Albertus Minimus

Grown-up relationships

We are told that people today have adult relationships, passing from one sexual encounter to another without, as the canard has it, 'hurting anyone'.

In fact, the opposite is the case. These so-called adult relationships are more like those a child hurt beyond hope by uncaring parents, yet whose heart contains a desperate, unacknowledged longing for his love to be returned.

Holy hottie

I blogged a little while ago about a former stripper called Heather Veitch who has now started a ministry to girls working in the sex industry. The other day I read an interesting article about her in the 'Observer', which, for those of you who don't know, is the sister Sunday paper to the 'Guardian', sharing its secular, liberal world view. Given the organ publishing the report I wouldn't have been surprised if it turned out to be a hatchet job. After all, born-again Evangelical Christians are not exactly a favoured victim group there. And indeed, during the course of the report we do learn that the reporter is an atheist. However, it's fascinating to read under the surface of the page: I suspect that the journalist found herself admiring Mrs Veitch and her two co-workers far more than she ever expected to.

Speaking to her over the course of the weekend, it becomes clear that Heather has lived through a catalogue of catastrophes you'd be hard pressed to fit into the most tear-jerking of airport fiction. She recounts it all in a voice whose sweetness never breaks, and whose light and even tone might send you into a trance if it weren't for the horrors enveloped in it.

Let's begin with the terminal illnesses: her husband, with whom she has a young daughter and with whom she has brought up a teenage son from a previous relationship, is dying of brain cancer. She cares for him - and provides an income from hairdressing and from the church, where she is about to go on staff - just as she once cared for the sister who was born with heart disease and part of her brain missing when Heather was 14. 'I take care of sick people,' she says. 'That's my thing. It seems to follow me around.'

It's worth reading the whole report, but be warned that it contains both bad language and some descriptions of sexual acts. The link is here.

The sentience register

The only tenable argument for abortion is that a foetus is not a human being. Thus, it depends on a separation of the idea of 'personhood' from the process, begun at conception and ended at death, of an incarnate human being. In an interesting new twist on ancient Gnostic heresies, we have a new and even more numinous concept posited as being in contrast to the Christian belief that a human being is a union of body and soul: rather than a person being a body, or a soul, a person is defined by 'quality of life'. The curious thing is that this is, as an idea, even harder to pin down than those of 'soul' or 'body', particularly since there's no agreement nowadays on what constitutes the good life in the first place.

Anyway, this is obviously the direction the argument is heading, both with respect to abortion and euthanasia. So, where is it likely to take us? If once we accept that 'personhood' is not something fundamental to a human being but rather a set of attributes acquired, or lost, by a collection of cells, then it seems to me that a logical consequence is the setting up of something we could call a 'sentience register'. This would first come into being to assess those whom society had deemed meet to kill off, and we see the first steps to this in abortion legislation, and more recently the push to legalising euthanasia, and now the so-called Groningen protocol in Holland, which defines which new-born babies can be killed.

After that, it would only be a matter of time before it became obvious that, while all humans are equal, some humans are more equal than others. For once humanity is predicated on a set of attributes, it will inevitably be the case that some people will have more, and others less. Thus the final result will be the creation of a society where worth is probably measured by some mix of genetic and developmental factors. Perhaps parents who produce children very much below or above them in their level of humanity will have those children removed and placed with more suitable carers. After all, it's in the child's own interests that it be raised by parents who can relate to it. One can ultimately envisage a society more rigidly stratified than any other in human history, one's level in it determined by psychological and genetic testing, and the eventual and inevitable slip down the sentience register accompanied by the knowledge that to fall too far brings with it a no doubt painless euthanasia. After all, you wouldn't be you anymore, you'd have ceased to be a human being.

This seems to me a likely development of current ideas. So watch out for the sentience register, coming soon to a health bureaucrat near you.

Where happiness lies

A friend recently relayed this conversation to me.

He was talking to an elderly Chinese gentleman and they got on to the subject of happiness and where it lay. The Chinese gentleman said that happiness was, 'Grandfather, father, son, die.'

When my friend objected that that seemed a rather morbid path to happiness the old man added three words that finished the argument: 'In that order.'

(I must admit that this has the ring of an urban legend, but even if there is no such ancient Chinese proverb, the story seems to convey a truth about what is the right and proper order of things. How great a tragedy it must be for a man to outlive his sons, or a mother her daughters.)

All in the mind?

Dr Michael Persinger, a neuroscientist living in Canada although American by birth, has a theory of everything: God, alien abductions, mystical experiences, feelings of deja vu, pretty well the full panoply of the extraordinary and the supernatural. Basically, it's all in the brain. Yep, the whole caboodle is down to those pesky little neurones misfiring, rather like a car with a faulty transmission suddenly shoving you into reverse when you meant to put it into first.

