Memories…

Following the last entry questioning why we study history, I would like to use this one to explore the reasons we have for remembering.

This in itself is quite a broad thing, what are we remembering, or who? To me such a question opens up two avenues, it seems we are either remembering an event (VE Day, The Norman Conquest, Martin Luther King giving that speech) or we are remembering a person (King, Winston Churchill, a soldier in the First World War).

So is remembrance equatable to ‘celebration’? Are we celebrating the events when we remember them? I do not mean ‘celebrating’ as in party hats and cake, but instead ‘celebrating’ as in we are remembering the good things about each event rather than the bad. Do we only remember the things which resulted in something positive happening? Is there a tendancy to ignore failure or defeat? (At this point, I am going to unapologetically explain that the course of this will concern WW1, but the wider issues should be considered in relation to other historical events)

On the contrary I would argue. I would suggest that as the twentieth century progressed, remembrance necessarily took the form of ‘negative remembrance’ which could be termed as mourning. 11 November is the prime example of this. Remembrance day is a time to remember the futility of war, originating after WW1 to respect the troops who had laid down their lives. It now encompasses thinking of those who were killed in WW2, or the Falklands, or the Gulf Wars. Remembrance in this case is about mourning the dead. It was meant to be indicative of the point that WW1 was the ‘war to end all wars’. These men had laid down their lives to stop another conflict happening again.

We remember things such as July 1 1916. Such as Passchendaele. Such as the sinking of the Titanic. Such as Pearl Harbour. Such as the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Such as the Holocaust. We remember the disasters of mankind much more easily than we remember the successes for example I would suggest. This, it seems, is equatable to a more general humanistic instinct, that for ‘bad news’. There is more to say about bad news than there is about good news. A rather simplisitic analogy would be football. People are quick to criticise after a defeat, but are rather more stuck for words following a win. It is easier to comment upon what went wrong than what is going right. This, I believe, is part of human nature.

So should it be any surprise that we ‘remember’ the negative things? Should we be keen to put a positive slant on things? Or will we get chastised for saying such a thing? Should we remember the loss of 20,000 men on 1 July 1916? Or should we look at the bigger picture, of tactical improvements, of learnt lessons, of victory?

The answer is obviously both. We should never forget these men, but we shouldn’t let that cloud our memory of the eventual outcome either. In a recent article on Douglas Haig, Britain’s Commander-in-Chief for much of the war, the author, Geoffrey Norman, compared Haig to Napoleon, Hannibal and Robert Lee (a general in the American Civil war who suffered at Gettysburg). The title of the article was “The Worst General” in reference to Haig, who is widely percieved as the ‘butcher of the Somme’ by modern audiences, and the article played up to the modern stereotypes of Haig (bumbling, uncaring, single-minded, unable to plan without the cavalry). The trouble with the comparisons Norman makes (away from the other tripe written in the article), is that the men he compares Haig to, all eventually lost their respective battles. Haig didn’t.

Is this remembrance then? Remembering the wrong thing? Is it better to remember something wrong than not remember something at all? In my opinion certainly not. If you are going to remember, make sure you remember for the right reasons. By all means commemorate the fallen soldiers in the cemetaries around Belgium but do not forget that all these men were killers. Reluctantly, maybe, but killers nonetheless. This shouldn’t be forgotten. Remember then their bravery, their suffering and the things that they may have had to endure. But remember the whole picture. Remember not just the Mona Lisa’s smile, but the whole portrait.

To return to the question then. Why do we remember? Is it more complex than saying we remember to avoid making the same mistakes again? Is it remembering because society says so? Do people remember because that is the standard thing to do. They are expected to do it? I will quickly relate to you the story of one of my housemates a couple of years ago. Whilst a couple of us were sat in silence at 11am on November 11, he came blundering in and asked why we were in silence. As we ignored him and continued our silence, he took offence. When he asked us later as to why we were in silence, we explained. To which his response was that if we had said, he would have shut up. Almost as though if he had had it explained to him he would have conformed. Almost as if people need to be told to remember at this time on this day.

