town’s famous Monday market. The rebuilt town now hosts an international museum for peace to commemorate that awful event and to promote world peace and human rights; it is a place to make you step back and think.

But more famous than the museum is the mighty work by artist Pablo Picasso which is simply called "Guernica" - a huge abstract work in black and white that portrays with terrible potency the horror of war and the terrible events in April 1938 at the height of the Spanish Civil War. This great work of art (the original is kept in Madrid) - one of the world's great cultural, national, and ethical artifacts - proves the truth of the saying that "a picture paints a thousand words". Oh, that today's world had an artist of Picasso's calibre and ethical standing to depict the horror and gross immorality of 2026 America, Israel, and Russia; of all those, like Trump, who seek to bring pain and suffering upon innocents.

Guernica was only the start so far as modern war crimes are concerned. In the years since we have had many: Hiroshima, Nagasaki, the My Lai massacre, several other dreadful events in Vietnam all done on the orders of American presidents. But, of course, America does not have a monopoly of war crimes – Russia, Israel and various Balkan nations have all played their part in desecrating and destroying humanity simply because they could in places like Bosnia, Ukraine, Gaza, or Sudan – to name but four. And now we are promised more of the same by Trump in Iran. But we Brits are not guilt free. We might like to think we are all good chaps, a Christian nation of honour, decency and compassion but the reality is different. The 2^nd World War was all but over in February 1945, Germany was being invaded on all fronts by Russian, French, American and British troops. But, for reasons never fully or satisfactorily explained, Churchill agreed to the request from Arthur “Bomber” Harris, the chief of the RAF, to obliterate Dresden and its population. Over 4 nights over 1200 heavy bombers dropped over 3900 tons of high explosives and incendiary devices on Dresden. It resulted in a fire storm killing more than 25,000 civilians and laying waste to much of the city. We hypocritical Brits are not untarnished or above immoral action; we are quite capable of war crimes when the feeling takes us.

It seems that mankind, and especially American presidents, do not care how many innocents are "annihilated" at their behest and command. Life is cheap and expendable if you are of that frame of mind and have the power to bring death and destruction on those who you dislike. Mankind hasn’t moved on much since the time of the mighty and terrible Emperors Darius and Xerxes of the ancient world, or of Genghis Khan, Attila the Hun or Ivan the Terrible. I wonder if Hitler, Mussolini, American President Harry Truman or even our own Churchill had used Trump's cheap and callous words, whispered by some unpleasant ancestor of Lindsey Graham: "We're gonna’ annihilate Gernika/Hiroshima/Nagasaki/Dresden in 15 minutes.......!" when planning the destruction of these cities and their inhabitants?

So we had walked silently through the Museum de la Paz (the Peace Museum), looked at the horrifying black and white images of the bombing of Gernika and other war crimes across the world. We watched videos of old people recalling that terrible day in 1938, feeling their rage and sorrow. And at last we stood in front of Picasso's great work while the busy and lovely modern town of Gernika got on with its 2026 life. And 3000 miles away in Washington a mad President planned the annihilation of a nation, a people and a culture and sends more of his weapons of war to be stored and used from British soil. And as I stood in front of Picasso's work the words of ”Blowin’ in the wind”, Bob Dylan's great 1960s plea for compassion, freedom and peace filled my mind:

"How many roads must a man walk down

Before you call him a man?

How many seas must a white dove sail

Before she sleeps in the sand?

Yes, and how many times must the cannonballs fly

Before they're forever banned?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Yes, and how many years must a mountain exist

Before it is washed to the sea?

Yes, and how many years can some people exist

Before they're allowed to be free?

Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head

And pretend that he just doesn't see

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Yes, and how many times must a man look up

Before he can see the sky?

Yes, and how many ears must one man have

Before he can hear people cry?

Yes, and how many deaths will it take 'til he knows

That too many people have died?

