Naive? Pathetic? Silly? Yes, And Worth Every Penny!

Well, not once in last night’s Bob Dylan concert in Nottingham did I sit and think to myself sadly of the spent £140 for our two tickets to see the show! (Blog: “And you never ask questions when God’s on your side” http://arbeale.blogspot.com/2011/07/and-you-never-ask-questions-when-gods.html ). I’d do it again tomorrow! Worth every penny. And, as we sat high in the Nottingham Arena with almost 10000 others looking down at the distant stage, teeth vibrating with the ear bursting sound from the backing group the one thing that kept coming into my mind was here I was, Joe Public, having the opportunity to share the same few feet of the planet’s surface with one of the age’s great icons.

Perhaps younger people or those of a less idealistic bent would have taken it all in their stride – after all, what is there to it?  You pay your money, get your ticket and see the show. End of story. And that’s true. Except to my warped mind I see it a little differently. Let me explain why – and if any of my family read this, they will immediately recognise my line of argument! So to them I apologise for revisiting old ground.

Knopfler and Dylan together a few years ago
- when Knopfler still had hair!

People of my generation  have lived through 60 years of relative peace and increasing wealth. My mother in law, Winnie Green - a woman of huge compassion and great wisdom - often said (and especially as she approached her 90th year) that no other generation could have lived through so much change as her generation. She was right – horse drawn carriages to computers, a world ever smaller as travel became easier, corner shops becoming great supermarkets. If her comments were true, then I also believe that it is equally true to say that no other  generation – we “Baby Boomers” -  has had the opportunities for success and self improvement  that mine has had – increasing wealth, access to education, access to information in various forms, increased health prospects and many others. True there are, and continue to be, many disgraceful exceptions to this rule but overall vast numbers of people growing up in post war Britain, and indeed much of the remainder of the western world have had opportunities and  a way of life their parents and grandparents could not have even dreamt of.

And I have been incredibly lucky – I’m not “wealthy”, not famous, I’ve spent my life teaching in a classroom rather than some more glamorous occupation, never mixed with the rich and famous or the shakers and movers of the world. But, like very many of my generation I have been increasingly able to do things that only a very few years ago would have been quite out of the question for an ordinary person.

Dylan (right) on the keyboard - a distant view from my seat.

Some years ago, my wife and I overheard a youngster  - I think a University friend of my son or daughter – listing all the places they had visited on the earth’s surface and at the same time outlining those still yet to be seen. It was discussed  in a matter of fact way and carried the implicit assumption that it was quite reasonable, the natural order of things, that trips abroad, experiencing exotic events were quite part of a person’s right and reasonable expectations.

But not for me. If someone had told me, when I was a child living in the back street of a northern industrial town  in a tiny house with no hot water or inside lavatory, that one day I would sit on an elephant’s shoulders as it strode through the bush in Sri Lanka. Or that I would stand in New York’s Central Park and look down at the memorial to one of the world’s great icon’s, John Lennon. Or that I would stand at dawn and watch the sun rise over Ayres Rock, and at the same time drink white wine in a dawn picnic - then I would never have believed it. Nearer to home I have sat in the Royal Shakespeare Theatre at Stratford on Avon an many occasions; I have been able to see the world’s great shows in the West End. In a few week’s time I will sit and watch one of the world’s great operas, Madam Butterfly, here in Nottingham and just before Christmas I will sit in the Thomaskirche in Leipzig and listen to  the Christmas Oratorio performed in the place where Bach wrote it three centuries ago.

I could go on. The point is that I have been very lucky – and so too, for the most part, has been my generation. There may be all sorts of issues and criticisms of we “Baby Boomers” – “the generation that had it all” I read of us being so  described  the other day. And it cannot be denied – but that doesn’t prevent me being amazed, humbled and grateful for the opportunities that I have had.

One of the few bits of audience interaction - a quick final bow!