Remembrance, I would argue then, is as much to do with conforming to what society expects as it is actually thinking about those men and women who have died in conflict. I wonder how many people actually think about the war dead at times other than on this date? Not as many I would be willing to guess.

This is wrong. Remembrance shouldn’t be a chore, it shouldn’t be something we need to be reminded to do. It should be something we actively do, something we want to do, and something we have no qualms over doing. We should remember things because they mean something to us, not because we are told to do so by social norms.

I would suggest that we remember to preserve. To preserve memories of these men, or to qualify actions, wars, or battles; and to some extent to stop the same things happening again. This is a hugely unsatisfactory answer to give though. The truth is we remember for a multitude of different reasons, each individual, and unique. However, I would suggest that for nearly everyone, social dictation is one of the contributing reasons for actively remembering.

There is so much more to say on this subject, but, I will refrain for fear of getting boring.

For My Benefit…

In just about a months time I will have what is affectionately termed a “historical reflections” paper to do. I have been sat here thinking about this essay and what it will mean. I have come to the decision (actually it was something I said a while ago) that this paper will be very similar to historical blogging (Can you see where this is going?). I therefore propose, over the course of the next few weeks to try and do some historical blogging, about general things relating to history. Feedback would be much appreciated.

So here’s the first one: Why study history at all?

This is one of these broad ranging general questions that means different things to different people. Someone might study the Second World War for example because they had a relation who was killed in it. This ‘personal’ experience is the driving force behind a study of history. This is obviously different to someone who studies the Norman Conquest. In this case such a ‘personal’ element to the study is, to my mind at least, missing. If then we cannot ascertain the reasons behind any given individuals study of history, would it be more worthwhile asking why study a certain period of history? Why for example, should we study the Norman Conquest? And, moving this question on a level, should we study the Norman Conquest ahead of the Second World War, for example? Then taking it another way, why do people feel more inclined to study ‘big’ events such as the wars or the Norman Conquest, and tend to ignore smaller, less ‘glamorous’ events such as the 1832 Reform Act? And what of ‘modern’ history? Studies into Thatcherism, or the First Iraq War would surely provide people with a greater understanding of why we are where we are today. And, more importantly, if this is the case, then why are such periods of history not taught in our schools or colleges? Why are they ignored in favour of ‘basic’ history which is spouted out by school teachers, and is, in most cases wrong or ill-informed?

And does this all relate to what the student of history wants to get out of their studies? If so, then this is, by its very definition, something completely subjective and impossible to talk about without making broad sweeping statements which may or may not be applicable to some people.

Thus far then, there are more questions than answers relating to why people would choose to study history. One of the standard responses to the question is the very cliched phrase “the past is the only place one can learn from”. In essence, this statement is true, everything is now in the past (with the exception of the future) and therefore we can only learn from history. The trouble is, that such a statement is reliant upon people actually learning. This doesn’t therefore just apply to history scholars. In reality everybody should be a historian of some description. Life, as is frequently stated, is one big learning curve, and if we run with the prior logic that the past is the only place you can learn from; and if a historian is one who studies the past, then, if we follow this logically, everyone should be a historian, studying and learning from the past. The trouble is, not everything is this clear cut. Logic very often doesn’t really apply.

So we return then to the initial question, why study history at all? As has been shown, there can be no clear cut reason for undertaking such studies. Often an amalgamation of factors contributes to one taking up the challenge. Studying history, as has been shown, raises more questions than it ever satisfactorily answers. Yet the indefatiguable want for knowledge is one which, to some extent, is fulfilled by history. There are few other subjects with such a wide range of fields. In fact, it could very plausibly and easily be argued that no other subject is as important as history. History is the metaphorical subject umbrella which houses every other subject under the sun. There is history of science, history of art, history of music, of religion, of politics, of individuals. History is everywhere.