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind"

Yet, as I stood, humbled and in awe, before Picasso’s thought provoking masterpiece, other, long forgotten, words came, echoing through my mind. And the years rolled back 60 years to my youth, and the war crime that was Vietnam. The words of "Masters of War" are not a plea for peace or compassion but are Dylan’s great and terrible 1963 damnation of those who produce and profit from war written at the height of Vietnam – and seemed, as I stood in front of Picasso’s masterpiece, to be more prescient today than ever. Dylan’s excoriating words were a philippic attack on those that made weapons and profited from the killing fields: the great oligarchs and billionaires who had the ear of President Kennedy, LBJ and Richard Nixon - and today promote Trump and fund his evil desires; the five star generals and the Senator Lindsey Grahams of this world who encourage him, lie for him and ensure that their weapons of death are sited in far off lands so that America might be "protected" and their own pockets lined with gold. And all this while others, the innocents - the expendable, collateral damage that is humanity, must die in order that the American dream can be fulfilled, that the dollar can ride roughshod over the rest of humanity and that another American President can preen and boast of his power and America’s might and self righteousness:

"Come, you masters of war

You that build the big guns

You that build the death planes

You that build all the bombs

You that hide behind walls

You that hide behind desks

I just want you to know

I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'

But build to destroy

You play with my world

Like it's your little toy

You put a gun in my hand

And you hide from my eyes

And you turn and run farther

When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old

You lie and deceive

A world war can be won

You want me to believe

But I see through your eyes

And I see through your brain

Like I see through the water

That runs down my drain

You fasten all the triggers

For the others to fire

Then you sit back and watch

While the death count gets higher

You hide in your mansion

While the young peoples' blood

Flows out of their bodies

And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear

That can ever be hurled

Fear to bring children

Into the world

For threatenin' my baby

Unborn and unnamed

You ain't worth the blood

That runs in your veins

How much do I know

To talk out of turn?

You might say that I'm young

You might say I'm unlearned

But there's one thing I know

Though I'm younger than you

That even Jesus would never

Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question

Is your money that good?

Will it buy you forgiveness?

Do you think that it could?

I think you will find

When your death takes its toll

All the money you made

Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die

And your death will come soon

I'll follow your casket

On a pale afternoon

I'll watch while you're lowered

Down to your deathbed

And I'll stand over your grave

'Til I'm sure that you're dead"

Our little act of homage done, we left Picasso’s great work and wondered down Gernika’s silent lunchtime streets that had once echoed to the roar of German and Italian bombers and the terrifying sounds and sights of death. We made our way back to the town centre, subdued at what we had seen and where we had been. We enjoyed a lovely and gentle lunch and tried to think of of pleasanter things. Lunch done, a short drive took us to Mundaka a lovely little resort where we sat for a couple of hours enjoying the July sun, the view and the silence; a far cry from the evil ravings of the American president and his squalid supporters, who now are the face what was once, perhaps, a more respected, and certainly a more honourable nation, but is now a place of hateful deceit and violent, immoral deeds. 

So, we sat gazing out onto a peaceful beach and a gently rolling sea, our minds still plagued by the news that appeared on our mobile phones of Trump’s plans and pronouncements and of the couple of hours we had spent in Gernika. And the words of another long learned verse came to me, reminding me that humanity’s capacity for evil is an ever present: Osbert Sitwell’s poignant and witheringly cutting “The Next War”. Written in 1919 in the aftermath of the 1^st World War, Sitwell, as many others of his generation, knew that another war was inevitable; and like Bob Dylan he pointed a finger at those who promote and profit from war, who raise the call to arms and encourage young men to go to their deaths in the hell of the trenches to put gold in the pockets of weapon makers and power in the hands of politicians. Sitwell knew, as we all know, that men like Hitler, Mussolini, Churchill, Trump, Putin and Netanyahu are only able to do the things that they do because others support, promote, finance and ultimately make real their sadistic and evil ideas; powerful fixers, manipulators, power brokers and wealth seekers like the late Senator Graham who are at the root of evil. Sitwell's words are both painfully true and prophetic - and more relevant today in 2026 than they were when he wrote the over a century ago:

"The long war had ended.

Its miseries had grown faded.

Deaf men became difficult to talk to,

Heroes became bores.

Those alchemists

Who had converted blood into gold

Had grown elderly.

But they held a meeting,

Saying,

'We think perhaps we ought

To put up tombs

Or erect altars

To those brave lads

Who were so willingly burnt,

Or blinded,

Or maimed,

Who lost all likeness to a living thing,

Or were blown to bleeding patches of flesh

For our sakes.

It would look well.

Or we might even educate the children.'

But the richest of these wizards

Coughed gently;

And he said:

'I have always been to the front

-In private enterprise-,

I yield in public spirit

To no man.

I think yours is a very good idea

- A capital idea -

And not too costly . . .