So, back to Bob Dylan. As anyone who read my recent blog (“You never ask questions when God’s on  your side”) will know, I was looking forward to it but hesitant and a little worried that seeing Dylan would not live up to my expectations, that my £140 for our tickets would seem wasted.. But no, it was not wasted - it hugely surpassed my expectations.

This was not the Dylan of protest. It was not the Dylan who motivated a generation to go out and change the world. It was not the Dylan that I remember  exciting me as young trainee teacher in the mid sixties when at the college folk club,held each Tuesday night in the skittle alley of the "Man of Trent" pub in Clifton, Nottingham, I first heard “Masters of War” or “With God on our Side”. This was a growling Dylan singing the blues with an ultra loud band behind him. It was a Dylan dressed virtually all in black with a wide brimmed hat shading his face on a dimly lit set aggressively  barking at the words. But it was Dylan – the man who half a century after his fame as a folk poet had inspired and been the back drop to changing the world – has this year been one of the major contenders for the Nobel Literature prize. Some of the old favourites from “Highway 61 Revisited” were beaten out and the evening ended with one of my favourites “Don’t Think Twice it’s All Right” and what I once read described as arguably the greatest song ever written, “Like a Rolling Stone”. Listening to some of these – all of which I have on CD – I was again taken back to my college days – the guy on the next room borrowed my copies of the Dylan LPs “The Freewheelin Bob Dylan” and “Highway 61 Revisited” . We swapped LPs for a few weeks – Dylan in exchange for his favourites “The Beachboys” – and I never got mine back. I’ve never forgiven him!

And, as I said above and hoped for before the concert, here I was sharing something with one of the world’s great icons –  and getting excited about it! Naive? Pathetic? Silly? – yes all of these - but still true. And worth every penny and more!

Knopfler in full flight

And, of course, it wasn’t only Dylan. He was sharing the show with Mark Knoplfer of Dire Straits one of my very favourite groups and, like Dylan, part of my life – a group and their music that will always be associated with my children growing up in the 80s. For me too Knopfler and Dire Staits will always be associated with a sad tale which is probably best left as the subject of another blog. But, briefly, when I was teaching one of the children in my class and who had gone through the school was a boy who had a rare form of cancer from birth. He  was about 10 and everyone knew he would not live beyond his early teens. Dad was a keen amateur guitarist and played in local pubs. He taught Paul to play – the lad had a great talent for it  and when we had discos at school Paul and dad would play for the disco – Rock and Roll.  Dad wrote to Dire Straits and asked if they could supply autographed pictures of Paul’s heroes . They did more – Paul was invited to London to watch them record and a relationship was built up. And when Paul died a year or two later there were many tears in the church when a tape was played of Knopfler and the group singing – the group were touring in the USA but a huge wreath and the tape had been sent. There’s more to it than that – but perhaps that is for another blog. The main thing is that, music apart, Knopfler has always come over as a nice guy  - a thinking man, with something rather more to offer. And so it was last night – the audience were with him. It was as much the man as his music that they were cheering.

Knopfler has the audience in his hands

I have seen him before and he  was again superb. Like Dylan he has moved on since his Dire Straits days but the sound was still there. Yes, the rock, blues underpins everything but now more folky type music – fiddles and flutes, a distinctly Celtic sound. Had you entered the Arena unknowing you would have still instantly recognised  the sound of Dire Straits and the  distinctive  Knopfler. He  looks more a middle aged gent now – no longer sporting  the head band -  than a rock star but the sound in unmistakable. Like Dylan there was much of his newer stuff  but towards the end he launched into “Brothers in Arms” – the signature song from the CD – the fifth best selling CD in UK history and then from the same CD “So Far Away” – and the audience approved wildly! But perhaps the song that took the evening – certainly for me and many others was a new one “Privateering” – Knopfler at his best. I‘ll look for this on any new CDs brought out. It’s not just me saying how good it is – looking at the reviews on the web many others think the same: “If this doesn’t get him his knighthood then nothing will” was representative of many.

"So far away" - sang Knopfler, and he was!

