Look at me, I wrote a think piece about Twitter

So it’s actually happening. This is the year that the tech billionaires destroy the world they built, like Tezcatlipoca and Quetzelcoatl flooding the earth to snuff out the Fourth Sun. This first sentence has a Boris Johnson vibe to itpompous, a little glib, a decent analogy but with details I googled five minutes previous. We might feign surprise, but tell people they are gods for long enough and they will behave like gods- petty, horny, possessed of unlimited destructive power, and above all, bored. The Gods must be Bored. I watched Devs once and thought it was pretty good. If I solemnly inform you that ‘we’ feel a certain way, who the fuck are you to tell me I’m wrong?

I have never actually used Twitter. I have- I joined briefly when I was nineteen, got bored and quit very quickly, but it makes the story less interesting. And yet I felt a compulsion to join the platform as it flickered out of life- to swim amid the phantasmagoria of a recently submerged world. Actually I joined because I needed it for work- although somehow I don’t think I’ll be needing it anymore. You might wonder what pulled me in. You don’t though. The truth is I have developed a strange kind of bond with Twitter- one which I will here describe as a para-parasocial relationship. Literally anybody can invent pop psychology on the internet. It’s that easy.

What do I mean by this, you ask? Somebody.please.look.at.me. Twitter is unique among social media platforms because even those who are have never joined are constantly aware of its presence. In reporting and opinion every day, it crawls into our consciousness. Without ever having ‘been there’, I can tell tales of the Twitter wars. I can catalogue the public meltdowns of celebrities whose careers never interested me. I have screenshots of posts saved on my desktop. Like all good pop psychology, there’s a kernel of truth to this- it’s legit weird how much of a relationship we can form with a community we’ve only watched from a distance. Like children of the diaspora, we obsess over the health of the motherland we know only from stories. If you think about this simile too much, it collapses like a dying star. Please move along.

We must of course show solidarity with those fired by the capricious gods of big tech. In all workplaces, people deserve better than threatening late-night emails, sudden access revocations, gruelling work hours and gaslighting from corporate overlords. If I write this with an affect of social conscience, maybe it’ll get picked up by The Guardian. And yet, in a way, we are all being gaslighted- gaslit?by Elon Musk. Here I am trying to equate ‘losing income and health insurance’ with ‘reading contradictory news stories about a platform I never use’. Platforms like Twitter become part of our social milieu- their lies bleed into our lives, and their collapse touches us all. With extreme dexterity and grace, I’ve somehow managed to make this story about me.

There will be new platforms, of course- new places to laugh, and rage, and grieve. The 280-character format may have given form to some of our worst impulses, but human nature doesn’t change. You can tell this is the last paragraph because I’m making airy generalisations about human nature and the future. My para-parasocial relationship with Twitter is quite unique- but its collapse offers scope to create more meaningful communities, without this pithy demon of distraction. Plz add me on Instagram. Maybe the best honour which we can bestow upon Twitter is to go out into the world- (!) – leaving behind the feedback loop of outrage and suspicion, and build the new realm of the Fifth Sun, together. And what brave new world, that has such people in’t. Please can I have my Guardian column now?

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Shimaguni Part 2: Prawn Cocktail and the Death of the Union

It seems facile to say that geography is a major determinant of history. Of course it is. Indian trade patterns were pinned to the monsoon winds. While Buddhism spread through the highlands of the Silk Road, acquiring a fondness for mountain retreats, Islam and salt were carried into sub-Saharan Africa on the backs of camels. The ideology of the Abrahamic religions has long been shaped by the desert winds.

However, geography doesn’t just shape the reality of history. It also shapes the stories we tell ourselves, whether or not those stories are true. Of course Britain’s legacy of shimaguni, its ‘island-ness’, made it a great naval power and protected it from centuries of land wars. Yet geography also shaped the psyche of Britain. Sometimes the two strands of geography, physical and psychological, have acted in tandem, but sometimes they have been detached.

Blood Ties

Hurrah for them
Printed in the Daily Mail– and also in the Mirror.

