Words to sustain me through tough times......

 In our 2026 world, a world beset with problems and issues that seem overwhelming and perhaps unsolvable it is easy to become disheartened and fearful - I know, because I am increasingly so. Whatever newspaper you read or whatever your core beliefs or principles, whether you are "left" or "right" in your politics, whether you are man or woman, old or young, gay or straight, or whatever your colour or creed the world's problems might appear intractable - and getting worse; in short, the four horsemen of the apocalypse seem to be riding roughshod over us. An escalating climate crisis threatens to end all life on earth; the unstoppable development of AI has the potential to harm civilisation in ways we are yet to understand; war, promoted and sustained by powerful amoral demagogues in Washington, Moscow and Jerusalem all driven by animus and the desire for power and riches has now become almost the new normal; hate rhetoric, prejudice, discrimination and inequality are now endemic in society, in the national press, on social media and fall from the lips of politicians of once great nations who should know better. Looking for good news, it now seems to me is an increasingly fruitless activity.

And on top of these great global issues we all strive to live out our little lives and somehow survive, make the best of the hand of cards we have been dealt, and hope for a better future for our children and grandchildren. It is daunting - sometimes overwhelmingly so.

Faced with all this, I have struggled at a personal level in the last few weeks. A reoccurrence of my debilitating back problems and painful sciatica has meant that I have been severely limited in what I can do physically around the house and this while my lovely wife of 57 years, Patricia, has been slowly recovering from surgery. It has been a tough few weeks for us both and although we are now, hopefully, on the upturn we have both, I think, come to realise how very vulnerable one can easily become. Of course, we are lucky, we have a roof over our heads and sufficient money to potter along nicely - but were that not so, I tremble to think how easily we might have slipped through the cracks and become dependent upon "the state" or other agencies; it has all made me think about those less fortunate than Pat and me. How difficult must be the path that so many tread whether they are in the ruins of war torn Gaza, or trying to survive famine in sub Sahara Africa, or waiting for the next drone attack in Ukraine, or clinging to life amidst the flooded ruins of climate disaster hit Nepal, or, indeed, in the mean streets of our own, often crumbling, cities where access to public services, diminishing social safety nets, and lack of decent affordable housing ensure that hundreds of thousand - perhaps millions - wonder where the next meal or warm bed is coming from. Both globally and individually we all hang onto the web of life, clinging to the thinnest of gossamer threads; for many that thread breaks far too easily and through no fault of their own. Despite the great wealth and wonderful "cleverness" of our modern world our personal world and lives as individuals and as members of societies, nations and all humanity can so very easily come crashing down. In these turbulent times nothing is a given; tomorrow is not guaranteed.

Against this bleak backdrop I have pondered much in recent weeks on a few words that sit on my lap top's screen - easy to see and to remind me of my good fortune during difficult times. The words are words of wisdom - and great humanity - from two people who lived unusual (some might say bizarre) but wonderful lives as man and wife for 49 years.

Vita Sackville-West was an aristocrat, a poet, a novelist, a journalist and a gardener born in 1892 into great wealth and London's high society. She died in 1962, at Sissinghurst in Kent where she and her husband Harold Nicolson had, over many years, laboured long and hard to create one of the world's great gardens. She was friends with the great and good of English society and a member of the famous intellectual group of the late 19th and early 20th centuries known as the Bloomsbury Set: amongst that group were the author Virginia Woolf, the great economist John Maynard Keynes, the world renowned philosopher AJ Ayer, the famous author E.M. Forster, the biographer Lytton Strachey and artists such as Vanessa Bell, Duncan Grant and Roger Fry; members of the Bloomsbury Set were, without doubt, the greatest minds of the age and the intellectual heartbeat of the nation.

Vita's husband, Sir Harold Nicolson, was a high flying diplomat, politician an author, a publisher, and a gardener - a quiet man, reserved perhaps, but a husband who allowed and encouraged his talented and mercurial wife to fulfil her dreams and destiny; to coin a modern phrase he was without fuss or fame "the wind beneath her wings". They married in 1913 in one of the society weddings of the year and he was with her when she died quietly at her beloved Sissinghurst Castle in 1962.

In short, they were (and are) one of the great families of England, inextricably linked with the nation's history. Two of my treasured and well thumbed books that sit here in my office are written by their grandson Adam Nicolson who was born and raised at Sissinghurst: "When God Spoke English" tells the tale of the writing of the King James Bible and "The Mighty Dead" is a magical journey of discovery about the ancient world of Homer. They are both books that should be read if one is to understand both English history and have a context for the ancient world.

But there is another side to the Nicolson/Sackville-West marriage, which makes it unusual and very special. Vita, throughout her life, had a succession of lesbian lovers - including some of the great names of English history and society and Harold, too, had a number of affairs with other men. Although they were guarded about their relationships in the public sphere (for this was a time when when homosexual/lesbian relationships and acts were both frowned upon and illegal) their lifestyle and relationships were very much an open secret. It was, too, an open secret between the two of them; they each tolerated, forgave and understood each other's lifestyle, needs, and predilections. Like all marriages and, indeed, all lives they knew that there had to be give and take, tolerance of the other's point of view, an understanding of the greater good, an awareness of another human's beliefs and frailties if things are going to succeed and benefit all; I think it's called empathy!