It’s perhaps worth mentioning the big difference (for me – and I think for many others) between the two performers. Knopfler came over, as I say, a nice guy – he related to the audience, acknowledged them. Dylan didn’t. Aloof, little or no dialogue – and that which there was, at the very end of the show was unintelligible. Some found this disconcerting and a failing. I suppose it was – but, and I think this is important – I think that is one of the essentials of Dylan’s character. It’s what makes him tick. It’s the same trait that has allowed him to write the scathingly biting verse and songs that he has. A rejection of convention and the accepted codes of life. That is not to  minimise his aloofness or to  justify it, but to recognise that that is the man. Indeed, as I watched him I mused what it must be like when he wakes each morning in some strange hotel room in some far off city and think to himself “I’m Bob Dylan”. Like John Lennon his every word picked over as people look for some pearl of wisdom and insight – or some stick to beat him with.  To walk through the hotel’s reception or sit in its dining room and to be aware – not in  a boastful way – that he is one of the very few people in the world who is ultra famous and has been rightly or wrongly a shaper of the world and its opinions for the past half century. Combine that with the fact that his renown is built upon his rebelliousness and rejection of convention and I can understand a certain measure of aloofness. No, what we saw was Dylan.

Dylan 2011 - still the rebel and rejecter of the expected

And I suppose that brings me back to where I started. It was simply great to be part of it. When we arrived at the Nottingham Arena ticket touts stood outside asking if we would sell our tickets! When we took our seats high on the tiered balcony we looked down on a sea of people. It must be said that this was not a teenage audience – although there were many youngsters there, by far the audience was filled with greying people of our generation – many having some difficulty to mount the steep steps to the upper seats! But, like me they had come to see two of the icons of the last fifty years  - and I think everyone must have gone home happy.

And as I climbed into bed, my head still thumping and buzzing from the volume I thought again how, fifty years ago when I stood with my college friends in the skittle alley at the “Man of Trent” pub on Clifton estate in Nottingham, where every Tuesday night we used to hold our folk evenings, I would never have imagined and believed that one day I would see Dylan for real – if only from a long way away and in a vast auditorium filled with almost  10,000 others. No, we really have been the generation of opportunity and so very, very lucky.

And You Never Ask Questions When God’s On Your Side!

 I don’t know why people ‘blog’ – I suppose we each have our own personal reasons. For me, as someone who has always written lists and found it helpful to write things down when I am considering a problem – professional or personal – I find blogging helps me to clarify my thoughts or line of argument. I suppose that, by definition, anyone who blogs or writes articles in a newspaper or writes a book will be writing about something close to their heart and which has some relevance to them. It will, for some reason be something that they feel strongly about or which impacts on their  lives  in some significant way. Certainly, this is true for me - whether  others agree with me is, of course, a different matter!

In that context I have had on my potential blog list, for many months, the subject of today’s commentary (rant!?). In truth, I have kept putting it off – not because of any uncertainty or lack of enthusiasm,  but rather because I fear it might grow to be a very long blog and open a “can of worms”!

But, in the last week or so a number of events seem to have come together which have prompted me to air my views – the dreadful events in Norway of the last few days, an e-mail response to a blog that  that I recently  wrote, a small, unimportant happening in the Yorkshire Dales and booking tickets to see Bob Dylan! So, what of these disparate events and what thoughts have they forced into my mind?

Dylan and Baez - the voices of protest
and change

Bob Dylan is coming to Nottingham. As a rather tight fisted pensioner I found it hard to stump up the £70 per ticket for my wife and I to go and see this legend. I know I will be disappointed (although, of course, I hope not) - I know that Dylan at seventy (and a man  who has changed his musical style many times) is not the icon that he was to my generation of the 60s. I know that half way through the concert I will sadly think of my departed £140. But, forget that  – I will have seen Bob Dylan in the flesh – a voice I grew up with and was without doubt one of the formative sounds and features of my life and beliefs. Even if he stands silent on the stage I will be sharing the same space – ultimately worth every penny! I don’t know what he will sing but pray that some of the seminal sounds echo around the arena  - Mr Tambourine Man, The times they are a changin’, Don’t think twice it’s alright, Like a rolling stone, Masters of war, With God on our side................. songs that both defined a generation and changed the world forever.