But how does he know this? It's quite simple, really. He claims he can produce mystical and spiritual experiences in people, and it doesn't take years of self-discipline, personal mortification and contemplative prayer. No, all you have to do is put on a yellow crash helmet, sit back, and relax. (If you think I'm joking about the yellow crash helmet, see here, and scroll down for the photo.) A weak electromagnetic field is passed through the temporal lobes of the brain and enlightenment results. A journalist gives an interesting account of his experiences with the helmet here. As an aside, if Hollywood, with its visions of gleaming metal laboratories, has convinced you that scientific research is glamorous, his description of the experimental set up here will set you straight.

I'm escorted into the chamber, an old sound-experiment booth. The tiny room doesn't appear to have been redecorated since it was built in the early '70s. The frayed spaghettis of a brown-and-white shag carpet, along with huge, wall-mounted speakers covered in glittery black nylon, surround a spent brown recliner upholstered in the prickly polymers of that time. The chair, frankly, is repellent. Hundreds of subjects have settled into its itchy embrace, and its brown contours are spotted with dollops of electrode-conducting cream, dried like toothpaste, giving the seat the look of a favored seagulls' haunt.

Of course, some, not least Dr Persinger himself, have taken this to mean that religion has been explained. In the same way, such critics would no doubt say that a thorough chemical analysis of the consituent pigments of the 'Mona Lisa' would constitute a thorough understanding of La Gioconda's smile. But it occurs to me that if other parts of the brain are stimulated they likewise produce effects: thus stimulating the visual cortex affects sight, other areas recall memories as clear as the moment that produced them. The interesting thing about these is that they correspond to something real. No one would think that by understanding how the brain sees it therefore means that the external world that it sees is therefore explained away. So I would argue that, if Dr Persinger's research is correct, that it actually provides evidence for religion.

Of course, psychology being the field it is, there is now controversy over the methodology Dr Persinger's experiments, and various other things. For a quick overview of the dispute, go here.

The worst writer ever?

I work as an editor for a publishing company here in London and most of the time the copy I receive is, at least, serviceable. There are, however, the odd exceptions: writers who submit work of a standard that makes me wonder how they can call themselves 'writers' with a straight face and unblushing countenance. This last week I've been editing the copy of a person who is the worst writer I have yet come across. Virtually every review she submitted has had to be rewritten from scratch. Here is an example of the worst restaurant review I have ever had the misfortune of editing:

Have a yen to see the industry power brokers in action, book a booth well in advance at luncheon and observe everyone from A-list actors to top of the line agents, while chowing down on well prepared American fare, you know steaks and hamburgers, with equally fine Martinis.

Still, at least in that example it's easy to understand what the writer was trying to say. But how about this sentence for a construction that is almost completely opaque in its meaning:

Named for the temperature difference between medium rare and well done is also helmed by the talented Goodells at The Roosevelt Hotelk, is essentially their twist on the burger joint.

I did eventually work out what she meant, but it took some time.

Reading her copy, I was wondering how on earth this lady could make a living as a writer. Then it occurred to me that something I had read about Hollywood applied here also. This is the riddle: why do so many bad films come out of Hollywood, when no one (with the possible exception of the characters in 'The Producers') actually sets out make a bad film? Even the director of the worst Z grade direct to video schlock didn't wake up each morning when filming and think, 'Great, I'm going to be shooting some more really bad scenes today.'

So, where does it all go wrong? Well, one point that had never occurred to me before is that there are a very wide range of skills necessary to a film maker, and not all of these have anything to do with the actual movie. Thus, the ideal director will obviously be able to extract performances from actors, frame a story, and so on. But he will also, and long before he ever gets near a camera, have to be able to 'pitch' a concept, network, and, most importantly of all, make film company executives believe in him enough that they are willing to stump up a lot of cash for the movie to be made in the first place.

Thus, it's easy to see how it's perfectly possible for a person to have all the talents required to get a film green-lighted, but few of the abilities needed to actually produce a good movie once production has begun. The same is true, althought to a lesser extent, with writing, where the ability to make contacts with agents and publishers and publicists is at least as important in getting work published as the words on the paper.

So my anonymous scribe will probably continue in a long and successful writing career, her prose polished by generations of long-suffering editors.

All aboard the gravy train

Scott Burgess of the Daily Ablution proves himself a braver man than I by ploughing through the 'Guardian's Society supplement. For those unfamiliar with this fine organ, I should point out that in the 'Guardian' "Society" does not refer to bejewelled debutantes making their trembling entrances into polite company but, well, impolite company. Should you be worried that we here in Britain are not doing enough to succour the underclass in its distress, Scott runs through a short section of the 'Situations Vacant' advertisements that appeared in the newspaper yesterday.

Reading them, I suggest we all go off and qualify as social workers. For instance:

Stoke on Trent ("Transformation. Teamwork. Talent.") A veritable bonanza here, as the "Social Care Services for Children and Young People" section has just seen its budget increased by a third. It's not clear how many people they're looking for, but it's definitely at least 5, and at least £160,000 has been allocated.

So, as the old saw has it, every cloud has a silver lining. Or, to put it another way, there's money in misery.