But it seems to me

That the cause for which we fought

Is again endangered.

What more fitting memorial for the fallen

Than that their children

Should fall for the same cause?'

Rushing eagerly into the street,

The kindly old gentlemen cried

To the young:

'Will you sacrifice

Through your lethargy

What your fathers died to gain ?

The world must be made safe for the young!'

And the children

Went. . . ."

We should heed the words of Dylan and Sitwell and the brush of Picasso if mankind is not to sacrifice itself at the altar of death and annihilation promoted and sponsored by Donald Trump, his cohorts and other American, Israeli and Russian – and yes, British - “masters of war”. Like monsters of the past they seek only profit and power at the expense of innocents. Never were the dreadful words of the ancient Greek general and statesman Thucydides more true than now in 2026, 3000 years after they were first written. Thucydides’ great work - “The Peloponnesian War” - is required study for all officers in training at the world’s leading military colleges: America’s West Point, Britain’s Sandhurst, France’s Saint Cyr, Russia’s Mikhailovskaya Academy, Germany’s Budeswehr Staff College, and Israel’s Camp Dayan. At each of these illustrious and disciplined institutions the men and women who will make, carry out and command war learn military strategy, diplomacy, principles of command and the art and execution of power from Thucydides’ writing. And they learn, too, Thucydides’ great maxim and truth about power, in Chapter 5 "The Melian Dialogues" that "The strong do what they will and the weak suffer what they must". I first read those words in the summer of 1965 – Thucydides was on the pre-course reading list for my teacher training course. I still have my copy bought for 6 shillings over 60 years ago and Thucydides’ great truth is underlined in pencil on page 360 of its faded and well thumbed pages.

The residents of Gernika, may never have read Thucydides but they learned and suffered its truth and its terrible consequences in April 1938 at the hands of German and Italian bombers, when the bombers of “the strong” did “what they willed” and “the weak” innocents of Gernika “suffered what they must”. Today, the innocents of Gaza, Ukraine and Iran are learning and suffering that same lesson at the hands of Israel, Russia and Trump and Lindsey Graham's America. Mankind - and especially the American people - should be ashamed of their country, their elected leaders and themselves.

"To such inhumanity how can we react?": Kindness & Hate in UK 2026

I received a lovely and quite unexpected gift today. It was from John, my granddaughter Sophie’s partner – an excellent young man who Pat and I love dearly. He had seen a book in a shop in Wolverhampton, where he and Sophie live, and thought it would appeal to me – how right he was. And that, of course, is one of the a real joys of receiving an unexpected gift, when the person giving it has thought of you and what would really appeal to you; it’s not something that you have asked for as a gift, or just been bought on the spare of the moment with little thought; as the old saying goes, “It’s the thought that counts”.

So, what is it? It’s a book of poetry, the poems all written by largely amateur and/or unpublished poets and it’s a real treasure trove. It’s called “The North & The Midlands” and all the poems have some connection with those two regions of our country – perhaps they are about the people and places of these areas or maybe the poet hails from the north or the midlands of the UK. For example, one of the poems is called “River Avon in Warwickshire” and another is titled “Village Life in the Vale of Belvoir 1923-2009” – an area that is only a few minutes drive from where I live.

And as I skimmed through the book over my lunch so many of the verses appealed to me and had a certain resonance – they are pieces that have meaning within the context of who and what I am; John chose very well when he sent this to me!

There was one poem, however, that leapt off the page as I skimmed through the volume – and on this occasion not because of the place or the author but because of the powerful words which seemed to me to be a terrible and profound commentary upon our UK world today.

It is a poem called “Holocaust” by a writer named Penelope Wood and as you would guess it’s a commentary upon the Holocaust and the terrible inhumanity and tragedy that the Holocaust was and is. It is searing in its intensity and in the moral questions that it poses to the reader but my eyes were drawn especially to the first verse which I immediately recognised as being of special and profound relevance to 2026 UK.