The second event happened in Yorkshire a week or two ago. We were enjoying a few days on the beautiful Yorkshire Dales, combining it with attending a friend’s wedding. One day we visited Bolton Abbey – a lovely ruined abbey in stunning surroundings. As we walked through the grounds we passed a group of Asian people – an Indian family out for the day. They were taking a group photograph and as always happens one person – he taking the photo – could not be on it. I offered to take a picture of the whole group which they gladly accepted and saying “cheese” I snapped their smiling faces with the abbey ruin in the background. A perfectly ordinary thing. They thanked me and we went our different  ways.

But these two innocent and everyday (if seeing Dylan can be called “everyday”!) events  have become entwined with other events of my past week or two. Let me explain.

Bolton Abbey

A couple of weeks ago I received an e-mail from America – from a lady unknown to me  called Elizabeth Potter. I assume that Ms Potter had read one of my blogs and her kind e-mail mentioned what she called  the  “hostile” climate faced by many Muslims in the US following the 9/11 events. Now, I don’t have any direct knowledge of this – so I cannot (nor should I) comment – but Ms Potter referred me to a web site (http://myfellowamerican.us/)  which contained a short video. I watched the video which seemed to be a tirade of hate and invective – by both ordinary and prominent people  aimed at Muslims and people from other cultures. Again, I would stress that I cannot and will not comment upon views held by another nation, but what I heard was,  to say the least,  unpleasant and worrying. It reminded me of the sort of thing that we hear from our own National Front. The web site referred to by Ms Potter seemed to provide a positive opportunity for ordinary Americans to voice their more positive views about the cultural mix of their nation. I posted a short item on the site.

And then a few days ago the small country of Norway – a squeaky clean place, the envy of many because of its apparent social harmony  - hit the world’s headlines for all the wrong reasons. Many reasons have been given for the events, many words used to describe the actions of the killer but in the end whatever the facts we are in the realms of hate, extremism, retribution, intolerance and terror. Exactly what I had heard on the video only  few days previously.

You may now begin to see where I am going with this: issues of hate, extremism, cultural and religious intolerance on the world stage when only  a few days before I was taking photographs of a smiling family from a very different ethnic and cultural background to my own and probably who held very different religious affiliations. And yet this family, although from a different world to mine were doing the same ordinary things that we all do – enjoying a day out, taking a photograph of a happy day,  smiling when the photographer says ‘cheese’, smiling their thanks for my actions – all very normal.  The were just members of the human race doing what ordinary people do every day. In the dark recesses of my mind I began to feel the need to set my thoughts in order – where does hate and extremism fit into this equation? And, where does Bob Dylan fit in? 


Well, I don’t know what Dylan will sing in October but when I see him on the stage in my mind I will be going back to a night almost half a century ago, soon after I began to train to be a teacher. Each Tuesday night there was a folk club at the college. It was the early 60’s and protest was in the air – everyone  wanted to be Dylan or Joan Baez. The Beatles and the Rolling Stones were only just  reaching their zenith. And one Tuesday night in that folk club  I heard for the first time “With God On Our Side” – not sung by Dylan, but by one of the students. To coin a phrase, it blew my mind. At the first opportunity I bought the LP so  I could listen to Dylan sing it – it has remained my favourite Dylan throughout the years  and no matter how many times I hear it still believe it has a message for today and is thought provoking. It is a song about war, hate, extremism  and unthinking patriotism and blind religious zeal. It is thought provoking even if you disagree with its sentiments.

Christian terrorist?