Professor Snape: Villain or, perhaps, Hero?

Before you start reading this post, a warning. If you have not yet read 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince', but intend doing so, then read no further. Avert your eyes at once and go and read the book before returning to this blog. This post gives away far too much of the story for you to read it before the book.

All right, now, I hope only those who should be are still reading.

Sure?

Quite sure?

All right, let's begin.

If you, like me and Mrs Minimus, enjoy the Harry Potter books, one question is likely to have sprung to mind after reading 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince'. Why, JK, why? But, at least in our case, this wasn't a a cry of despair at the death of Albus Dumbledore (sad though that was) but rather, how could she have let pass such an opportunity for the gradual redemption of a character as to make Professor Snape the traitor that took Dumbledore's life. To be honest, Professor Snape was fast becoming my favourite character, and then JK ripped him away from me. At the beginning of the book, when he is apparently revealed as a traitor and swears the Unbreakable Oath, I still thought that this must be authorial misdirection. She was setting us up. After all, why reveal something that no other character, particularly Harry, would know, when if Snape actually was a traitor it would be far better revealed at the climax. So right through the book I was fairly confident that JK was stage managing all the elements so that Professor Snape could be revealed for the hero I believed him to be at the end. And then he goes and kills Dumbledore.

Ah. Problem.

It looks like Snape was a traitor all along, and Dumbledore an over trusting fool for believing him, and the overarching themes of redemption and sacrificial love that I thought I had discerned in the series were more likely projections of my imagination rather than JK's. To be honest, I was really quite upset, and my interest in the final, concluding volume of the series took something of a plunge.

But maybe hope is not lost. Maybe JK really was setting us up, in preparation for one of the biggest hey prestos! in literary history. At least, there is now a plausible theory of how Professor Snape might not actually have killed Professor Dumbledore when he seemed to.

“Bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death.” Cathy Liesner believes - and I am convinced she’s right - that it is this last comment about “stoppering death” that explains many of the questions that are never explained in Half-Blood Prince. In a nutshell, Professor Severus Snape “stoppered” Albus Dumbledore’s death when the Headmaster tried to destroy the Slytherin ring Horcrux.

John Granger explains further in this long essay why he thinks the Half-Blood Prince is the best Harry Potter novel and, if he's right, then I agree with him. And his site, Hogwarts' Professor is certainly worth a visit for any fans of the boy wizard and those wanting to understand some of the deeper themes in JK Rowling's work.

How many cultures does it take to change a lightbulb?

Only one, the rest are on benefits.

Sorry, that's probably unnecessarily savage, but as a child of immigrants to this country, parents who worked and worked to support themselves and their children and never expected anything from the United Kingdom but a fair chance at employment (received) and education (nope), it irritates me immensely to see people coming here and expecting the state to house, clothe, feed and keep them. Still, what can you expect when the official position appears to be that there is no good in being British in the first place? And besides, all those swarthy skinned people with their strange languages bring a nice cosmopolitan frisson, and you can't deny our food has actually become palatable. So, it would appear, runs the unconscious thought around many a comfortable dining table, safely insulated from what is going on outside.

But despite increasing worries on both the left and right about the effects of mass immigration and multiculturalism, the golden elite who run the country still don’t hold much with the idea that there might be millions throughout the country who are tolerant in their approach to these issues and detest extremism, but who are deeply concerned about the way in which their neighbourhoods might be affected by such far-reaching social and cultural changes, over which they have next to no control.

Multiculturalism may seem like a great idea in Islington, but such peaceful coexistence is far from the norm in our northern cities, and in poorer parts of London the cracks in the multicultural varnish are becoming more noticeable.

Appalling murders such as that of the young solicitor Thomas ap Rhys Pryce make middle-class whites flinch inwardly from an unsayable fear, that the fracturing of social life in our cities doesn’t accord with the relentlessly upbeat official version.

The full article, from the 'Sunday Times', is here.

I guess I'll have to wait for the DVD

Screenwriter Andrew Klavan, at the Libertas film blog, is on the Oscar voting viewing mill. But he has some suggestions for worthwhile films that the Academy unaccountably passed over, and which you might have missed too.

All the same, I can’t help feeling a little disgruntled about the movies the Academy decided to pass over. For instance, how could they ignore Heroes In The Sand, that incredibly stirring tribute to the fighting Americans who blasted the Taliban out of Afghanistan? And what were they thinking when they slighted Reason To Live, the biting drama about a once left-wing university professor who comes under fire when he accepts Jesus Christ as his savior? And what about Goodbye, You’re Out of Luck, the classy suspenser about a heroic 1950’s federal investigator who breaks up a ring of homegrown Communist spies?

Not only were these films ignored by the Academy, but their chances for critical recognition and box office success were severely hampered by the fact they were never made. Which is exactly why I didn’t see any of the Academy nominees when they first came out.

See, my problem with Hollywood is not about the movies it makes, it’s about the movies it never makes.

For why you're not likely to see such movies in the near future, I suggest reading the rest of his column.