In the last week or two we have witnessed in the UK – as so often in the hot months of summer – not just a simmering discontent but outbreaks of malignant rage, violence, wanton destruction, and hate. Last year at this time we saw hotels across the nation harbouring asylum seekers being attacked by frenzied, flag waving mobs all claiming to represent their perverted version of patriotism. This year in Southampton and Belfast we have seen extreme violence and disorder as these same mobs try to claim the moral high ground after the murder of Henry Nowak by a Sikh man and the attempted murder of Stephen Ogilvie by a Sudanese man. On each occasion the mindless mobs have been manipulated and organised by extreme outsiders and their political rhetoric – Tommy Robinson, Nigel Farage, the Reform Party, the Restore Party, Elon Musk, Donald Trump, the right wing media and large sections of the Tory Party. In Parliament the Reform Party was described by an MP as representing “dirty grubbiness” – the MP was not wrong, but what we are seeing is far and terribly beyond that; we are seeing the manufacture of hate, the sanctioning of wilful violence and the terrorising of ordinary people being carried out on our streets by black "uniformed", hooded and balaclava wearing thugs, shaven headed, masked vigilantes, and tattooed criminal storm troopers all seeking some cheap violent thrill to give perverse "meaning" to their shallow anomic, nihilistic lives. And if we learn anything from history it is that this can soon become uncontrollable and worse, normalised. And when violence and disobedience to the law become normalised then society is on an existential slope into the abyss.

What have we become as a nation? What have we become as human beings? These are exactly the events that happened throughout Germany in 1938 and beyond when, for example on what became known as Kristallnacht – the November pogrom – saw Jews turned from their homes, houses and businesses destroyed, men, women and children dragged off never to be seen again, random murder committed by violent Nazi supporters all in the name of patriotism. We know where all that led to – and we are seeing it on our own streets: burning cars, bricks being thrown, houses invaded, innocent people being hounded from their homes, screaming mobs trampling into the dust the very things that make community life possible. These are the things that 16th century philosopher Thomas Hobbes warned us about in his great treatise "Leviathan", a mighty reflection on society, the law and good government; he warned us that when the law and good government fails then human life becomes "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short" . This is the direction of travel of our current society and sooner or later we will all suffer as the Jews and other groups did in Hitler’s Germany

Penelope Wood’s poem reflects upon this and its powerful opening verse seems to me to be a terrible, terrifying testament to our current times:

“A race we bred to be so malicious

That man to man could be so vicious;

It seems really impossible to me

That such a dreadful thing could be.

But that it’s happening is a true fact -

To such inhumanity how can we react?…...”

The verse and the poem are prescient; this was how the holocaust began – with a loss of personal and societal morality, with common incitement, hate, street thuggery, the manipulation of easily influenced minds, rabble rousing politicians and wilfully evil trouble makers seeking to grab power for their own ends; and the equally wilfully ignorant mob mindlessly following. It is philosopher Hannah Arendt's "banality of evil" made real In which ordinary people become evil monsters simply because they are unthinking, easily led and easily influenced. In his novel “Kingdom Come” written two decades ago author JG Ballard forecast our 2026 United Kingdom ills; he envisaged a nation in which ‘People are deliberately re-primitivizing themselves’, where ‘Willed madness can infect a housing estate or a whole nation', and where ‘the mob glares at itself in the mirror while breaking its bloodied forehead against the glass”. We are now descending into that abyss, a world where simple everyday discontents, disagreement with government policy or a desire for something better has viciously turned into a terrible and unquenchable malcontent – a malignancy, a cancer eating away at the very fabric of humanity and community. We were warned but did not heed that warning.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu grew up and lived through the hate filled years of South African apartheid. He knew how hate and bitter resentment impacted upon individuals and society and he was clear, saying: "Resentment and hate are like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies." Hate and resentment solve no problems they simply and terribly destroy us and our world from inside and as Penelope Wood’s poem tells us “….that it’s happening is a true fact….”.

Penelope Wood's poem asks a profoundly moral question: "To such inhumanity how can we react?" And how one answers that question will say much about you, your ethical stance and indeed your humanity. For me, I will not take the path of hate, I will not - to use JG Ballard's phrase - re-primitivize and regress to the primitive barbarism, the "dirty grubbiness", of these modern day nihilistic politicians, peddlers of hate like Nigel Farage, Donald Trump and the rest nor will I excuse or condone the street savages of Southampton, Belfast, or anywhere else; instead I will take the path of kindness, generosity and yes, love. The same love and kindness that prompted Sophie’s partner, John, to think of me and send me this lovely little gift – because it’s the thought that counts. To quote Desmond Tutu again: "Hate and humanity cannot exist together; my humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together."

Amen to that.