And as I write that last sentence I can only conclude that in these bleak times when the world and all humanity is feeling vulnerable, when great ills have the potential to bring our world to a shuddering halt it is is absolutely vital that all of us - each in our own little world - and as nations, creeds, colours, or beliefs show the same understanding and tolerance, the same wisdom and empathy. It is incumbent on those who lead nations - in any capacity - and certainly in the great power houses of the world: Washington, Moscow, London, Paris, Beijing, Berlin - and yes, Jerusalam - take a hard look at themselves and what their actions mean. For if they do not then the world and our little lives will become a whole lot bleaker and from which none of us might survive; for as individuals or a humans as a whole tomorrow is not guaranteed.

So, what do the words of wisdom on my lap top screen say, these things that have, in a small way, sustained me in recent difficult weeks? What do I see first each morning when I boot up my lap top and wince at my back pain and as my lovely wife, Patricia, slowly, and sometimes distressingly recovers from her surgery? They are two small quotes, simple truths, not great intellectual pearls of wisdom but born simply out of the understanding and empathy that Vita and Harold grasped if they were to live their lives together - for the greater good; they are, in my view undeniable, understandable, and above all true and filled with huge empathy.

Vita, although born to wealth and privilege, had a life filled with many personal sorrows and regrets: even those born with a "silver spoon in their mouth" are not free from the basic fears, failings and facts of life that we of lesser stature are; we are all human and to be human is to live with failings, loss, missed opportunities and regret. "Life is just a bowl of cherries" sang Julie Garland seventy years ago - she was wrong; it has its ups and downs, its joys and its sadnesses and Vita Sackville-West, like the rest of us knew that through her own experiences of life. So what did Vita's life experiences tell her and us and why is it on my lap top each morning when I log on. Vita said: "Small pleasures must correct great tragedies". She was not wrong; amid the distress, the sorrows, the fears, the disappointments and the chaos of what is often everyday life it is to the small pleasures, the small acts of kindness, the small attainable goals, the small glimpses that things will get better, the unconditional love and the heart warming smile that keep us grounded, stable, upright, hopeful, afloat, in the face of the storms that life throws at us. And what did her loving husband Harold say? Harold, ever the realist in the face of Vita's often extravagant and sometimes wayward life style, was perhaps more prosaic, based in the world as it is not as he might want it to be. He sagely tells me each morning as my lap top lights up: "The great secret of a successful life and marriage is to treat all disasters as incidents and none of the incidents as disasters". Good advice, I think, for all of us, be we humble or high.

Vita Sackville-West was a woman of great intellect and creative drive which underpinned and made possible her exquisite poetry and prose; it was also inextricably part of the relationships she made and the life that she led; in modern day parlance, she liked to live life on the edge, often challenging or breaking society's mores, values and expectations. Her husband, Harold, was a pragmatist, a man steeped in the inherent caution required to be a successful diplomat, he was the rock upon which their strange "open marriage" was built and remained steadfast for half a century. Together these qualities enabled the pair to not to only create and sustain a successful, if unusual, marriage but to create Sissinghurst, one of the world's very great gardens which is still today enjoyed by thousands of visitors each year; a testament to their enduring love and vision for the future. And in doing so perhaps making real their mutual belief in "small pleasures" and in not treating "incidents" as "disasters" but relegating "disasters" to mere "incidents".

Wise words indeed - and words that we all, whatever our creed or colour, our hopes or our fears, our needs or our beliefs need to think about. And that is why their words look back at me each morning and as I write this piece. Thank you Vita and Harold for keeping me going through some tough weeks.

Butterflies, Balaclavas & Being Human

This afternoon, as the late summer sun blazed down, I dragged out the lawn mower. The long hot and dry summer we have had in the UK has meant that there have been few lawn cuts this year – but recent downpours have forced Mother Nature into action and our garden now resembled a wild meadow. I hadn’t been looking forward to this bit of necessary work because both my lovely wife, Patricia, and I have been struggling of late; Patricia recovering well from surgery and me having had a recurrence of my sciatica which means a very painful few weeks of staggering from one chair or settee to another to gain some respite from the debilitating pain. In short, we two “old codgers” have been both metaphorically and literally clinging on to each other! 

But as the lawn mower leapt into action I suddenly stopped, having almost “run over” two little white butterflies who were resting together on the lawn in front of me. As I looked down on them they suddenly took flight and fluttered, this way and that in perfect unison, around me and about me; whether this was some mating ritual or just the exuberant joy of life in the late summer sun I know not but whatever it was an absolute joy to stand and watch them – momentarily my sciatica  forgotten. I stood for several seconds watching them flit this way and that about me, until at last they disappeared together, still in joyous unison, over my neighbour’s hedge.