Which is why everyone is touched by it. Which is why everyone relates to it in some form or other every day. Our towns and villages are littered with references, symbols, reminders of the past. Wander down ‘Coronation Road’ or ‘ Oak Tree Lane’ and try to appreciate why they were so called, look at the statue of someone standing in the town square and work out who they were and why they have been remembered. Memorials of those who died in the wars are common sights across smaller villages and the coverage that Remembrance Sunday gets every year is testament to the continuing importance of history to our society.

So perhaps the question should be not why study history at all, but instead why not study history? Why not consider the importance of various events which have helped shape the society in which we live today? Scientists often counter this with the simplistic “without science you wouldn’t have medicines, technology, electricity and the like”. I would suggest that without history, we would have even less…

The Power of Prayer…

Now I know that this example is neither a new thing, nor is it all that uncommon. But everytime I see a story like it, I cringe.

I am stuck between wondering how stupid the parents were before their child died, and how much their faith has comforted them after she did.  Now, as I’m sure most of you are aware, I am very definately not into this whole religious thing. To me it doesn’t add up. However, I accept that people are religious, and even tolerate this belief. Until they go and do stupid things like this.

Religion is a nice idea for those who want to believe in it. I don’t. However, the thinking that some higher deity can, and more importantly will, interfere in peoples lives is, quite frankly, idiotic. If, and there’s a big if here, God does exist, surely he would interfere to help every sick or dying person, rather than just one in the middle of America.

And then there is the issue of what the parents do after their child died.  They have one of two options:

a) renounce their faith as their God will have let them down.

or b) attribute the death to not praying enough, feel completely remorseless for the death, and continue in the same naive fashion hoping that enough praying will resurrect the girl.

Newsflash. It won’t. The girl is now dead because two muppet parents thought the power of belief alone could save her. Rather than simply going to the doctors and getting the care that was needed to save the girls life.

Whilst I’m sorry that the girl died, I feel no sympathy for the parents, and just wish this would be a lesson to other such religious people. The age old battle between science and religion seems to rumble on. I just wish that for the fanatical religious people, there could be some recognition that the two could maybe co-exist. This case seems to show otherwise.

Stand up straight…

Ever one for cutting news, I thought I would just have a quick think about the recent concerns about armies and schools.

At my school we had, every year, a careers ‘festival’ (I am still not quite sure why it was so called, but anyway…). At this event there were at least a hundred different professions or universities represented by someone. One of which was the armed forces. Now I attended three of these events during my school life, the first was when I was 15. I considered myself old enough to not be ‘brainwashed’ by any of the careers which were on show there. I readily accepted that all came with the intention of pulling students into this career or that career. Maybe this explains why I have not found anything I really enjoyed doing yet, or maybe it doesn’t.

Anyway, the point is, I didn’t know anyone who absolutely knew what they wanted to do at that age. Nor did they a year later. Nor a year after that. Not completely at any rate. People have ideas of what field they might want to go into by the time they are 17, but not the actual job.

One of my mates was, when he was 16, dead keen to be in the navy. This eagerness continued through his school life, but he didn’t leave after his GCSE’s, and instead completed his A Levels. Now when I say dead keen, I really mean it. The navy stand was the only one he would ever go to, and he would spend ages and ages talking to the people about life in the navy. He was more than interested. Yet he didn’t join up after his GCSE’s. Someone talked him out of it, somehow.

This friend is now studying business at uni, and, the last time I checked, has given up on a career in the armed forces in any capacity.

My point is that people change their minds. I mean, if I had stuck to my plan, I would be on my way to being an architect now. And, let me assure you, I’m not.

Because of this though, I agree that we should allow the army into schools to talk to people about future careers. To my mind it is the same as someone from a lawyers office, or a doctors practise, or a hairdressing salon coming and talking about their work. To me, the students need to know what is out there. The armed forces is a career that is out there. So it makes sense to let them talk about what they do.

