A gene for Liberalism?

Image from telegraph.co.uk

According to a new study published by Cambridge University Press, Liberalism (as in the modern leftist kind, not the Classical kind) may be genetically determined by a certain type of dopamine receptor.

"Dopamine is a neurotransmitter affecting brain processes that control movement, emotional response, and ability to experience pleasure and pain. Previous research has identified a connection between a variant of this gene and novelty-seeking behaviour, and this behaviour has previously been associated with personality traits related to political liberalism."

The implication being that individuals who are genetically predetermined to seek and engage in a wider variety of experiences are more likely to adopt a leftist political ideology based on the principle of social egalitarianism. This may all be well and good - and indeed at least anecdotally verifiable (after all, those individuals who interact with others from more diverse social backgrounds are usually inclined to hold a belief about the equality of all individuals that may then be translated onto a more political spectrum) - but this also seems to suggests that those individuals who do not possess this gene are naturally more callous and inclined to shy away from novelty or excitement. This seems to me to be problematic on two levels. Firstly, it presupposes that political Liberalism is the natural expression of an intrinsic sense of humanity and understanding; and secondly, it assumes that those individuals who do not subscribe to Liberalism per se are necessarily more conservative and more closed than those who do.

And this serves to highlight the whole problem with Liberalism in the first place : that those who subscribe to it often consider themselves to be morally and socially superior to those who don't. Moreover, Liberalism also has the tendency to become polarised and exaggerated into dangerous political ideologies, like Communism and Socialism, that when fully developed threaten to undermine the very sentiment of common humanity that inspired them in the first place. It may well be true that nurturing a sense of human equality can only be a good thing; if it weren't for our concern with universal human rights and equality of opportunity then our society would not be where it is today. But to suggest that political Liberalism is both the natural and appropriate expression of this concern for human welfare betrays the very trap of self-righteousness and moral priggishness that Liberals so often fall into. Just because an act is motivated by a sense of benevolence and altruism (for example, giving money to a tramp on the street despite the likelihood that it will be spent on drugs or alcohol) does not necessarily make it right. Liberals need to take off their rose-tinted glasses and see the world as it really is - because grand theories of social egalitarianism cannot and will not work (as much as we might like them to) within the current social climate.

So this study, in its own way, has exposed two very important issues surrounding political Liberalism. One is the tendency for Liberals to consider themselves to be morally superior to non-Liberals; and the other is to prove, scientifically, that a subscription to Liberalism requires a certain type of mentality: one that is simultaneously idealistic and immune to any sense of reality or pain, be it social or physical (hence the dopamine connection). The fact that a gene that serves to make us more liable to take risks and to seek new and dangerous experiences also tends to make an individual more likely to adopt a Liberal mindset is itself highly telling.

"In 'ertford, 'ereford and 'ampshire..."

Today, the British Library announced its quest to record the way people articulate the English language, and in the process to pave the way towards categorising the changes taking place in the pronunciation of certain words.

Apparently, the sounds of words such as says, ate, mischievous, harass, garage, schedule and aitch (as in the letter 'h') is gradually shifting, with younger speakers showing a preference for different pronunciations to their elders.

Inevitably, all languages are subject to natural changes as they evolve over time - speakers are usually exposed to a whole variety of social and linguistic variables, including class, age, sex etc. Interestingly, however, several of the changes noted by the study have indicated that in some cases class and social standing no longer have a role to play in the pronunciation of certain words and sounds. Words such as schedule and aitch have finally bowed down to the influence of America and are now acceptedly pronounced as skedule and haitch respectively.

In many ways, the study provides a fascinating insight into the way our language has changed over time, and it has also provided a glimmer of hope for proponents of social mobility by showing how pronunciation of certain words has become less a matter of class and breeding and more a reflection of our dynamic and changing modern society.

Still, my inner pedant will never cease to cringe when I hear the likes of skedule and haitch pronounced on the street, and I reserve the right to glare witheringly at any individual who chooses to affront my ears in this manner. It's enough to make Henry Higgins turn in his fictional grave...

Trying to stop the water from running out

Hundreds of Syrians in the occupied Golan Heights have staged a protest march over concerns that a lake could dry up due to pumping by Israel's national water company.

These harrowing images, published by the BBC, highlight the very human suffering that plagues such water shortages in the region.