For one thing, the national founding myth of the Second World War is almost unique to Britain. For most countries, the Second World War was an awful, genocidal, degrading bloodbath, but Britain remembers the war (with some justification) as a period of national unity, when people came together to fight against Nazi atrocities and defend Fortress Britain. This is not a complete story. A whole sector of the British press had a sneaking regard for Hitler until about a Planck time before the war started. The Times newspaper were accused of censoring their journalist Norman Ebbut’s reports of Nazi Germany, and Lord Rothermere of the Daily Mail literally cheered for Britain’s home-grown fascists on his front pages. The Spectator responded that ‘the Blackshirts, like the Daily Mail, appeal to people unaccustomed to thinking‘.

Very well, Alone
Very Well, Alone- famous British war cartoon.

However, even if the tale of Britain uniting to fight fascism is a partial story, it’s an extremely powerful one. Most countries finished the second world war weary and broken, half-yearning for revolution, with powerful Communist parties and discredited old hierarchies. Italy abolished its king, and hundreds of thousands of Germans and Austrians were purged from government jobs. The French Communist party won 28.2% of the vote. But Britain finished the war with its national identity confirmed, even strengthened. Brits remember a war in which they worked together, suffered together, and preserved their sovereignty. The country has never been as un-European as in those first days after the war, when it settled into the role as America’s right-hand-man, rebuilding the world of democracy and peace, and clinging on to scraps of Empire.

Shimaguni also contributed to Britain’s ongoing relationship with its lost empire. The Second World War was the last attempt1 to build a land empire in Europe: Habsburgs, Bourbons, Bonapartes and Nazis had tried, but that book was finally closed. Britain, however, convinced itself that it was different, again. The great sea empire, boats drawn on by the siren song of ‘Britannia Rules the Waves‘, outlasted the war. Unlike France’s equally hard-lost empire, it still kind of survives, in the spectral form of the Commonwealth.

Commonwealth Games race
Commonwealth Games

British politicians still sometimes resurrect the idea of the Commonwealth, as if it were anything at all. What is the Commonwealth? Does anybody know? It’s a wispy, mostly imagined thing. The idea that something other than historical unease ties together England and Scotland, India and Barbados, Namibia and Canada and Kiribati as ‘the Commonwealth’ is a nice idea, but it doesn’t hold much water if you ask me. It talks a big talk on trade and democracy, but as far as I can see it mostly stages cricket matches2. Nonetheless it is often invoked when people talk about Britain’s future after Brexit. Boris and others have suggested that Britain will flourish after Brexit by strengthening ties with the Commonwealth, an idea Australia’s ex-PM Kevin Rudd has enthusiastically endorsed as ‘absolute bollocks‘.

Europe Over There

I don’t think the islander mentality is particular to conservatives (big or small ‘C’), and I don’t think I’m exempt from it. In the hippy, radical sixties, British musicians mined their own past for inspiration, they looked across the Atlantic, and they went to India on spiritual soirees, but they barely ever turned to Europe. Given the boundless invention of British music of the era and after, this doesn’t feel like a loss. Being an islander isn’t just about looking inwards! Mainland Europeans, shackled together by dotted lines on a map, tend to look to each other for inspiration; at its best, Britain can crib ideas from all over the world.  Japan has had its own version of this, magpieing systems of government and education from various countries in the 1870s, and shunning the world of its regional neighbours.

beatles ashram

But something happened across the Channel at the end of the century, which Britain was only half aware of. All those national walls gradually loosened into porous lipid membranes, allowing people to cross national borders at ease to travel and work. On paper, Britain experienced a similar transformation, but it didn’t feel the same, because the United Kingdom’s only land border is out of the way of most of the population. However slowly and falteringly, people experienced the fluidity of borders across Europe, and so it was possible to imagine the European Union as ‘Here’, at least some of the time. Britain, separated by the English Channel, always saw it as ‘over there’, a foreign power that made laws of which Britain might approve or disapprove. Europeans increasingly learnt each others’ languages, and above all learnt English, but Brits never returned the compliment.