It lifted my spirits and as I pressed the start button on the mower brought to mind a few things that seemed to be important about life and about the world. Those two butterflies, their exuberant flight, their joy (presumably) in being together, their wonderful symmetrical flight paths seemed to me, in my low mood, to represent everything good - and perhaps a lesson for mankind in these testing times.

In a world where the most powerful man in the world brings shame upon himself and upon the American people by his actions, words and policies and in a world where so many seem angry and filled with hate for their fellow man and woman maybe we need to be like those butterflies and fly together in joyous unison. In the UK this weekend we have seen hundreds of balaclava wearing men all dressed in black blocking two of England’s main ports - Dover and Portsmouth - in protest against the arrival in the UK of small boats bearing refugees and asylum seekers. In the last week or two we have seen one of England’s major urban areas, Middlesbrough, ripped apart with unrest following the deaths of five young men travelling the wrong way down a road and crashing head on with a police car, killing both officers – again, hatred and law breaking at the root of the event. Like many other countries politics has become more and more divisive and extreme; in the UK (as in other western democracies) right wing political parties promise to curtail many of our laws about equality, race or gender – and millions, in our race to the bottom world, shout “bring it on”. This is the dark and cruel underbelly of 21st century England. Our world, in my view, is in a worrying, no terrifying, place and I worry for my grandchildren - how can they sort this mess? What has gone wrong with human kind?

Hatred and violence are not new. But mankind slowly evolved laws and beliefs that most people subscribed to and which kept things in some kind of check – maybe it was a belief in the common good. But as I look around me now in my 81^st year I am uncertain if many would subscribe to that notion – or be prepared to do whatever is necessary to make it a reality; we have become a selfish, me, me, me society where flying together in exuberant unison like the butterflies has been replaced with individual selfish "I want" lifestyle choices and "beggar my neighbour politics". Few, in 2026 UK would, I believe, readily subscribe the notion of neighbour as described in Jesus’ “Parable of the Good Samaritan” – certainly not those in their black balaclavas at Dover or Portsmouth this weekend or in the right wing political parties of England or the followers of misogynistic and homophobic “influencers” like Andrew Tate, or on the streets and urban wastelands of Middlesbrough and other urban areas of the nation.

And as I pushed my lawn mower I thought back to hot June day almost 30 years ago. Pat and I were in New York and our visit happened to coincide with the annual New York Gay Pride Parade. This was new to us; unknown. So we joined the crowds that Sunday lunchtime on Seventh Avenue and watched, mouths agape, mesmerised, confused, amazed – and loved every minute of the brilliant, bizarre, exuberant spectacle that unfolded before us. It was lovely; outrageous, naughty, fun, and above all full of love. We cheered and we cheered. We watched amazed and in awe at how the NYPD skillfully and quietly “managed” the spectacle as it passed before us; we wouldn’t have missed it for the world and then (as still today) felt the better, more human, for being there, part of something so joyous and bigger than us; two lonely Brits in the turmoil that is New York we felt welcome and at home; two middle aged school teachers amongst this pageant of colour, innuendo, brash eroticism and above all friendship and love. 

But I remembered, too, a darker side to that wonderful occasion. As we stood cheering and laughing a middle aged lady standing beside us turned and in a southern drawl asked if we were from England – she had obviously heard us speaking. We said that we were and she then asked “Do you have this sort of thing in England”. We said yes, but we had never seen a parade like this before to which she sternly replied “It wouldn’t happen in my home in Texas and not on the Lord’s Day. The sheriff and his marshals would use their shot guns on the lot of them”. We didn’t know what to say. We edged away; It seemed then, but even more so now as I look at the world, that her hate is an easy path to follow when “difference” is involved. I get it that this lady found the notion of a gay pride parade alien to her – it was so for us – but how easily this turned to hate and ideas of shotguns worried me. And, further, it worried me that this lady felt she had “Christian values”, she talked of “the Lord’s day” – Mmmm! I wonder what happens when her Christian values collide with the Parable of the Good Samaritan and the shotguns of the Texas sheriff and his marshals? Presumably in this lady’s world had the traveller set upon by bandits and left for dead been gay then the Texan “Good Samaritan” would have had no truck with him and would have “passed by” on the road leaving the injured man to die.

It’s a worrying nonsense and a terrifying future to think about; I’ll stick with the butterflies  and their joyous flight together not the divisive hatred of black suited men wearing hoodies and balaclavas in Dover or Middlesbrough and I’ll say “Not in my name” to Andrew Tate or the Restore Party – or anyone else who comes knocking at my door. That’s not because I’m “brave” or think I’m right but because the path of division and hate that they are offering is, I know, with certainty the path the humankind’s destruction – and not what I want for my grandchildren.

