'If you are ready,' said the Walrus,
'now we we can begin to feed.'
Discussions over how to help poor oysters proceed
at the 2011 conference in Davos
at the 2011 conference in Davos
Last night The Moral Maze on Radio 4 chose to discuss the topic of happiness and well being, and whether society should aim for it. I agreed with Claire Fox when she said that it was disquiet that caused people to act and change society for the better. However, I didn't listen carefully to the whole discussion. I think Michael Buerk lead it in the wrong direction.
There was an arts programme later on that night:
'If you were not a moral being, I said to my wife, wouldn't you abandon the work that you do, the concerns that you have for others' welfare and just dedicate yourself to arts and crafts. I wonder what my parents would have done if their social conscience weren't alight - hadn't burned so brightly. Would they have become painters, writers, singers, dancers, musicians. I would.'
'Let's say there were enough resources to feed everyone and look after everyone; what would you do with your time?
'There are enough resources. She said. The problems of the world are caused by a few greedy people.'
I saw an Observer supplement article. It showed about 15 white British people. They were all around 30. The men had short hair and the women had slightly longer hair. They were submerged in a hot pool bath in the outdoors up to their nipples and the steam rose gently and in the little article below it said that the spa offered all sorts of facilities. It even offered bottom polishing.
I think we can all imagine what bottom polishing might consist of: you take your largish white bottom and you wash it and give it a few masques and peel and you scrub and massage and de-pimple and pluck it and then moisturise. At the end of the process you probably dip your posterior into a hot pool.
Now why not have your spa in the Philippines, in South Africa, in India? In this case your arse will be being polished a golf cart's drive from those less polished ones around the corner, living in extreme poverty. The philosophy of entitlement in practice. Guests at the camp commandant's party.
The basic education of the German Waffen S.S. was to learn extreme entitlement. If you were Nordic, blue-eyed and blond haired, a man strong and tall, if you were intelligent and had the moral virtues a Nordic warrior was supposed to have, then tomorrow belonged to you.You had a license to kill. A license to polish your arse in the presence of near absolute human misery.
Because the basic philosophy of our own elites in the west does resemble that of the Waffen S.S. It is no coincidence that senior German SS officers are always portrayed as punctilious British cads. The children who go to private schools and who get their tuition fees paid for them and who 'discover' they have natural ties to the establishment which they then learn to exploit, are taught a variant of this philosophy.
This sense of entitlement trickles down through to the British bourgeoisie and what once would have been termed the skilled working class to the extent that they can too get their bottoms polished in a luxury hotel in Sierra Leone; without wincing or clenching, with embarrassment.
To be fully human we have to be moral too. We have to be able to use our sense of what is right and what is wrong in order to act. But clearly, in order to succeed. In order to be happy. In order to get your own particular bottom polished. To give ourselves permission to explore texture and abstraction and to paint, for example, we must first have carefully locked away our social conscience. For that is what abstract art is offset against. Bottom polishing versus social justice. Abstract art against something more immediately worthy.
If you do so decide, then you must practice detachment, distance and the art of remove. In effect, you must cease to be fully human. Belay that better self. That higher guardian, and deny the soul. Eat battery chicken smiling, or foi gras remorselessly.
Deciding what should happen is a manifestation of entitlement. If what you do in anyway benefits anybody, though your work is essentially parasitical, then, like a tyrannical parent, you may justify your tyranny. If you make millions then the millions that you make will benefit you, and benefit others. It may benefit them marginally, in the way that a sweep benefits through pennies from cleaning a chimney, but there will always be a moral rationalisation available to you.
In fact because we are all born moral beings and aspire to develop as moral beings a great problem for capitalist society arises. The solution is a pea sorting machine whereby those people who want to do productive work and contribute towards society choose to make things, pilot things and provide useful services and maintain things. There are so many of them and they are essential. From dustmen to factory workers to engineers and computer programmers. They might even start their own small businesses in the end.
Those of us who want to actively help society and humans become teachers and social workers, doctors and judges, civil servants and midwives. We are not all well rewarded for what we do, but our aim is to help people. To help society. Because we want to be mensches.That's our high aspiration.
Not so the leftover people. Those who are left who can ignore their societal conscience. Or, like the Walrus and the Carpenter, like David Cameron, both weep and swallow: Mea culpa little oysters. Gulp, gulp, gulp.
These are the financial speculators, the polleros, the criminal gangs, the mega corporations, the property speculators, the dumpers, the vivesectionists, the armaments manufacturers, the pimps, the drug barons, the murderers, monopolists and rapists and exploiters.
But even they want to be whole. They can't take their billions with them.
They give money away in the end to be human and whole. To make up for the fact that they have shored up a vile and exploitating system: global capitalism. To excuse the fact that in their companies they build are the pillars that sustains this brutal and unequal social order they try to recompense. Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite sets up a peace prize.
They give money away in the end to be human and whole. To make up for the fact that they have shored up a vile and exploitating system: global capitalism. To excuse the fact that in their companies they build are the pillars that sustains this brutal and unequal social order they try to recompense. Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite sets up a peace prize.
But as Teresa said: The world is the way it is because of sin-sick amoral greedy people. It is as simple as that.
And the greediest of all are greedy now too for redemption. But redemption is beyond their reach - an impossible bootstrap away. They have perpetuated the inequality they benefited from, whatever balm they offer afterwards.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
By Lewis Carroll
The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright—
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there,
After the day was done—
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"
The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead-
There were no birds to fly.
And the greediest of all are greedy now too for redemption. But redemption is beyond their reach - an impossible bootstrap away. They have perpetuated the inequality they benefited from, whatever balm they offer afterwards.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
By Lewis Carroll
The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright—
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there,
After the day was done—
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"
The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead-
There were no birds to fly.
| The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand; They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand: "If this were only cleared away," They said, "it would be grand!" "If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year, Do you suppose," the Walrus said, "That they could get it clear?" "I doubt it," said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear. "O Oysters, come and walk with us!" The Walrus did beseech. "A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach: We cannot do with more than four, To give a hand to each." The eldest Oyster looked at him, But never a word he said: The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head— Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed. But four young Oysters hurried up, All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat— And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn't any feet. Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four; And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more— All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the shore. The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row. |
| "The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes- and ships- and sealing wax- Of cabbages- and kings— And why the sea is boiling hot- And whether pigs have wings." "But wait a bit," the Oysters cried, "Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!" "No hurry!" said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that. "A loaf of bread," the Walrus said, "Is what we chiefly need: Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed— Now if you're ready, Oysters dear, We can begin to feed." "But not on us!" the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue. "After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do!" "The night is fine," the Walrus said. "Do you admire the view?" "It was so kind of you to come! And you are very nice!" The Carpenter said nothing but "Cut us another slice: I wish you were not quite so deaf— I've had to ask you twice!" "It seems a shame," the Walrus said, "To play them such a trick, After we've brought them out so far, And made them trot so quick!" The Carpenter said nothing but "The butter's spread too thick!" "I weep for you," the Walrus said: "I deeply sympathize." With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket-handkerchiefs Before his streaming eyes. "O Oysters," said the Carpenter, "You've had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again?" But answer came there none— And this was scarcely odd, because They'd eaten every one. |
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