Now I do disagree with the idea of people signing up at 16. That is too young for me. Let them sign up at 18 if they so wish, two years initial training, with the option to opt out at certain points is, to me, much better than the same thing began two years earlier. But I think that they should know about the options and reach a decision as they are growing up. Just like they know about what it is a hot- shot lawyer does, for example.

I do not buy into this whole ‘propaganda’ talk. I think it is part and parcel of society nowadays, and I’m sure desires to be a doctor for example are because of the ‘glamourous’ nature of the doctors that are on tv (the guy from Lost, for example). That is as bad, to me, as recruitment posters for the army which glamourise the work they do.

It is all propaganda I think (rather cynically). A glossy brochure showing why its great being a lawyer or doctor or hairdresser is part of the aim for each of these businesses, to attract more people in. The army should be allowed to do the same. But it shouldn’t want to start this recruitment drive at 16.

Just as way of an afterthought, but for anyone else who had, or went to similar events, was there ever anyone there from the workshop floor of a factory for example? Or who drove lorries? I know there wasn’t for me, but then again, I went to a private school…

More train thinking…

Right, returning to the stream of conciousness that was yesterday, I want to elaborate on a topic which I’m sure everyone has some interest in.

Music.

It seems to have a knack of being hugely applicable to the situation you are in at any point. Take yesterday for example. As I was pulling out of New Street one very apt song launched itself into my ears. “Last Train Home” by the Lost Prophets began its familiar introduction, and all I could do was smile at how my ipod has a unique sense of timing, as I sat trying to blot out the crying baby.

As I had sat though with my earphones in for most of the preceeding thirty minutes, I reflected on how most of those songs reminded me of something before. Be it sharing a moment with someone, or just a song which happened to be playing in the background, or a song which reminds me of the band live; songs just have a peculiar way of bringing back memories. Some songs bring back one specific memory, others a certain period of time in your life.

And that’s before you start hearing the lyrics. Very often the best songs are the ones with the worst lyrics. Take my favourite song, “Mr Brightside”. The lyrics to it are simplistic and repetitive. Yet when added to good music they become meaningful. They become something to which I can relate.

And there are other songs. Ones which don’t necessarily have good music, but are lyrically superb. These are the songs which you don’t necessarily think of when picking your favourite songs. But they mean something. They evoke thoughts, and feelings, and very often can be related to. And this made me think. Songs can be like horoscopes.

Let me explain. Horoscopes are basically rubbish written by someone who enjoys star-gazing but dislikes the science behind it. They are broad sweeping statements relating to things which are common in everyones life: “you will meet someone…”- yes, almost certainly. Unless I box myself in a room for another week in order to prove the prediction wrong. The readers of horoscopes then take what has been said and manipulate it to fit their own life. “Ooh, I did meet someone this week…”, for example. To me, songs can do the same thing.

If the singer sings about experiences or thoughts, I have the tendancy to try and place such templates of emotion over my own life. If a singer sings about meeting someone somewhere, I place myself, and all the people in my life into this pre-made template. I  (and I’m guessing I’m not alone here) fit the song to my own life, making the song about the actors in the play of me. Making the thoughts my own. There’s a quality to music which draws some very base instinct out of oneself. It plays to emotion. Perhaps that is just to do with the music I listen to, but I like to think that everyones music tastes (no matter how much I dislike them) are created because the music, or the songs, mean something to them.

For me, I like music where I can feel emotion in the singer’s voice. It makes them real. It makes them human. It is much more preferable to the mono-syllabic monotonous noise that is rapping, or the thumping repetitive nature of dance music. But this is only my opinion. Obviously tastes vary.