And, as I cleaned my lawn mower and collected the grass cuttings I thought back to another event of the past few days – my mind following its usual tortuous and madcap wanderings from that long gone day at the New York Gay Pride Parade. A couple of nights ago Pat and I watched an exquisite TV programme - one of a series – where the great English classical actress Dame Judi Dench has “afternoon tea” with another great actor or actress. This episode saw the wonderful Judi Dench reminiscing and swapping anecdotes with the equally wonderful Sir Ian McKellen. In the programme Sir Ian talked a little of his life as a gay man and perhaps as a gay (my word) “icon” and campaigner. His is the sort of voice that one can listen to all day and as he spoke his warmth, love, passion and sincerity shone through -a far cry I thought from the abusive, wilfully ignorant and often expletive filled rants that we hear so much of today – on the streets of our cities and even from the mouth of the President of the United States of America.

And Sir Ian read an extract from a book that he treasured; it clearly spoke to him and as I listened it spoke to me. Obviously moved as he read, he had to stop to gather his thoughts, overcome I think by the words and what underpinned them; it was personal to him as a gay man and even to me, a “straight”, grey haired, ex-teacher, and fully paid up member of the “grumpy old mens’ society” its message seemed both right and timeless; it was about our very humanity. The extract  was from a book called “More Tales of the City” by American author Armistead Maupin and is a letter written by “Michael” to his mother telling her that he is gay; its words say all there is to say:

Dear Mama,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write. Every time I try to write to you and Papa I realize I'm not saying the things that are in my heart. That would be O.K., if I loved you any less than I do, but you are still my parents and I am still your child. I have friends who think I'm foolish to write this letter. I hope they're wrong. I hope their doubts are based on parents who loved and trusted them less than mine do. I hope especially that you'll see this as an act of love on my part, a sign of my continuing need to share my life with you.

 I wouldn't have written, I guess, if you hadn't told me about your involvement in the Save Our Children campaign. That, more than anything, made it clear that my responsibility was to tell you the truth, that your own child is homosexual, and that I never needed saving from anything except the cruel and ignorant piety of people like Anita Bryant.

I'm sorry, Mama. Not for what I am, but for how you must feel at this moment. I know what that feeling is, for I felt it for most of my life. Revulsion, shame, disbelief - rejection through fear of something I knew, even as a child, was as basic to my nature as the colour of my eyes. No, Mama, I wasn't "recruited." No seasoned homosexual ever served as my mentor. But you know what? I wish someone had. I wish someone older than me and wiser than the people in Orlando had taken me aside and said, "You're all right, kid. You can grow up to be a doctor or a teacher just like anyone else. You're not crazy or sick or evil. You can succeed and be happy and find peace with friends - all kinds of friends - who don't give a damn who you go to bed with. Most of all, though, you can love and be loved, without hating yourself for it." But no one ever said that to me, Mama. I had to find it out on my own, with the help of the city that has become my home.

I know this may be hard for you to believe, but San Francisco is full of men and women, both straight and gay, who don't consider sexuality in measuring the worth of another human being. These aren't radicals or weirdos, Mama. They are shop clerks and bankers and little old ladies and people who nod and smile to you when you meet them on the bus. Their attitude is neither patronizing nor pitying. And their message is so simple: Yes, you are a person. Yes, I like you. Yes, it's all right for you to like me, too. 

I know what you must be thinking now. You're asking yourself: What did we do wrong? How did we let this happen? Which one of us made him that way? I can't answer that, Mama. In the long run, I guess I really don't care. All I know is this: If you and Papa are responsible for the way I am, then I thank you with all my heart, for it's the light and the joy of my life. I know I can't tell you what it is to be gay. But I can tell you what it's not. It's not hiding behind words, Mama. Like family and decency and Christianity. It's not fearing your body, or the pleasures that God made for it. It's not judging your neighbour, except when he's crass or unkind. Being gay has taught me tolerance, compassion and humility. It has shown me the limitless possibilities of living. It has given me people whose passion and kindness and sensitivity have provided a constant source of strength. It has brought me into the family of man, Mama, and I like it here. I like it. 

There's not much else I can say, except that I'm the same Michael you've always known. You just know me better now. I have never consciously done anything to hurt you. I never will. Please don't feel you have to answer this right away. It's enough for me to know that I no longer have to lie to the people who taught me to value the truth.

Mary Ann sends her love. Everything is fine at 28 Barbary Lane.

Your loving son, Michael

Oh, that the black suited balaclava wearing “patriots” on England’s streets or the racist, misogynistic and homophobic influencers of the manosphere or the right wing media or the hateful trolls on social media could use or understand these words and what they convey. Those two little butterflies in their joyous union knew, I’m sure, about being together; they would have understood Michael when he wrote “Yes, you are a person. Yes, I like you. Yes, it's all right for you to like me, too.” – it’s called “being human”. It’s the same humanity that has been important to Pat and me in the last few weeks as we have clung to each other for mutual support and I cannot for the life of me understand  why so many in today’s world wish to abandon this basic human characteristic in favour of division and hate.