In this morning’s New Statesman (29^th July 2012) Peter Wilby makes some very pertinent and potentially controversial  points about the Norwegian incident. Sadly, he is exactly correct in his analysis. He says: “When an attack comes from people with brown skins......it is ‘Islamic Terrorism’ and part of a worldwide conspiracy to overthrow civilisation as we know it. Brown skinned folk must be closely monitored and Islam’s books ...closely scrutinised for anything that appears to encourage or excuse violent acts......any Muslim killer is potentially an al-Qaeda agent,  When a Nordic white supremacist kills scores of Norwegians our responses are instinctively different....  Anders Breivik is an unhinged loner and misfit. The category of ‘Christian terrorist’ does not exist so neither the Archbishop of Canterbury nor the Pope is called upon to dissociate himself........” As I read Wilby’s comments I thought back to that ordinary Indian family on their day out in the Dales – they were not intent on destroying civilisation they were like me enjoying a day out and Bolton Abbey was a better place for the three ladies all in their brightly coloured saris. In a wonderful piece of irony, the thousand year history of Bolton Abbey began to fade with the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII in 1539 – the destruction of a Christian place of worship because a Christian King was in dispute with the Christian Church of Rome! Unmitigated extremism, hate and prejudice – given  a veneer of political “respectability” by a politician. Come to think of it it’s not far removed from the warped reasoning that has been used to justify the “war on terror” or indeed some comments made recently by our own Prime Minister.

  

Only a few months ago our own PM, David Cameron pronounced that we needed a new kind of “muscular liberalism” and that a policy of “multiculturalism” had failed. A few weeks prior to that Chancellor Merkel in Germany had made much the same claim. Now I’m not sure what all these ‘isms’ mean – indeed, I could argue that nor does David Cameron – but that’s another blog! What I am sure of is that when David Cameron says (as he said in February)  that multiculturalism had weakened Britain’s collective identity and helped to make young British Muslims vulnerable to extremist ideologies and  that European governments needed to build stronger national identities that rejected “passive tolerance” in favour of “a more active, muscular liberalism” then I am immediately suspicious. Cameron went on to say: A genuinely liberal country....... believes in certain values and actively promotes them.  Freedom of speech.  Freedom of worship.  Democracy.  The rule of law.  Equal rights regardless of race, sex or sexuality.  It says to its citizens: this is what defines us as a society.  To belong here is to believe in these things.  Each of us in our own countries must be unambiguous and hard-nosed about this defence of our liberty.”

It would be very difficult to argue with these sentiments, and deep down I believe that Cameron is well intentioned but my worry is that using Cameron’s criteria I guess the Norwegian  killer Anders Breivik believed he was being ‘unambiguous and hard-nosed’ about defending his society’s liberty. His links with the Knights Templar, Freemasonry, anti - Islamic groups and other institutions and bodies illustrates well that throughout history, extremism and hatred has crossed  international boundaries and religions. The Norwegian tragedy underlined what every thinking person knew – that hatred and extremism is not the preserve of al Qaeda or any other religion. It is alive and well within elements of  Christianity.  I’m sure, too, that Breivik, described as a ‘fundamentalist Christian’-  was trying to reinforce what, to use David Cameron’s words,  ‘defined’ his society. Presumably this meant his  society’s perceived Christian values as well as political. Similarly, the invective and hatred I listened to as I watched the American video was, I am sure, profoundly believed by those who spoke it and represented their passionately held views.

Orangemen as I remember them -
 pure unadulterated  prejudice. Even
as a child I recognised it

Throughout the centuries when religion and politics become enmeshed the result is extremism. When  David Cameron, a politician, begins to make pronouncements on these, however well meaning, he should take very great care. Whether it be ancient Rome and the persecution of Christians, the bloody wars of the Crusades, the politics of sixteenth century England, the years of sectarian strife in Ireland or indeed the ‘war on terror’ the cause and the result is always the same - hatred and extreme actions.