So sat there as I was thinking about the music which was playing away into my ears, and still doing my best to blot out the screaming little brat on the other side of the carriage, another song sprung into life. “Fix You” by Coldplay. This too was apt. Fix You I thought.  Yeah, that baby needs fixing…

Train thinking…

Whilst on the train home today, many thoughts flitted, briefly across my mind. Now, unlike some people, I love my train ride home. In no time at all, I go from being in the centre of one of the biggest cities in the UK, to going through sleepy villages. It isn’t just the contrasting scenery though. There are so many elements of the journey I enjoy.

My journey takes me through history. In a mere forty minutes from Birmingham, I can experience culture, heritage and colour. My journey through the Black Country, takes me past deserted old brick buildings which have had all their windows smashed in over the course of time. Yet they still have the names of their former owners plastered on the side, standing as part of reminder of a distant time just itching to re-establish itself. These buildings are a brilliant red brick colour still, and co-ordinate themselves marvellously with the rust of old metalworks which likewise occur along the side of the railway. The reminders of the industrial heritage of this region are constant as you stare out of the window, trying to escape the noisy baby in the seat opposite you.

It isn’t just the industrial side of things though either. There are swathes of greenery cut into this harsh landscape. There is also the contrast between old and new. There are new roads, new warehouses and new businesses which all struggle for space along the railway line. All of them appear to have a silver fetish, being, as everything seems to be nowadays, coloured a sterile silver. In comparison to the previous brickworks, this is just plain boring. But I find the contrast an amazing thing to see. Side by side are buildings, designed for a certain business seperated by at least one hundred years. And they co-exist marvellously. Indeed, if it wasn’t for the absence of windows and the rather hastily scrawled graffiti on the older buildings, you could see them still being operated in the same way they were in the 1800s. And this is brilliant. I can think of few places where industrial heritage is as important as it is for those in the Black Country. I can think of fewer still who are proud of what they are and where they came from in the manner than people from the Black Country are. Heritage isn’t just something that has happened, it is still very much an active part of everyday life.

And so I returned to my journey, fresh from thinking about heritage, to see one of the many metal horses dancing its way along the train line towards Birmingham. These horses are an amazing thing. Not individually you understand, on their own they are rusting, bent by the wind or vandals, and forlorn. Collectively, the ten or so horses which run alongside the track from Wolverhampton to Birmingham, through the Black Country, are something thought provoking and wonderful. They are there. I see them every time I go home. Yet I haven’t thought about them, until today. What are they there for? What do they symbolise? Why are they all facing Birmingham?

There are more questions than answers about these creatures from me I’m afraid. I don’t know what they symbolise. I think of progress, but then, if it’s progress, is it not hypocritical to use them in a place where machines and technology took off in Britain, if not the world?

Why are they running towards Birmingham? Is it just a chance co-incidence? Poor design on the creators part? Or something more meaningful? What is wrong with Wolverhampton that these creatures are all motioning towards Birmingham? What is the draw of Birmingham? Perhaps this is the point, do they symbolise the millions of people who migrated to the city to find work and live? Or is it something different?

Who put them there? And when? Were they built around the railway? Were they just meant to be a decoration, something to liven the journey? Is it just me looking for meaning in something in which none exists? Were there more than I can see now? If so, how many? If anyone can explain the horses I would be delighted to know.

There were other thoughts which radiated into my consciousness during the train journey, and I will blog about them at some other point I’m sure. But for now I am content with wondering how many other journeys across Britain provoke the same level of contemplation. Or how many have the screaming baby which you just want to escape? I’m guessing the latter has more takers than the former.

The Consequence of the Wrong Action…

This will be brief, and to the point. I have mentioned on here and on the Strawberry why I think deporting Ama Sumani may have been the wrong call. I stand by that. At least though, the British officials’ mistake was short lived.

Ms Sumani died on Wednesday.

She died just hours after being told that people had found her doctors to treat her condition. She is survived by two children, aged 16 and 7.

I am hopeful that the case of Ama Sumani will highlight some things about our systems in what, if you believe things, is meant to be the ‘democratic west’.

Rest In Peace Ama.