I’ll stick with bureaucracy and red tape; it keeps me and society going!

In the rabble rousing politics of the right that now threaten our country, and indeed the wider world, great chunks of the population are keen to show their resentment and rage that the world does not revolve around them by believing in, and voting for, policies and actions that will harm both them and others. Millions of wilfully ignorant voters in America support Donald Trump even though his promises and actions are causing them and America self harm: his incursions in the middle east, for example are costing the American tax payer billions of dollars and his zero sum game of tariffs with other nations has put up the cost of living in America hugely. In our own country, the "great unthinking" in our electorate ensured that we committed the greatest act of national self harm ever in 2016 when, following pressure from the right in the Tory party and the political manoeuvring of snake oil salesmen like Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson we chose Brexit as the way forward for our country. We all now know how that went. Since then the growing populist rabble have highlighted the need to, amongst other things, cut back on our own human rights laws, leave the EU Human Rights Convention, withdraw from the EU Court of Justice, cut back on “red tape” in our government and local councils, reduce the many planning laws that relate to things like the green belt, slash much of our health and safety legislation, cut “waste” and “bureaucracy” in our public bodies like the health service. The list is endless; a national “throwing out of the toys from the pram” by an increasingly resentful and grotesquely immature electorate venting its spleen on the very things that our fathers and grandfathers fought for. They, we, have forgotten why these institutions, initiatives, laws and rules were demanded and fought for by our forefathers and are still needed today by our generation.

In saying this, I am reminded of the comment by the late Lord Bingham, the country’s most eminent judge and former President of the UK Supreme Court, when asked about what he thought about those who despise these basic rights, laws and policies so much that they wish us in the UK to remove them from the statute books. His rhetorical response was: “Which of these rights would we wish to discard? Are any of them trivial, superfluous, unnecessary? Are any of them un-British? There may be those who would like to live in a country where these rights are not enacted and protected, but I am not one of them” Exactly, M’lud!

I have thought much about this in the last day or two.

On Wednesday I went to The Park hospital here in Nottingham for my 4 monthly spinal injection. I have been having this for many years. The NHS provide it and I go to a private hospital to receive it. It doesn’t cure my painful back condition – that is a combination of old age, wear and tear, and slipped discs - but it helps, and keeps me a little more mobile than I would otherwise be. I arrived at the hospital, they were expecting me, I waited about half an hour and then was quietly and efficiently taken through for my injection. The consultant, Dr Hobbs, who always performs the task reviewed my records on his lap top and asked me, on arrival, how my sciatica had recovered following a visit he had organised for me to visit a physiotherapist just after Christmas. All of this was the result of “bureaucracy” at work. It is bureaucracy and red tape that keeps the country and our personal and civic life on course, working, ticking over. It is defined in my Oxford English Dictionary as ”a hierarchical system of organization designed to manage large institutions, whether in government, healthcare, or corporate business. It relies on a chain of command, a strict division of labour, and formal rules to ensure efficiency, fairness, and accountability” – and I’m pleased that we have it, otherwise my injection and my consultant’s awareness of my condition would not have happened. In today’s mad world England’s Reform Party and its unthinking supporters, much of the Conservative Party and even (to their shame) some of the Labour Party when they speak of bureaucracy use it as a pejorative, a thing to despise, a waste of money and the “bureaucrats” who administer it on our behalf – the clerks, the computer operators, the administrators etc. – as some kind of spongers who should get themselves a “proper job”. But without them and the work they do the whole system would grind to a halt in chaos. I like bureaucracy, it helps me make sense of my

world and, in this case, helps to keep me mobile!

And, to end this little tale, on Thursday – the day after my injection – I received an email from the NHS to advise me of the date and time of my next appointment in four months time; bureaucracy at work again! As I read the email I reflected how lucky we are in this country. No-one suggests that all is perfect but billions across the world would die (literally) for a health administration and bureaucracy like this; ask the mother in sub-Sahara Africa who has to walk miles with her ailing child, or the family living in destroyed Gaza where hospitals and basic systems lie in ruins. It is a sobering thought – or at least it should be. The email I received about my next jab, as always, explained the procedure that I was going to have and highlighted what I should do by way of preparation for the appointment – specifically not take the blood thinner medication that I take daily for five days prior to the injection. In other words, it gave me important information to help me be as well prepared and informed as possible, and as I look at the mail now I wonder what bit of this bureaucracy the numpties in the Reform Party of the right wing media would like to slash in their bonfire of red tape, bureaucracy, rules and policies. I suspect that if I asked Nigel Farage and his his rag tag followers exactly which things can we do without and still be safe and well informed he/they would not be able to give me a specific example, that we would all agree on; like all of Reform and other right wing suggestions, they are merely resentful protests rather than thought through plans and ideas.