Dead fish on the shores of lake Ram

Protestors symbolically pour water into the lake

They say that by the time 18-month-old Kaisar Fakher al-Din grows up, the lake could have all but disappeared, causing irreparable harm to the local environment. 

Pictures by Raya al-Deen

A moment of folly in the captial

In the mad rush and noise that characterises the streets of London, it's all easy to become alienated and disillusioned by the assault of glass, steel and LED screens that have transformed this once ancient and historic city into a modern metropolis of the new age of technology and communications. The beating, throbbing life of the city is at once exhilarating and terrifying - a vast expanse of flashing lights and blaring sirens that assault the senses of the innocent bystander and beat them into begrudging submission. Whatever happened to the London of the imagination? The London of history? Long gone are the quaint sights of gentlemen in top hats and tails; of bawdy whorehouses and elegant cocktail parties; of the scent of tobacco smoke and the tinkle of piano keys. Indeed, everything that was once associated with the wonderful and faintly peculiar characteristic of being part of British society seems to have withered and died in a city that is now more famous for its crowds of unruly tourists than its Nancys, Sweeney Todds or Bertie Woosters.

And yet this city never fails to surprise and amaze. Sitting in the warmth of a rather shabby little bar in the heart of Soho last night, I was delighted to find myself serenaded by the doleful strains of Tom Jones' "Delilah" that were banged out on a decrepit looking piano in the corner which I had assumed was there merely for decoration. As I listened to the familiar plonk plonk of the keys, the whole pub began to resonate with the sound of singing - a low, mournful hum that united this handful of strangers in a common musical cause, only to die away as suddenly as it had begun. It was a strange, disembodied sort of singing: seemingly to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once, almost as if it was growing organically out of the man whose fingers were manipulating the keys of the piano with such gusto. In the silence that followed the end of the piece, and before the commencement of another (an Elton John number, if I recall correctly), it occurred to me that perhaps the infamous British eccentric was not lost after all, and it was ordinary people like these, in this ordinary bar in Soho that in their own small way have continued the weird and wonderful cultural tradition that is 'Britishness'.

Later, as I left the pub to make my way home in the crisp evening air, I could still hear the gentle hum of the music drifting through the cold, dark streets of London town.

"Why, why why, Delilah?..."

Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité

It would seem the French are at it again. Shouting, screaming mobs of protestors have taken to the streets and widespread union strikes have contributed to a growing sense of panic across the country. Such 'official' protests have been coupled with nationwide blockades at schools and universities, as well as continuing strikes at oil refineries. Anger and frustration have inevitably bred violence and disorder -  and cars and buildings have been torched in cities across the nation in a chilling echo of the Paris riots of 2005.

Despite the uproar in France, however, the opinion of the international community remains on the sceptical side - after all, the French are renowned for their political volatility manifested in their love of protests and strikes (or "manifs" as they are fondly known), and other countries are used to looking on in bemusement as strikers periodically bring France to a veritable standstill. Indeed, from the perspective of countries such as Britain and Germany, where the retirement age is set to rise to 67 (if it hasn't already), the meagre two-year increase proposed by President Sarkozy hardly seems reason enough to protest at all, let alone to effectively bring a whole country to its knees. Radio four's Today Programme this morning hosted a lively discussion on the differences in attitude between the French and the English when it comes to political activism - the conclusion of which seemed to be that it was somehow "in our genes" to display differing levels of interest and/or outrage when it comes to governmental reforms. There may well be an element of truth to this. Having studied the history of French political thought and even lived in Paris for a year, I am all too aware of the fact that the French and the English simply have very different views when it comes to the role of the political elite. The French revolution still holds a large sway over the national psyche, and in many ways the government is still seen as a straw man that has been put in place by the people, for the people. The government may well have the international clout, but it is the people and the population at large that hold the true power in French politics. In Britain the sentiment is very different. We see parliament as being the elected representative of the population - we have delegated our power to the government and it is therefore the politicians, and not the people, who usually have the last say on any political matter. After all, that is what the government is for.