The late Archbishop Desmond Tutu knew a thing or two about division and hate having spent his life living and working in South Africa at the time of apartheid and he was clear about what it is to be human: "No one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his background, or his beliefs or his religion” he said. "Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies." He went on "A person is a person through other persons,  my humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together." Amen to that; but I do still wonder what has gone so profoundly wrong with modern man that so many prefer hate over love. For me, as my lovely wife and I of 57 years cling together in love and mutual support, I’ll stick with the "togetherness" and joyous unison of the butterflies, the exuberance and love of the Gay Pride Parade and the wisdom and sincerity of Sir Ian McKellen; they seem better options for the future and salvation humankind than black masked hateful “patriots” blocking our ports, the wilfully ignorant sneeringly cruel thugs bringing violence and  death to our cities' streets, or the Texas sheriffs with their shotguns bringing their message of hate to the world and justifying their actions by reciting “Christian values”. No, I will quietly think of the mighty words of poet John Donne speaking across the centuries from his Meditation XVII written in 1624 reminding us that as humans we are all part of the same body: 

"No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thine own

Or of thine friend's were.

Each man's death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee."

 

"Think on these things......"

In this excellent New Statesman article https://www.newstatesman.com/politics/society/2026/08/the-shaming-of-jason-arday (click on the link to read it) Dr Rowan Williams - the ex-Archbishop of Canterbury - explains that "A debased media culture and the fever-ridden jungle of online comment are just another iteration of habits deeply rooted in human society-building. We should not deceive ourselves into thinking that we have outgrown any of this.......If we witnessed the systematic bullying of a neurodiverse child in school, we should rightly be appalled and insist on protective strategies being in place. Have we arrived at a point where journalistic ethics expects less than an average primary school would?......"Do not fear the one who can kill the body,” says Christ in the Gospels, "but the one who can destroy body and soul......... The assault on Arday was an assault on his soul".

It's all that needs to be said on the Jason Arday affair. Dr Williams' voice of calm reason and compassion is a voice I would far prefer to listen to than the hacks in the Mail and the Telegraph and the online venomous mob.

Those savaging and mocking the late Jason Arday should pause for thought and remember another of Dr Williams' comments made when he was still Archbishop of Canterbury. He wisely and compassionately said "When I enter into a dialogue with a person from another culture or belief I am not out to change them, convince them that I am right, or secure their agreement with my point of view or belief, I want to understand them." Maybe the world would be a better place if we all sought to understand our fellow humans rather than mercilessly criticising or making ad hominem and dysphemistic attacks on them.

In Philippians 4 St Paul reminds us to "Think on these things": He tells us "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." Those responsible for the hounding of Jason Arday would do well to ponder those words and that advice.

The Dark & Nasty Underbelly of 2026 England

 

Much has been written and said in the past few weeks about the former Cambridge Professor Jason Arday and especially so in the last 48 hours following his apparent suicide. Mr Arday has been described variously as a Walter Mitty character, a fraud, a charlatan, a fantasist, a plagiarist, a liar, a crook, a narcissist and worse following a campaign begun by a disgraced ex-Cambridge academic Nathan Confas and taken up by the right wing press - most notably the Daily Mail and the Daily Telegraph; the coverage by the Mail has been a classic example of a comment by its owner, Lord Northcliffe many years ago. When asked by a Parliamentary Committee why his newspaper was so successful Lord Northcliffe replied: 'I give my readers a daily hate.' The campaign against Arday has without doubt been a campaign of hate dressed up in self righteous cant and hypocrisy. Now, following Arday's apparent suicide many of his former critics are running for cover, deleting posts, or casting a wider net of blame on to, for example Cambridge University, other institutions with which Mr Arday was associated and, bizarrely, diversity, equality and inclusion programmes and policies.

In the final analysis none of us - and certainly not those responsible for the pernicious public shaming of Mr Arday on social media or on the front pages the national press - yet know the truth of any of this. Perhaps Mr Arday was a plagiarist, or a fantasist. Perhaps, as some suggest, he had some kind of mental health problem or maybe autism may have played a role. Perhaps he was motivated by dubious intentions as some say. But none of us know. What we do know is that this man has been tried and found guilty in the court of public opinion, a court that draws its conclusions not upon proven facts but upon hear-say, prejudice, unsubstantiated assertions, and on Lord Northcliffe's "daily hate".