 To take just one first hand  example from my own life. In past decades, in the UK we have witnessed terror and extremism emanating from Northern Ireland. Indeed, as  a child growing up in a Lancashire town I well remember each Whit Monday being a day of “parades” when it was not unusual for violence to flare up between   the various denominations in the town.  The churches ‘walked’ through the streets with their banners and flags. This would start at early morning and go on all day. There was often fear of trouble between the respective groups – C of E, Catholic, Orangemen, Methodists etc - all vying to put on the best parade with marching bands. Each year different churches were allowed to ‘walk first’ so that everyone had a fair chance. I was never allowed to watch the Catholics who were considered by my mother to be beyond the pale! But, I was always taken to see the Orangemen with their banners, drums, bowler hats, medals and sashes. These were “good people” I was told – they kept the Catholics and the Irish “in their place” mother would often say. I can vividly remember mother telling me, as we watched the Orangemen ‘walk’, sporting their orange sashes and swinging their banners, that if it wasn’t for the Orangemen we’d be "overrun by Catholics and Irish tinkers!” I spent a long time as a child trying very hard to work out the significance of banners showing a long dead king called ‘Billy’ fighting  in a river (the Boyne) in Ireland. It didn’t seem very relevant to my life in a Lancashire cotton town and I wondered why these nasty Catholics had to be “kept in their place” – some of my best friends, who I played with on a daily basis were Catholics! For me, however, I watched these middle aged and elderly men all dressed in black with grim faces and black bowler hats and found them rather frightening and disconcerting and totally out of place. In the years since the 1960s as ‘the troubles’ flared in Northern Ireland I have often looked at Orangemen like Ian Paisley and thought “you are the cause of the violence”. I do not condone the IRA but I can understand it – such an irrational hatred was visible on the streets of Preston all those years ago.  What has happened in Norway and what I heard on the video confirms that it is still alive and well today – and that it is not unique to nasty Muslims or Palestinians or Jews or Sikhs or Hindus or any other nation or religion. It is very much part of our own national make up and thinking and is rife in god fearing Christians as Anders Breivik has shown.

I do not blame religion for this.  I know of no religion which advocates violence and retribution as a justifiable course of action. It seems to me that all the world’s major religion are pretty unanimous in preaching a broadly similar message of peace, love, goodwill and tolerance. I am no expert but Jesus posed the question “Who was the good neighbour?” after telling the story of the Good Samaritan. The Qur’an preaches similar themes – one of its major teaching, I believe, says something along the lines that anyone who kills another kills the whole of the human race and anyone who saves another saves the whole of mankind. The exact wording I have used may have been wrong but that is the gist of it. The Jewish greeting is “Shalom” – peace. No, the problem is not religion – in my view – it is how people use religion to justify their beliefs, prejudices and actions. And, as I said above, when religion is linked with politics the result is extremism, hatred and prejudice.

I cannot speak for American society nor for that of Norway – although I suspect that in broad terms there will be very close similarities to ours in the UK.  But I would guess that my own experiences of the cultural mix of modern society is not untypical. For many years now I have quietly questioned the populist views expressed in our tabloids and by some of our more extreme politicians who view “immigrants” or people of different cultures as some kind of weakness and to be feared element within our society.

It seems to me that, like David Cameron, we can use all sorts of twee phrases like “muscular liberalism” to dress up what in the end is little more that good old fashioned prejudice. Unfortunately this ‘prejudice’ ensures  a total lack of clear thinking. When prejudice appears common sense and calm reasoned thought disappears through the window – I only have to think back to my mother’s comments and beliefs on the streets of Whit Monday Preston all those years ago to know that. I have, throughout my life, experienced other examples of non-thinking prejudice and the consequent lack of common sense which makes a total mockery of the prejudiced views that many in society hold.

I cannot be alone in noticing for example that when I attend my local hospital (as I do with great frequency) the hospital has a very significant proportion of people from different cultures working there – and I am so pleased for their skills, services and care. Our care homes for the elderly or other vulnerable people in our society are often staffed by a majority of such people – indeed some years ago when my wife and were visiting care homes to find a suitable place for my wife’s terminally ill mother the Director of one  home went to great pains to point out that so many of the staff were of different ethnic, cultural or national backgrounds, but, she said, were all excellent. And, having said all that, I am forced to ask the question “Why”? Have we in western societies forgotten  how to care? Are we so anxious to be off doing more exciting things than caring for our old or our mentally handicapped or our ill? Do we simply want these “other cultures” to do the nasty things that we will not do or because of the low wages paid cannot afford to do? It is a fundamental question that we need to ask about ourselves.