But the story doesn’t end there, my wife has had a similar experience. Having suffered with a troubling condition for a year or two she went to her GP some weeks ago. He immediately referred her for various scans and these came through within a few days. As with me, the bureaucracy worked perfectly, the scans were completed and the problem discovered - a gallstone. The GP referred her to the hospital and the very next day she received a phone call from the NHS to arrange an appointment with a consultant to sort the issue out. What’s not to like? As Lord Bingham hinted why would you want to get rid of a system like this that protects, supports, and provides for the safety and support each and every one of us.

And finally, my App. On my phone I have an App – it’s called “Airmid”. It gives me instant access at the press of my finger print to all my health records, to my upcoming appointments with the GP, at the pain clinic, or at the hospital. It enables me to order my monthly medication from the chemist, and to see the results of any blood tests or other medical examinations that I undergo within a day or two of them occurring. I can see graphs and charts displaying how my health and test results vary or stay stable over the months and years and I can read my full medical record. I have all my injections such as for Covid listed and can read the notes that my GP makes following any visits I make to his surgery, and the letters he writes on my behalf to hospital consultants and the like………...and so it goes on, and all at the press of my finger tip. This doesn’t just happen – it is part of that same administrative bureaucracy that underpins the other things that my wife and I have enjoyed this week; it relies upon thousands of nameless people who I will never meet or know, or be able to thank, each of them using computers and administrative systems in offices far from where I live out my little life but all of them making that life a bit more enjoyable, understandable and perhaps a little better protected against what the world throws at me.

The Reform Party’s strategy (I use the term very loosely for my OED defines “strategy” as “a clearly defined high level plan or integrated set of choices designed to achieve a specific goal….” - all things that the Reform Party’s strategies are not) is amongst other things to: “….cut UK bureaucracy focusing on radically shrinking the Civil Service, slashing non-essential public sector roles, and reducing the regulatory burden on businesses….” Mmmm! I read this and Lord Bingham’s words come back to me in a slightly altered format: “Which parts of the Civil Service and of these non-essential public service roles and business regulations would we wish to discard" Lord Bingham might ask. And he might continue: "Are any of them trivial, superfluous, unnecessary? Are any of them un-British? There may be those who would like to live in a country where these services, roles and regulations are not provided protected – indeed there are, in places like sub-Sahara Africa, strife torn Gaza, or even Donald Trump’s America where there is no cohesive, free at point of use, national administrative and clinical service (resulting in people not seeking medical help, mass bankruptcies and millions with little or no provision) but I am not one of them” . Again, I would say,

Quite M'Lud!

In the febrile and chaotic political climate of our times where more and more are jumping on the band wagon of resentment, protest and the rejection of previously valued, and hard won, rights, services, rules and systems all in the name of cutting red tape, or stopping bureaucratic waste we are in danger of losing the very things that bind us as a nation together together. As another Lord, Lord Hailsham said some years ago. "We create institutions [such as the NHS, or the education service, or Health & Safety legislation] and those institutions in response create us - make us what we are". This profound idea, initially voiced in Berger and Luckman's seminal and society changing book "The social construction of reality" - a work that I have returned to again and again since reading it in the 1960s for guidance and understanding of the world in which we live - captures perfectly the reciprocal relationship between humanity and society. All of these "institutions" and their associated bureaucracies and administrative systems: the legal system, schools, NHS, local and central government, planning laws and a host of others are critical in enabling us as individuals and wider society as a whole to function; they enable the chaos of daily life to be made predictable, ordered and successful while protecting the individual and enabling society to provide effective structures on our behalf; they mould our beliefs, inform our actions and impact profoundly upon our daily life - in short they make us what we are and what we understand.