A Pat on the Back and a Job Well Done…

I dislike award ceremonies. Not just because the last thing I won was in year 7, but because to me they represent something which is devolved from the initial point. Struggling to say it more eloquently than that, I feel examples are needed.

Last night was the Guild Awards. A night of fun and festivities whereby various prominent members of the student community are given awards to tell them how good they are at any given thing. To me, it seems that the Awards are an opportunity for these people to pat themselves on the back and further convince themselves that they are doing a good job. Which, it could be argued, they are not. At least not across the board, and whilst things such as the Vale Festival may be a growing success, there are other areas of student life which are noticably less successful. There are still plenty of other, smaller, groups which, in my opinion, because they do not have the vociferous characters that other groups do, fail to get the attention that maybe they deserve. There is a huge variety of different societies, groups and student organisations out there. So why does it seem to be the same people who are in the running for the awards? Now this may be unfair, I haven’t seen either the runners for the awards, nor have I seen the winners. Yet I would be willing to bet that the usual candidates were very much there, ready to praise themselves for another good year. Right.

A good year, for me, would have been unprecendented growth across the board, in societies, as well as in other things. Student participation, I would also be willing to bet, has either decreased, or at best, remained constant. There are three things which to me seem indicative of this.

Firstly Redbrick. The student paper (which in my opinion has gone downhill recently, but that’s another issue) which is, at the moment, really crying out for new writers, or sub-editors, or other contributors. When I first started writing for the paper there was a huge amount of people who would frequently write, providing a wide range of thoughts on a wide range of topics. Now they are struggling to convince people to continue writing. At the start of the academic year, naturally, there was a huge amount of interest in writing for Redbrick. Freshers came in with an idea of being a proactive journalist and contributing to a widely read organ. This illusion was quickly shattered (the amount of actual reporting is limited to just the ‘big’ stories, and, in all honesty, it isn’t widely read) and people became disinterested. Now I know that there are lots of people interested in the media. I have been to the Careers Centre Media day for the past two years, and at both events there was comfortably more than 200 people. This leads me to think that there is the interest in Journalism, and the media is there, but Redbrick, contrary to what it should be doing, is failing to encourage people to contribute, and is also failing to grow in terms of readership. There is more that could be said on this issue, but, like Redbrick, I shall abandon things here as there are things I wish to say about other issues.

Secondly then, elections. The success (which I will admit it was) of the Referendum back at the start of term was celebrated as having saved the Guild (and, in all honesty, FAB nights). Great. This was put very much into perspective by the elections for various roles in the Guild more recently. The lowest turnout for nearly twenty years, to me, doesn’t indicate that things are going well. It only serves to prove that the Referendum vote was anomalous. The election results are more telling, and are more indicative of the current state of student affairs. Not enough people really care. At a university of 28,000 students, this is a bad thing. At a university which may be disgruntled because there are now three (?) other universities in the city which are threatening to disrupt the face of university study in Birmingham, getting some 1500 votes for student president, to me is nowhere near good enough. Now it maybe that I have to great an expectation of the university students. However I am inclined to think that it is more likely that student affairs and issues do not adequately mainfest themselves in the things that bodies in and around the Guild do. People don’t care because the Guild is not doing enough to make them care. As evidenced by the referendum, if you really connect with the people things can begin to improve in terms of involvement.

Finally then, a point which links into the last one. Everything about the Guild is cliquey. I do not care what anybody says in defence of this point, the sheer fact that at any Guild releated event you will see the same people only serves to prove this to me. The Guild is a big playhouse for the few. Not the many. I will argue this all day long. By this I mean that the day to day activities in the Guild involve the same people. Things such as FAB are not of concern because they do not involve thinking about- students go to get drunk, irrespective of anything else. So many different events that happen within the Guild happen in front of the select few rather than the many more who should be, and probably are, interested. Discussions of how to improve the Guild involve the same people (of which I admit I am one) throwing the same things around, only to be told that propositions are impossible to implement for one reason or another. I am left wondering how this is possibly going to attract more people into using the various facilities that the Guild offers. I was in the Arc recently getting advice on a housing contract. I was sat in there for about ten minutes waiting, and in that time I saw five people walk past the entrance, and one other person who came into the room. Now it may have been a slow day, but I would be willing to guess that most days are like that.