Many of Mr Arday's "supporters" suggest that his shaming is rooted in racism - that had he been a white academic accused of plagiarism then the "story" would never have got any further than the dreaming spires of Oxbridge; it would have been a non-story and of no interest to the Mail, the Telegraph or wider social media. Again, I don't know if this has any truth, but in thinking of it I am reminded of a quote by U.S. President Lyndon Johnson: "If you can convince the lowest white man he's better than the best coloured man, he won't notice you're picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he'll empty his pockets for you.” In the unpleasant and febrile world of England 2026, when issues of immigration, asylum seeking, anti-Muslim (and other "non-Christian" faiths) sentiment is fuelling the national psyche and is implicit in the policies of the Reform and Restore Parties, and much of the Conservative Party the issue of race cannot be dismissed or ignored as a factor in driving public opinion and the unpleasant and often violent actions and events that we have seen on England's streets in recent months. In short for a young black man to be appointed as a Professor at Cambridge seems to have been too bitter a pill to swallow for many. Indeed, Nathan Confas, one of Mr Arday's leading critics was dismissed from his Cambridge position in 2024 for writing that black people are less intelligent than white - it was from that point that Mr Confas began his campaign against the newly installed Professor Arday. Mr Confas may or may not be right in his views and accusations but what cannot be denied is that they have introduced the element of race into the equation and that, it appears to me, has fed into a level of hate that has culminated in the death of a man. "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" goes the manifestly untrue old aphorism; words do hurt, and their hurt often lasts longer than broken ones. The hurt of hateful or angry words eats into the mind and the soul, it can be the driver of much anxiety and anger throughout the lives of many people. In Mr Arday's case his vilification and public humiliation, it seems became too much; words cannot be unsaid and when blazed in black and white across the front pages of major newspapers or on every other social media post then they have the potential to kill. Not one of us knows the truth of the allegations and comments about Mr Arday; he has been judged and found guilty not in a Court of Law but in the Court of Prejudiced Hypocrisy. And worse, even after his death posts on social media are mocking and making coarse and crude jokes about this man; "He'll rise after three days and win the Boat Race in a kayak" being one such immature and unpleasant comment. I've heard that sort of thing before from the edge of the playground where the school bullies stand and pick on those younger or weaker than themselves. England should be ashamed for what is being said by many and doubly ashamed because we are no longer ashamed of things that used to shame us.

I would suggest that all who have jumped on the bandwagon of vengeful condemnation against Mr Arday when nothing has been proved and, to date, no law broken, should perhaps broaden their world and read the tales of the ancient Greek tragedian Aeschylus - especially his mighty trilogy "Oresteia". The tale is a dire warning of the consequences of hate and vengeance as a means of seeking or handing out "justice", and the tale's outcome is the basis of our modern system of justice - a fair trial rather than continual revenge against those who have offended us. We owe a huge debt to Aeschylus, the ancient Greek who through his tale gave us one of the great cornerstones of our civilisation. Whatever the rights and wrongs, the "crimes" or the fantasies of Jason Arday he has been judged and found guilty by a lynch mob - and that cannot be right nor can it be allowed to go unchallenged.

But, for me there is another dimension to all this - and it's all about context.

If Jason Arday is, indeed, "guilty" of the "crimes" of which he is "charged", if he did "cheat", if he did plagiarise academic research, or lie about things he had done or the life he had lived, is he so very different than many (most?) of us in this modern world?

My wife and I go, two or three times a year, to our favourite hotel - the Langstone Cliff - in Dawlish, Devon. If we walk down to the sea we pass a few shops selling beach items and outside one is a sign advertising their hand printed T shirts each bearing the logo " Old Guys Rule! The older I get the better I was!". I always laugh at this - because deep down I know it's true. Humans naturally impose a narrative structure onto the often random or chaotic events that make up our lives - we do this to make sense of them. Without these constructed meanings—such as finding a moral lesson in a tragedy—the randomness of existence, over which we have little control, would be overwhelming. We all live our lives through the narrative we invent about ourselves; about our childhood, our successes and failures, our career, our relationships and we perceive and tell ourselves and others that tale in such a way that not only makes us feel good but enables us to cope with the reality of life. If, for example, we get fired from our job we tell ourselves and others "It allowed me a different career path". When our grades aren't good enough to get us into our favoured university we make light of this by choosing somewhere else and tell ourselves it will open up a better set of opportunities. Most of us don't beat ourselves up every day because of the many failures and down sides of our daily lives but emphasise the good and better sides; in short we might not lie to ourselves and others but we do paint the best picture possible, we tell our story, the story of how we want it or need it to be. Now as an 81 year old when I tell my grandchildren about events in my life I am very aware that I paint a picture that although factually true also shows me in my best light: "the older I get the better I was!"

And in this increasingly AI/digitally/social media dominated world I would suggest that few of us do not "gild the lily" in some way - albeit sometimes unintentionally; none of us want to appear stupid or ugly or "ordinary"; we want to present to the world our best self. Each time I post something on Facebook I can't deny that I get a small "buzz" when someone "likes" my post; the chemical messenger dopamine in my brain is at work telling me to do this again, I like it. A middle aged neighbour of mine posts AI altered images of herself looking younger and more glamorous and people click the "like" button. AI and digital technology is allowing everyone to create their own alter ego. All of this, of course, might be fairly harmless but potentially it is not, as we know it has unintended consequences.