A “bonfire" of red tape, bureaucracy and regulations to break this profound and critical relationship will not “save” the nation nor is it a sustainable and thought out policy. It is, like all the other baseless ideas from Reform and other right wing media forums simply a form of propaganda. It fulfils one function and one function only, namely to give unthinking people something to hate and to reject and thus to vote against; it influences weak, unquestioning minds. “Get rid of government red tape” is an easy mantra, a cheap sound bite to use as a headline for a tabloid newspaper and displays to perfection the truth of the comment made almost a century ago by Lord Northcliffe, the owner of the Daily Mail: when asked for the winning formula of his newspaper Lord Northcliffe replied: 'I give my readers a daily hate.”

Lord Northcliffe was at least being honest about the worryingly dubious morals that underpin his newspaper, but he knew how to influence unthinking people: give them something to shout about, to hate. For me I’ll stick with the bureaucracy and the red tape, it helps to keep me (and my family) alive, well, supported, protected from things or businesses that might do me harm, and informed about things that might impact upon me or my life. It provides a framework of things that my parents and grandparents could often only dream of and which millions now want to take away. As with Brexit, we will learn of the folly of this act of national self harm.

The Great Game & its Tragic Consequences

 

In Southwell Minster, here in Nottinghamshire, positioned high in the wall of the transept there is a small, unremarkable memorial stone to commemorate the life and death of a young Nottinghamshire soldier in one of the three 19th century wars fought in Afghanistan. The three conflicts (1839–1842, 1878–1880, 1919) between the British Empire (based in India) and Afghanistan, driven by the so called "Great Game"- the strategic rivalry between the British and Russian empires for supremacy in Central Asia. Afghanistan was crucially positioned between these two empires. It was in 1898 that Lord Curzon, Viceroy of India, wrote to Queen Victoria saying “I confess that countries are pieces on a chessboard, upon which is played out a great game for the domination of the world.” Curzon's private words to the Queen were brought to the popular consciousness in 1901 with the publication of Rudyard Kipling's novel "Kim" and with it a rise in patriotic jingoism to fuel the geopolitical atmosphere of the time. The young son of Southwell commemorated in the Minster was one of Lord Curzon’s pawns in this macabre geopolitical game in which Britain was seeking to protect its Indian empire, while Russia was bent on expanding southward leading to diplomatic manoeuvrers, espionage, and much bloodshed. While Britain initially achieved military victories, they faced intense local resistance, leading to a disastrous retreat in the first war, partial control of Afghanistan in the second, and finally, Afghan independence in the third.

Each time I visit the lovely Southwell Minster I look at the memorial stone and shake my head – a young man, like so many others, who lost his life far from home in a conflict that was in no way of his making or of any possible importance to him or his family. And as I look I think of 17th century French philosopher Blase Pascal’s comment “Can anything be stupider than that a man has the right to kill me because he lives on the other side of the river and his ruler has a quarrel with my ruler, though I have not quarrelled with him”. It is a damning indictment of mankind and of great powers such as Britain that 150 years after that young man died and in the 21st century these “great games” of geopolitics leading to unwarranted invasion, bloodshed and sorrow are still being played out by great powers across the world; in recent years in Afghanistan, Iraq, Ukraine, and now Iran and a thousand other places ordinary men and women have felt the terrible impact of the “great games” of our age. "Zar, Zan, u Zameen" goes an ancient Afghani aphorism which roughly translated means "Gold, women and land - that's why men go to war - that and God." It explains in a nutshell, the British Empire's actions, Russia's excursions into foreign lands and the USA's foreign policies; whether it is the British army protecting India the Empire's "jewel in the crown", or Russian designs on Ukrainian land and mineral riches or America's desire for unlimited oil in the middle east the result is the same - innocents get hurt and nations plundered.