This may well all be true, but is there something more to the current unrest taking place in France that goes beyond a conception of the role of governmental power? Robert Redeker has probably hit the nail on the head in his article for Le Monde when he says that "la retraite" has become a sort of "myth" for the French that symbolises a form of 'heaven on earth' - for them it is, in effect, their reward for a lifetime of drudgery and toil. This is why there has been such a backlash against the government's attempts to reform the current retirement age: not because of this particular reform per se, but because of what this reform represents. By changing the retirement age from 60 to 62, Sarkozy has effectively shattered the beautiful illusion of retirement as a golden age of relaxation and prosperity that is guaranteed to all citizens by the state. He has shown that the current retirement age is not something that is set in stone, or indeed enshrined in any way from future reforms, and in so doing has brought the entire population down to earth with a bump from their reverie of long summer evenings, rocking chairs and mini golf.

It is an interesting theory, and one that is particularly compelling if you consider the French love of intellectual philandering and philosophical daydreaming (having read Philosophy at the Sorbonne, I feel I am in a position to be able to comment on this particular and peculiar aspect of the French national psyche). Understood from this perspective, the current crisis is brought into focus from a whole new perspective: the protesters are not just attempting to save the current age of retirement from the governmental axe, they are also trying to preserve a social and political dream that is being threatened by such reforms. The problem lies in the fact that it is a dream which is incompatible with the contemporary global financial crisis - and one that is likely to be rendered redundant in the coming years of fiscal reform. But the French are not willing to give up so easily, and they will go down fighting.

http://www.lemonde.fr/idees/article/2010/10/20/la-retraite-agonie-d-un-mythe-francais_1428758_3232.html

Out of Sight and Out of Mind?

On October 6, 2010, a small but determined group of people stood in protest outside the Iraqi Embassy in London. They waved banners and shouted slogans in order to express their indignation and anger about the recent deportation of 49 Iraqi refugees to Baghdad - a city still plagued with security risks and sectarian violence. But the officials inside the building did not stir, and the anguished pleas of the protesters fell on deaf ears: their impassioned slogans rendered empty and useless in the still and silent Autumn air.

Since the government of Britain joined forces with the US in the 2003 invasion of Iraq, thousands of Iraqi and Kurdish refugees have fled their homes to seek refuge in neighbouring countries from the violence and turmoil of their own land. Many made the long and arduous journey overland to Europe, in order to start a new life for themselves within the calm shores of the British Isles. According to Dashty Jamal of the International Federation of Iraqi Refugees, more than 150,000 people have made a home for themselves here in the UK in the seven years since the fighting began. This may seem like a large number, but compare that to the estimated 700,000 Iraqi refugees in both Syria and Jordan in 2007. In light of these startling figures, there is nothing at all unusual about the number of Iraqis and Kurds who have come here, to Britain, in order to seek a new and better life. What is unusual - even worrying - however, is the welcome they receive when they get here.

This year alone, more than 2,000 Iraqi refugees have been forcibly deported, against their will, back to the dangerous and violent country from which they hoped they had escaped. Quite apart from the disturbing accounts of the brutality and violence perpetrated by British officials behind the closed doors of deportation centres, the fact that our supposedly liberal government is quietly removing thousands of individuals from this land against their will is enough to incense even the most morally lax individual. That is not to say that I disregard the need to monitor, and even prevent, the entry of large numbers of immigrants or asylum seekers into Britain, and I fully understand (if not completely accept) the government's "firm but fair" rhetoric when it comes to dealing with the large number of refugees overwhelming out borders - but this is going too far.

It seems that target-driven deportation and removal statistics have come to dictate who leaves when, rather than taking into account the needs and desires of the individual at stake. Not only that, but the tendency to cover up the true nature of the British deportation machine smacks of a guilty conscious and should lead us to question the nature of the red tape and bureaucracy surrounding our immigration policy. The recent death of Jimmy Mubenga, who was fatally beaten by security guards during his deportation to Angola, is but the most recent example of the duplicity perpetrated by our government in its eagerness to meet immigration targets. The public is all too aware of the official line regarding immigrants, refugees and asylum seekers - but what we are not told about are the individual people whose lives are systematically destroyed by the inhuman process our government has subjected them to. And that is even before you take into account the fact that many of the countries to which these people are being returned are themselves inherently dangerous, and that many of the deported refugees arriving in these countries end up in prison or worse because they do not possess the correct documentation on arrival.