prawn cocktailOver there, ‘Europe’ (isn’t it weird and revealing that we often refer to the EU as if it was the continent?) tried to ban prawn cocktail crisps, made 107 regulations for pillow dimensions, and fretted about newts, the press said. Boris Johnson was a big part of that Europhobic press. They often lied; the EU never tried to ban prawn cocktail crisps, although Britain did leave an essential flavouring off an agreed list of safe food additives3. However, the European Union really does make thousands of decisions that affect people’s lives, for better or for worse. Other European countries are just as ambivalent about those decisions, but they don’t feel quite the same disconnect from them.The psychological gulf between land borders and open seas probably wasn’t a conscious factor in many people’s Brexit vote, but I think it mattered.

My own view is that it was the boats that did it. The dinghies that cast out from Libya, Syria and Turkey en masse since 2014 might have landed in Greece and Italy, but the image of boats landing in small port towns and overwhelming border patrols couldn’t have been better calculated to stoke islander fears. I honestly don’t think most British people were that worried about Polish Brits serving in coffee shops and Romanian Brits working at IT start-ups. Instead, I think negative feelings about immigration reflected a deeper, primal fear that Europe’s borders might become unmanageable, and the outside would come flooding in. The Spectator fretted that Britain would become the ‘unwitting helper4 of people traffickers. As early as October 2014, the British Conservative Minister Joyce Anelay opposed spending money to rescue wrecked Mediterranean refugees5. Six months later, the inimitable Katie Hopkins wrote her famous column, calling refugees ‘cockroaches6. Most people of all political persuasions rightly condemned Hopkins as a lazy, morally bankrupt jackboot-wannabe, but I feel like the primal fear of invading ‘boat people’ lurks under a lot of British concerns about immigration.

Mediterranean boats

I know many honourable and kind Brexiteers who care about refugees and see themselves as internationalists. I know that they would be horrified and offended to hear me say all this. I want to clarify that I know there are plenty of stupid, self-satisfied Remainers, and plenty of people who voted Remain for irrational or selfish reasons. Likewise, not all Brexiteers voted out of fear, or even cared about immigration in the first place. Moreover, the EU can be inward-looking in its own way, protecting its own members and wary of the wider world. However, I don’t think you can overlook the shimaguni psyche if you’re investigating that night in 2016.

Shimaguni to the Future

Having been back in the motherland for a few months now, I’ve had the opportunity to test the waters and see how things are changing. I’m not altogether encouraged. A lot of the debate about ongoing trade talks with the EU, from politicians and blokes down the pub alike, seems to show no understanding at all of the motivations of the other side of those talks. The main priorities of the continental bloc are to keep its four freedoms, ensure that standards for manufactured goods are maintained, and to dissuade other countries from leaving the union. The EU doesn’t prize a trade deal with the UK above all other considerations, and I doubt it’ll make any deal that would compromise its core priorities. I would guess it’s highly likely that Britain crashes out of the transitional period with no trade deal in December.

Although I’d rather all of this didn’t happen, it’s not the end of the world. The people of England and Scotland and Wales and Northern Ireland have survived worse, and we’ll survive this. However, what won’t survive this- surely, can’t survive this- is the Union. No, not the European Union, the other one.

All this time I’ve been pulling a verbal sleight of hand. I’ve been talking about Britain and the United Kingdom in a unitary way, as if its constituent parts think alike and act alike. This is a lie. When I talk about Britain’s shimaguni attitude, I’m really only talking about England and Wales. Northern Ireland and Scotland are different; Northern Ireland because it has to be, because it knows what borders are, their lethality, their political weaponization. Sooner or later Northern Ireland will realise that it can’t afford a solid border with the European Union, and it will recombine with its southern counterpart. Scotland meanwhile seems to be in the middle of some unicorn transformation, becoming more open, liberal and outward-bound than ever before. It’ll most likely break away by 2030, and then in a nice piece of irony, it’ll take up the burden Ireland has cast off- a troublesome, quarrelsome border with a foreign country.