I have thought much on this in recent weeks having just read a book which is both uplifting and deeply distressing in equal measure about that blighted country Afghanistan. The book is by the chief foreign correspondent for the BBC, Lyse Doucet and titled “The Finest Hotel in Kabul”. It is beautifully written, heart warming yet tells a terrible tale. Doucet has spent much of her working life covering the continuing narrative of Afghanistan during the last 40 years of conflict, she knows the country and the people well and her book operates at a number of levels. It is the story of ordinary Afghans caught up in their daily lives, with the politics, the invasions and the wars raging around them and their country but it is also a history of social and political upheaval as various power players: Russia, USA, Britain, the Mujahideen, al-Qaeda, the Taliban and a host of others have vied for power and influence to suit their own ends. Just as in the 19th century, Russia, America and we Brits have played devious games to exert influence by, for example, funding and arming groups like the Mujahideen to fight proxy wars on our behalf. From 1979 to 1992, the U.S. CIA ran Operation Cyclone, a major covert program arming and financing Afghan mujahideen providing funding and weaponry to support Islamic resistance groups, aiming to disrupt Soviet influence. And then, when this all backfires and something like 9/11 occurs as an indirect consequence of these devious and often illegal interventions then Afghan suffers again with invasions or massive withdrawals by the world’s big players, leaving the country and the ordinary Afghanis flailing in a political, economic and cultural vacuum subject to the ravages of extremism. And in the midst of the turmoil ordinary Afghans try to live out some kind of normal, decent life but are too often swept along and overwhelmed by the terrible course of events, little of it of their making; to quote Lord Curzon, they are innocent pieces on a chessboard in the great game.

The book centres upon the Inter-Continental Hotel in Kabul and its story through the turbulent and tragic years since the 1970s as the country has staggered from one crisis, one invasion and one regime to another. The hotel, a five star place when first constructed (with British money) has been the venue of royalty, politicians, journalists (like Doucet), war loads, religious extremists and terrorists. From a glamorous venue it undergoes change after change to become a hollow shell ravaged by war but still open for business and proudly striving to keep up its status and high quality service. As I read the book it occurred to me that the hotel was almost a metaphor for Afghanistan and the Afghani people – struggling bravely on, striving to keep its culture and raison d’etre despite what the world throws at it. Doucet, a master story teller (as one would expect of a high ranking journalist whose trade is in the use of words), tells us the story of the hotel, of Kabul, of Afghanistan and of the ordinary people who work in the hotel and how they, their lives and their families are impacted by the great and tragic events going on around them each and every day. These are real people; it is not a work of fiction: Abida the middle aged lady chef, Sadeq the hotel front desk manager, Mohammad Aqa the restaurant manager, Hazrat the housekeeper and many more all of them, striving to keep their lives, their families, the career afloat, and their world together while at the mercy of powerful men in far away capitals: Washington, Moscow, London and in the remote mountains where religious extremists plan the next invasion as soon as the American marines and GIs, the Russian Spetsnaz and British squaddies leave when their respective governments get bored with the great game or count the cost, and move on. It is a story of the resilience and pride of ordinary Afghanis, who keep the hotel and their lives going despite the shelling, the rockets, the suicide bombs and occasional massacres of both staff and guests; it is both heartbreaking and heart warming in equal measure. Lyse Doucet is probably one of the world’s authorities on the life and the rich culture and heritage of Afghanistan; she has witnessed its history unfold on a daily basis. She understands the great issues at play and encapsulates it all in this wonderful memoir which despite the terrible events of the past half century in that land finds so much to inspire, applaud and empathise with. It is a book filled with compassion, love and hope, a paean to a proud but ill used people; a people who, just like us, want no more than to be safe, to educate and give a good life to their children, have food on the table, be cared for when they or their family are old, worship their God if they have one – all the things that speak of our humanity and make us human beings.

It is a book that deserves to be read. Not because it is a good story or because it is true or because it

is about real people, or even because it is so beautifully crafted and written. It should be read because it is a reminder of how easily great evil and injustice is done in the name of politics or political “games” played by powerful people and nations for their own ends. It should be read because it gives a context to our times. It allows us to remember that when we see the events in a place like Afghanistan taking place on our TV screen, or we read of Afghan people arriving on our shores seeking refuge that these are real people who have endured things that we in Britain – or anywhere else in the “comfortable” west - could not begin to comprehend and most of it rooted in the “great game” being played in our name by those we have elected. These refugees arrive on our shores often as a direct or certainly an indirect result of our actions over a century and a half until today and many in our country abuse them on social media, in the tabloid press and in our mindless and wilfully ignorant Reform party, and on our flag emblazoned, jingoistic streets while in the same breath lauding the "virtues" of the British Empire whose obscene “great game” was at the root of all this. It is a game still, 150 years after Lord Curzon first used the term, being played out at the behest and whim of politicians in Washington, Moscow – and yes, here in London. It is the story of man’s great humanity and man’s great inhumanity; it is the story of a nation rich in culture and wisdom that has been successively used and abused by others – including, unforgivably, by our own British government – for their own ends. That is why the book is important and should be read.