Or, I think back to a few years ago. It was the day after a terrorist attack in London. My wife and I were flying off to Italy on holiday and there was understandable chaos at the airport with massively heightened security. In the queue in front of us was an Asian family – father, mother and three teenage children. They were given a very thorough security check – the only conceivable reason being because they were Asian in appearance. They did not object and were very dignified.  Having passed through security we found ourselves sitting near the family in the departure lounge. I still remember with some embarrassment and self loathing the fact that as I stood there I felt, to my everlasting shame, suspicious of this family – were they terrorists in disguise? Immediately I had thought the thought  I dismissed it – the father could easily have been the doctor who had been treating my heart condition in hospital. But in that micro second, fear and unease had swept across my mind – and I did not like it, and I felt very guilty and slightly less of a human being.  And that is what feeds extremism – the video I watched, organisations of the type espoused by Anders Breivik and indeed the words of our own Prime Minister, intentionally or not, feed on the fears, the uncertainties and the baser instincts of mankind.

And then I think to a night in Singapore. My wife and I joined a queue for a taxi outside our hotel. A taxi pulled up and the elderly couple in front of us went forward to climb in. There was extended discussion as they got to the cab and the taxi driver waved his arms. The couple walked away and the driver signalled to us to come forward. We did so and told him where we wished to go and climbed in. “What was the problem there?” we asked. “Oh” said the driver, “I’m a racist – I don’t want blacks in my cab!” We sat horrified – extremism and hate easily crosses national boundaries and is not restricted to one colour or creed! His comments were excruciatingly laughable had they not been so frightening; his racism did not extend to refusing a white couple a ride in his taxi. Perhaps we should have exercised our prejudice and racism and demanded a white taxi driver!

But on the other side of the multicultural fence there are positives. My wife and I sat on a train travelling for Delhi to Amritsar. The carriage was full. Throughout the six hour journey the waiter had desperately tried to ply us with a selection of his curries, his drinks and his sweets –so anxious was he to please. Behind us sat an Indian family – mother, father, grandparents and several children.  About four hours into the journey a teenage girl from the family appeared at our seat with a piece of torn newspaper. In perfect English she shyly asked could she have our autographs. “But we are not famous” we replied, “why do you want our autograph?” She smiled and said “ But you are white, you are famous to us”. There was no answer to that - a very humbling experience. I tore pages from my Filofax and we wrote little comments and signed. Of course, within seconds the other children were there wanting autographs too.  No muscular liberalism there. No invective. No thought of them wanting to keep us whites “in our place”  as my mother wanted the Orangemen to keep the Catholics and Irish “in their place” all those years ago.

And when we got to Amritsar we enjoyed one of our lives’ great privileges and memories – visiting the Golden Temple. Yes,  a beautiful building and memorable for that but much more memorable for the atmosphere and belief of the thousands of Sikh visitors. To stand in the great food hall (my term) and be told “Yes, you are welcome to  sit and enjoy the food too if you wish – you don’t have to be a Sikh”; to see the obvious respect reverence and love that visitors had for their beliefs; to experience the kindness that we were shown that day was something to remember. Unlike my experiences at the airport when going off on holiday to Italy I felt no fear and unhappiness there  as I walked amongst thousands of Indian families and when we returned to our taxi to take us back to the hotel we were not refused because we were white.