I respect the outcome of Scotland’s inevitable second referendum, but I worry about England. I worry because I don’t believe the Brexiteer version of events. If we are leaving a continent with a provincial mindset to become global Britain, international-minded and more open than ever, that’s great. But it’s not what I see on the ground. I see a country that’s tightening its definition of Britishness, sending elderly Afro-Caribbean settlers from the fifties home on technicalities. I see a country that’s having a conversation about itself, with itself, in a darkened room. I see a country that is threatening to dismantle its state news provider, muzzle its judiciary, sideline its journalists and tame its civil service. If we’d been paying attention to what happened in Europe, we’d say that the first couple of months since Boris won his majority have worrying parallels in the democratic decay of Poland and Hungary. But we haven’t, so we don’t.

beach-landscape-sea-coast-water-nature-810024-pxhere.com

1-   to date, anyway.

2-   I want to make clear that I am opposed to cricket in all its forms, and do not regard this as a positive example of internationalism.

3-   I have a vested interest in the truth, because I love prawn cocktail crisps.

4-   https://www.euractiv.com/section/justice-home-affairs/news/britain-opposes-operations-to-save-migrants-in-mediterranean/

5-  https://www.spectator.co.uk/2018/06/turning-back-boats-may-be-the-most-humane-response-to-the-migrant-crisis/

6-   I’m not going to link to Katie’s article, partly because it was a despicable, inhumane heap of shit, and partly because even The Sun was embarrassed by it and took it offline.

Shimaguni Part 1: Island Mindset

IMG_4479Japanese has a word: shimaguni. It means ‘island nation‘. Unremarkable, you might think. Yet bottled in four syllables is a distillation of a supposed national spirit, the adduced explanation for everything that is unique about Japan. Not just island nation, but island mindset, island culture, island existence. You can apparently see shimaguni in the excessive focus on harmony and consensus in Japanese culture, the strange fads, the jumbled up religious loyalties, and the double economic miracle that the country enjoyed in the early 20th Century, then again in the 60s and 70s.   Fervent nationalists will tell you that Japanese simians have more peaceful social orders than mainland monkeys, and that Japanese people love the cherry blossom because they have a unique appreciation of fleeting things. Some will even claim that Japanese people hear music with a different part of the brain than Europeans or the Chinese. Serious-minded academics will swear that Japanese people can communicate heart-to-heart by a kind of telepathy due to their shared values. Who dares suggest that shared values  lead to shared assumptions? It’s hardly magic. Continue reading “Shimaguni Part 1: Island Mindset”

Mea Culpa.

At present, I work nights, in an attempt to recoup my financial losses quickly. Stacking shelves doesn’t absorb much mental power, so at night I listen to audio books and dream of new escapes. In my more histrionic moments, I cast myself as a reverse economic migrant, exiled to home to pay my debts. I never said I was a reasonable man. Continue reading “Mea Culpa.”

The Maddest People on Earth

A family friend visited the other day. A history buff and bilingual tour-guide in London, he’s also a veteran of various 1970s revolutionary left-wing groups, which were notorious for their furious discord, their endless -isms, and their tendency to split into smaller and smaller sub-factions. Declaring each other to be revisionist pseudo-Stalinist traitors, adding initials to your faction’s name, arguing about manifestos in draughty meeting rooms- all de rigueur for the movement1. Continue reading “The Maddest People on Earth”

Quantum Politics (or, Batman! Robin! Let’s Do Local Election Apathy!)

Campaigners drive around in cars with megaphones on the roofs, waving at people and blaring messages. Around the city, there are neat, respectful lines of posters up advertising the candidates. The elections are for the city council, and they won’t bring down any government, but they’re still the kind of thing that an election otaku like me ought to find something to say about.

55169b03-e8c0-4818-8f7f-afaa3f43c9c1.jpeg

Continue reading “Quantum Politics (or, Batman! Robin! Let’s Do Local Election Apathy!)”