The whole system speaks of a worrying cover-up operation that seeks to hide the truth about the human cost of deportation behind an array of targets and figures. We, the public, should not be lied or pandered to by our government - and we have a right to know what is going on. Not only that, but those individuals who are being subjected to inhumane and debase treatment behind the closed doors and red tape have the right to be treated with courtesy and respect. It may well be that Britain needs to deport a certain number of people a year - after all, this is only a small country and there is only a limited amount of land and resources available - but the system that deals with these deportations should be one that is fair and transparent for all. Is that, in itself, too much to ask?

http://www.alertnet.org/thenews/newsdesk/IRIN/d8c7a728fce0cc6c240297a9be421c1a.htm

http://csdiraq.com/index.php?option=com_frontpage&Itemid=1

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/feb/10/iraq-syria-refugees

Faceless in the Crowd

The family is evidently on some sort of excursion. The little boy skips happily ahead of his parents while his sister clings shyly to her mother's side, wide-eyed and curious as I pass by her on the pavement. The boy almost careers straight into me and is quickly reprimanded by his stern-faced father who grabs his arm and shuffles him along. The scene is almost timeless: four family members on an afternoon stroll that could be in any city on the planet, at any point in history. Except for one very obvious difference. The woman - presumably the mother of the two children - is covered from head to toe in black fabric that leaves nothing but her eyes visible to the outside world. She is faceless and shapeless, a black mark on the city landscape. This in itself is not necessarily surprising, in many parts of the world women choose to hide their modesty in garments that protect them not only from the burning rays of the sun but also from the unwanted stares of strangers. Indeed, I myself have spent a considerable amount of time in these countries and made a concerted effort to speak with and understand the women that choose to dress in this fashion, and I am no longer made uncomfortable by the sight of a black figure walking down the street whether it be in Syria, Jordan, Morocco or Turkey. But this is Marylebone, in central London.

The vision of this shadowy women, seemingly transplanted from the bustling souqs and bazaars of the Arab world into the cold, grey streets of Britain's capital city has made me realise that the current controversy surrounding the issue of the burqa is not a debate that is being played out in some far-flung corner of this earth that will have no impact on our daily lives, it is a very real, very pressing issue that is polarising people the world over and turning them against each other in the fight for truth and justice. And it is a fight that is being played out in our own backyard.

Personally, I am highly respectful of the choices other people make in the way they comport themselves - whether that be the way they dress, eat, work, play or any other of the multitude of things that characterise a human being. I recognise that many women feel it is their religious duty to cover their faces in public, and no matter what the arguments are, for or against the explicit requirements of Islam or the textual exegeses of the Qur'an, the very fact that some women believe they have no choice but to wear the burqa or the niqab out of religious observance makes it true. To press the point further, I don't believe any government or institution has the right to dictate what a person can, or cannot wear, and that the new laws recently passed in France and Belgium set a dangerous precedent in the quest for individual sovereignty and self-determination. Spurious claims about purported "security risks" seem to do nothing but mask an ugly and dangerous undercurrent of Islamophobia that is threatening the mainstream liberal and secular values the Western world holds so dear.

But no matter how much I rationalise it to myself, I can't escape the feeling of unease and foreboding as the robed figure sweeps past me on a London street. 

The question we must ask ourselves is not why is the burqa being attacked by the West, but why is it being attacked now? After all, the burqa has been around since long before the Prophet Mohammed received his revelations in the Arabian desert ; women of all religions and of all sects have been covering their faces in the name of humility for centuries without anyone deeming it inappropriate or offensive in any way. Why, suddenly, is it no longer acceptable for a devout Muslim (or someone of any other religious denomination) to conceal her modesty in the way she feels appropriate and in the way she feels her faith requires? The answer to that question is as simple as it is worrying. Because the burqa is no longer a mere garment - it has become a symbol loaded with all the connotations and menace of an unexploded bomb. In some Muslim countries, perhaps, cultural and societal norms still dictate a certain level of personal modesty for women that would be considered overly stringent in other parts of the world. But in the West, where centuries of political and social thought have led to a culture of liberal and secular values (however right or wrong these may be - in no way do I intend to make the imperialistic claim that the West is morally superior to any other culture in any respect), those women who choose to wear garments that partially or wholly conceal their identity in public are directly violating the principles of the society in which they live. To wear the burqa or the niqab in a Western country is to deliberately reject the founding principles of Western society, and turns what was once a mere piece of fabric into a political, rather than a religious, symbol.