Amritsar's Golden temple

A very humbling experience -
the Sikh holy book

These are isolated events – not things to build great theories on. Everyone will have similar or opposites to tell – but my main premise, for me holds true. Hatred, extremism, intolerance and the like is not the fault  of religions. It is a “people” thing and those that would shout loudest on these matters and (worse still) call themselves  “patriots” doing it in the name of protecting their culture or their liberty are to be treated with caution. My beliefs and my experiences lead me to believe that a society that is not tolerant and mutually supportive will fail. Perhaps there was a time when each nation could be an island to itself – it is my belief that this time is long gone – and a good thing too. And, I know a clever bloke like David Cameron would have an answer for this, but I find it slightly bizarre that in a world that is becoming ever more global in its outlook and systems he wants to invoke some kind of quasi-nationalism. I understand what he is saying but with the complexities of global commerce, the internet, the movement of people, the knowledge that people now have of other cultures and other places, then to coin Dylan’s phrase “The times they are a changing”. Indeed, it would seem to me that a society that cannot harness the goodwill and potential of all those that live there had, again to quote Dylan, “ had better start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone”. There is not only  a moral imperative for us to get on together but a hard-nosed practical one.

It seems to me that a couple of quotes from the past say it well. President  Jimmy Carter (a man who was much criticised at the time but who history will, I believe,  prove to be a great president) said: “We become not a melting pot but a beautiful mosaic. Different people, different beliefs, different yearnings, different hopes, different dreams.”  Perhaps Carter was waxing lyrical and being idealistic but there are times when I feel we could do with a bit more idealism and aspiration in the world. And nearly three centuries before French philosopher Voltaire famously said (and I do wish my mother was still around to read this!) “If there were only one religion in England there would be danger of despotism, if there were two, they would cut each other's throats, but there are thirty, and they live in peace and happiness”. I wonder what the Frenchman would have commented today about western societies? And finally, from three thousand years ago Greek philosopher Diogenes said “I am not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world” - a simple basic truth that we would all do well to consider in the interdependent, global world that we now inhabit. Two thousand years ago when telling the story of the Good Samaritan Jesus asked the question “Who was the neighbour of the injured man?” In today’s complex and ever smaller world who is my neighbour? – this blog may be read in the far corners of the planet and I am pleased to call whoever reads it “my neighbour” for my way of life depends upon the goodwill of many across the globe.

And, if you haven’t given up the will to live by now, back to Bob Dylan. In verse 6 of ‘With God on our side’ he says (and remember, this was the era of the cold war, the early 60s).

I've learned to hate Russians
All through my whole life
If another war comes
It's them we must fight
To hate them and fear them
To run and to hide
And accept it all bravely
With God on my side.

I suppose that you could substitute any word for "Russians" depending on your preferred prejudice! – Iraqis,  Afghanis, Taleban, Communist, Indian, Irish, Muslim, Hindu, Catholic....... whichever you choose it’s still unadulterated prejudice - justified by nationalism, patriotism and religion.

The Winter Palace

But when I read these words I am taken back to a bright cold day a few years ago when my wife and I went on a short visit to the wonderful city of St Petersburg in Russia. We have so many wonderful memories our visit – standing by the side of the river and suddenly realising that standing at the side of us was a man holding a chain on the end of which was a huge Russian bear – out for its morning walk! Or sitting in the hotel in the evening reading a book I had taken with me – I had decided to read ‘Crime and Punishment’ in the city where it was written. Or seeing the treasures of the Hermitage. But one event stands out. 


We were at the Winter Palace. It was bitterly cold and we went into the little cafe for a cup of warming coffee. We spoke no Russian. The cafe was empty and the young waiter, with signs, asked us what we wanted. With the help of the menu and lots of arm waving coffee was ordered. When he brought our drink, in halting English he asked where we were from in England. “Nottingham” we replied – his face lit up and he proudly announced “Brian Clough – the best football manager. I watch Nottingham Forest on television”. He then went on to explain how he had spent time working in England and how he followed the English football clubs on his TV. It gave us happy memories of a wonderful place...........and yet only  a few years before, prejudice, extremism, politics and the like had dictated that we should consider bombing him and his nation out of existence. Ronald Reagan had a term for him and his countrymen an “evil empire” he called them. A few years later George Bush and Tony Blair were  talking about the Iraqi “axis of evil”. Hmmmm. 


As Dylan said “And you never ask questions when God’s on Your Side”