We often read of the mental health problems especially of teenagers. Frequently this is attributed to the use and impact of social media. Young people read posts on Facebook or other platforms and it appears to their immature eyes that others seem better looking, live wonderful lives surrounded by fascinating people, have permanently happy families, have a huge following of good looking friends, or are cleverer with more life opportunities......the list goes on. And they look at their own lives, which seem humdrum, ordinary, dull.......and their mental health plummets.

We are increasingly living in a world that does not really exist; social media creates an alternative ego, a digital story that we can project about ourselves - or what we would like to be - a place where we can "live" and be something other than our real selves, where we can be in some way someone or something better. And it's all part of the same package that surrounds the events that have led up to the sad and unnecessary death of Jason Arday.

And here for me is the killer. The ultimate alter ego platform where people can unashamedly and shamelessly project their alter ego, their ideal self, is the career networking platform "LinkedIn". I wonder how many of those who vilified Mr Arday for his alleged narcissistic fantasies have "LinkedIn" accounts? Here, one can read and see millions projecting not just their image but their "qualifications", their driving career and personal "passions", their unique "talents" and their fevered ambitions in minute, coruscating and dreadful detail; it is saying "Look at me, I'm special, I'm who you need in your business" - in fact not unlike what Jason Arday is accused of. It is a networking site filled with egos, narcissism and much "gilding of the lily". I do not suggest that people tell lies about themselves but I do suggest that - as we all do - it allows people to paint the best picture of themselves, to take small professional events in their lives and make them bigger or more important in order that they are perceived as more employable, better people. Mr Arday was not alone in his alleged quest to be noticed and thought well of. It's all part of the context and the hypocrisy of contemporary English life and the Jason Arday story.

I do not know why Mr Arday appears to have told the tales he did. I do not know if he was wrongly promoted to a Professor at one of the world's great universities. I do not know if he intentionally told lies or whether he was a victim of some condition that made him prone to exaggerating his status or abilities. I do not know if he plagiarised academic theses or ran marathons with broken leg. But, I do know that he is now dead and that he was perniciously and publicly shamed by those who should know better. And further, I do know that none of the things that are alleged about him are necessarily criminal acts and punishable by death. And I wonder? - if the newspaper "hacks" at the Mail and the Telegraph or the thousands who have piled onto social media to cast their shameful comments are so concerned about men who fantasise, tell "lies", are narcissistic or break the law why are they not pouring out their hateful bile upon Boris Johnson who consistently and openly lied to the British electorate or perhaps the President of the United States who is all of those things and more? Could it be that they are intimidated by Johnson or Trump, fearful of a legal action for millions of pounds being brought against them by their lawyers - or is it just easier to wreak their bile and vengeance upon a young academic? Or, worse, is it because this particular young academic has had the temerity to seek and be appointed to a Professorship at Cambridge and is also black. I hope not, but I fear it might be so.

But, all this apart, in the end a young man is dead - probably at his own hand, either intentionally or in error. And for what? A matter that in the great scheme of things is, to coin a phrase, only of academic interest to a very few people and certainly not worthy of the non-stop national media coverage that has occurred in recent weeks; it is a dreadfully fabricated piece of hate inspired journalism and rhetoric. The Daily Mail's Lord Northcliffe would be proud. I've never met Jason Arday and deep down I think that, for whatever reason, he probably did "gild the lily" to further his career and enrich his CV - but I also know that he did not deserve to die; he did not deserve the opprobrium heaped upon him. His death and the manner in which it was achieved by the haters and the self righteous vengeance seekers lessened us all; it tells us much about 21st century English society. It exposes the dark underbelly of a nation and we should all feel the shame that Jason Arday presumably felt in the last hours of his life. And I am reminded of the powerful words of English poet John Donne speaking across the centuries from his Meditation XVII written in 1624:

"No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thine own

Or of thine friend's were.

Each man's death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee."

"Each man's death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind" - Amen to that. The hacks at the Mail and the Telegraph and the vengeance seekers on social media should think on John Donne's words - for perhaps one day they too will suffer the public shaming heaped upon Jason Arday, a young man who, like Icarus, boastfully ignored advice and convention, and chose to fly too near to the sun.

"A House Divided Against Itself Cannot Stand"

 

"Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?" asked Jack Kerouac in his novel, "On the Road" - a book that changed the world and me when I read it soon after it was published in1957. Kerouac's tale questioned the soul and direction of 1950s America with its emphasis upon wealth, consumerism, and the chasing of the American Dream. One might paraphrase Kerouac's question for the America of today and ask "Why goest thou, America, in thy shiny car, into the dark", for America, the richest and most powerful nation on Earth is fast entering a new dark age - and all of its own making. The malevolent actions of Trump, America's GOP and the recent witch hunt against Dr Fauci prove the truth of German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer's comment over a century ago that "If you want to reach a large audience, appeal to idiots."  America, it seems, has a very large audience of easily led idiots waiting to be reached out to by those of evil intent - Rand Paul, Robert Kennedy, Pete Hegseth and the rest of the mendacious demagogues who hold sway in Washington 2026. Dark times indeed for a nation once revered but now, across the world, untrusted and ridiculed in the court of public opinion.