That is not to say that I believe every woman who chooses to wear the burqa or the niqab in the West does so as a deliberate provocation or political statement - she may indeed sincerely believe that the way she dresses is entirely dictated by her religious faith. But it would be short-sighted at best to suggest that she is not aware of the issues surrounding radical Islam in the West, or that in some way her choice to continue dressing the way she does makes her more likely to come down on the side of the Muslim community if ever she were forced to choose. The burqa itself is just the physical manifestation of a deeper rift that has driven through Western society; one that threatens to destroy the very foundations on which we have built our lives. 

The bottom line in the whole ridiculous controversy is that although banning the burqa would be "un-British" (in the words of immigration minister Damian Green) by undermining the British notions of tolerance and individual liberty, the very act of wearing a burqa is itself deeply un-British. To cut oneself off from others and define oneself predominantly according to one's faith is a custom that cannot, and should not be tolerated here - not because it prevents the person in question from participating fully in British society (itself a questionable argument) but because it creates barriers between people and between communities and leaves us with a fragmented and disillusioned society.

On the other hand, we should also be respectful of all individuals and communities and not let our own unease muddy the waters of political and social discourse. I think an important point to note here is that it is not just in the West that the burqa is seen as a symbol of radical Islam: many Muslim countries also frown on the wearing of such garments and some governments (notably those of Syria, Tunisia, Egypt and Turkey) have already prepared the ground for an outright ban by disallowing women to cover their faces in schools and universities. (Indeed, I even wrote an article outlining this point for the Sunday Express: http://www.express.co.uk/posts/view/203189/Burkha-ban-racist-Why-do-Islamic-states-do-so-then-).
So if the argument in favour of the burqa depends on the premise that the West is merely attacking it out of an inadvertent racism or Islamophobia, then it doesn't have a leg to stand on. The fact is that the burqa is being attacked from both sides - East and West - as an out-dated and backward-looking cultural practice that objectifies women and facilitates their mistreatment by men.

But to follow in the footsteps of either France or Belgium is certainly not the answer, and would do nothing but play into the hands of Islamic extremists - not to mention the fact that it would go against the liberal principles of our society. It seems then, that there is no easy option. Either we continue to tolerate the burqa in the streets of Britain and unwillingly provide a breeding-ground for a politicised and radical form of Islam; or we betray our own values and dictate what the individual can or cannot wear, setting a dangerous precedent for the future. What is needed here is for those on both sides of the issue to let go of their prejudices and come to an agreement that will foster a sense of mutual respect and acceptance from all communities. We cannot have a society in which people are driven apart by their differences and cannot accommodate one another. Divided, we shall fall. We need to take off our blinkers and come together, united, to repair the rifts that have fragmented our society. Because the alternative doesn't even bear thinking about.

Down and Out in London

Although this blog is intended as a purely objective analysis of contemporary political and social affairs, there will necessarily be a certain personal undercurrent that will prevail throughout. That is to say that no matter how hard I may try to prevent my own views from biasing what is said here, such endeavours are inevitably doomed to failure from the outset due to the human capacity to only see things through the distorted lens of their own perception.

That being said, I hope to be able to use my own views in order to initiate a wider exploration of the issue in hand - and to foster thought and debate. So to that end, I wish to give a brief summary of my personal circumstances so that any opinions I do covertly express may be easily attributable.

As the title of this post suggests, I am currently unemployed and living in a tumbled-down and wonderfully bohemian London flat that is lovingly referred to as 'The Hovel' - not entirely in jest. It may well seem that as an unemployed Oxford graduate I have nothing better to do than sit at home and while away the hours on the web, but I am currently completing an internship placement at the Sunday Express (not a reflection of my personal political convictions, I hasten to add) in the hope that someone may spot my budding journalistic talent and decide to hire me...It is also because of this journalistic aspiration that I have finally succumbed to the inevitability of social media and started this blog. And I intend to continue it as a personal (and paradoxically, extremely public) way of exploring all those issues and enigmas I find myself faced with in the deluge of information that bombards us every day.

That is, if the ceiling doesn't fall in first...