The situation is bad enough here in the UK - we have our own brand of the wilfully ignorant and the plain nasty in the rag-bag supporters of Nigel Farage and the wider right - but I fear America has long passed the point of no return. But this is not about Trump, Paul, Kennedy Jnr. or any other individual or policy. It's about the mindset of America and something there has gone profoundly wrong. It seems impossible to me, as an 81 year old, to look at the USA - a nation who produced leaders and ideas that shaped and improved the world - and wonder what has happened to the wisdom (how old fashioned that word now seems) and good intentions that once drove Lincoln, Roosevelt, Kennedy, Carter, Obama and others. What has happened to Lincoln's moral steadfastness or LBJ's "Great Society"? Where now are the men and women who govern with the humility and integrity of Jimmy Carter or share the vision and empathy of FDR or the soaring promise of Obama? Would JFK's plea to "Ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country" now fall upon deaf ears in 2026 America? I fear so. The words and ideas that once inspired generations in America and across the world seem now redundant, replaced by brutal, shameless lies, stupidity and foul mouthed expletives on social media and from the lips  of America's current "leaders". Those statesmen of the past became leaders not because of any superiority or brilliance but because their wisdom and commitment to the common good was recognised and shared by the American electorate of yesteryear who gave them the power to act in their name. A nation gets the leaders it deserves; leaders reflect those who elect them and America's current leaders are a damning reflection upon America today. Roosevelt, in his Inaugural Address in 1937 said "The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little" . His words would, I suspect, get short shrift in today's White House and be howled down as being "woke" or "communist fake news" by the coarse, the wilfully ignorant and the shameless across swathes of Republican America. The world should weep - and Americans should take a long hard look at themselves; their nation has become a disintegrating society, and soon a failed state.

In America, and here in the UK, so many have forgotten or ignore basic lessons of adulthood. Firstly, they have not listened to or understood, two of American author Mark Twain's aphorisms: "It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt" and secondly. "Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured". In America, as the philippic against Dr Fauci confirms, many, through their actions, words and thoughts, are proud of what they once would have been, or now should be, ashamed. Posts on social media and what I read and see in the wider media spewing from the mouths of Trump and his sycophantic followers speak volumes about their mindset and lack of shame.

And shame matters. In our hi-tech, anything goes, 24 hour news, social media driven world the word shame seems passé, twee; a word our grandparents used when we were naughty children. But when an individual or a society loses its sense of shame it is in a downward spiral, for it is also losing its sense of decency, worthy human values and capacity for just action. It is what happened in 1930s Germany - ordinary Germans did shameful things that a few years before would have horrified them; I wonder how long it will be before we witness the Republican Party's version of Nazi Germany's Kristallnacht? Loss of shame weakens the moral "glue" which binds society together and returns a society to the law of the jungle. The ancient Greek statesman Thucydides told his world in his work “The Peloponnesian War” that in a world where anything goes, where the winner takes all and where right is defined by might then "The strong do what they will and the weak suffer what they must". Written almost 3000 years ago Thucydides' treatise sets out principles of military strategy, diplomacy, high politics and the use of power and is required study for officers in training leading military colleges such as America’s West Point, Britain’s Sandhurst, or France’s Saint Cyr. It is as relevant today as it was when he wrote it and he would recognise what is now happening in America, and know its inevitable consequences. In a world where the powerful do what they will, where shameful, cruel or immoral words or deeds become acceptable then decency, integrity and justice lose all meaning and the weak have to "suffer what they must".

It is in the losing of these values - not outside threats or war - that empires and civilisations crumble and die; they rot from within. When people choose ignorance over wisdom, hate and rage over love, lies over truth, or act in a way contrary to the common good then they condemn their society to a dark age. When an abdication of responsibility or egregious and pernicious words become embedded and normalised in society the body politic is in terminal decline; it has happened throughout history. And this is what is occuring in the akrasic mindset of 2026 America. America - and my own England - must grasp one of the profound lessons of history, one that we were warned of from the pen of English philosopher Thomas Hobbes in "Leviathan" his mighty treatise on government. Hobbes warned that when good government, to which all are bound and committed, fails, then the law of the jungle becomes embedded - as is now happening in the divisive world of American politics and society. The result, and speaking from his own experience, Hobbes told us that life becomes "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short". His warning has echoed down the centuries and been proved time and time again across the world. Beware America your nation is on a pathway to social chaos and civil destruction where all will suffer and from which there will be little reprieve. A new President or government might give short term respite but the root of the problem lies in the hearts and minds of millions of Americans. Trump and his demagogues are merely the personification of those millions; America's fissiparous and embittered body politic is corrupted. It will not heal easily nor end well.

In 1858, as America tumbled towards Civil War, Republican President to be Abraham Lincoln cautioned his nation "A house divided against itself cannot stand"; ignore Lincoln's wise words America and your children your grandchildren will not judge you kindly.

"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.