The Guild has the potential to be so much more than it is, but until it steps away from patting itself on the back and thinking it is doing well, and actually takes a good hard look at itself, things won’t improve. And this isn’t just on the political side of things, it is in relation to the societies as well. Getting lots of people to sign up during freshers is all very well and good, but keeping their interest is the harder part, and, I’m sure that most, if not all, societies see a decline in student attendance during the course of the year. By all means therefore, have these award ceremonies, but only when they are justified. I don’t think that will happen for a few years yet. To me, such ceremonies are similar to a mid-table football team with aspirations of success, like mine, having end of season awards. They may be nice, but they shouldn’t mask the fact that there are still glaring problems.

Right. Rant over.

And the winner is…?

Now I’m not usually one for celebrity gossip. But the recent saga involving ‘I’m-better-than-Lennon-was’ McCartney and ‘Hopalong’ Mills is just beyond me. Having split up due to media invasions of their private life, Ms Mills demanded £125million in settlements. Today she got £24.3million.  And naturally, she’s “very, very happy”.

Well who wouldn’t be?

That’s still £10million-ish more than McCartney was willing to pay her, but a substantial amount less than she really wanted. The money will enable her to provide a decent life for herself, and her child. And save the world in the process.

I’m sorry. I think it is morally wrong to be demanding such an obscene sum of money in the first place. I think Mills deserved a lot less than the final settlement gave her. And I think Macca will be glad to see the back of her.

I thought about this £24.3million. I wondered what I could buy with it. Theres a few things that spring to mind.

A lower league football club?

Fernando Torres?

A decent house (£1mill-ish)?

A yacht?

Enough fancy gadgets to last a lifetime?

Or, and here’s the radical thought (so bear with me), you could (note could) give some to charity. What an idea that is. Now I know that there are obscene amounts of money in football. And I really don’t like it, but, as they say, it’s the nature of the beast. So what sort of beast does that make Mills? Apart from a wealthy one?

I wonder how much of this £24.3million will actually go to charity? Of which, we all know, Mills is fond. And how much will buy her a swanky flat in London, as well as a holiday home in the Bahamas and a New York apartment. And I wonder if the two are proportional?

Maybe I’m being too hard on Mills, maybe she does need all that money to put her kid through university and private education (upwards of £30,000 through the course of the kids academic life maybe?). Maybe she does need somewhere to escape the threatening media who are intent upon destroying her life. Maybe.

Sorry, I’m not convinced. Mills is 40 now. Say, she manages to live until she is 80. Thats another 40 years. Which, if my math is correct, is £607,500 a year. Now I know a lot of people who would love to be bringing that home a year. The highest paid doctors are paid way less than that a year. Mills doesn’t ever have to do any work ever again. Ever. And she will still be swimming through the mounds of cash she has ‘earned’ today.

My gripe here is less to do with the figures though. It’s more the way this money has been earned. Now Macca earned that cash, through doing something he loved. He gave people entertainment, and has been hugely successful. If he has been successful for doing something, then fine. That, in my opinion is ok. But for Mills to come wandering into his life, marry him (although I’m still not sure why they got married in the first place), hang around for four years, claim a divorce because of the media intrusion, and then march out with a cool £24.3million? It’s gotta be one of the longest running, but best bank heists ever…

The futility of comparison…

I’m usually sceptical of comparing things. I’ve had it drilled into me from a young age that if you want to compare things, then make sure that you are comparing like with like. You cannot therefore compare the hare and the tortoise for example, as they are different creatures.

Yet, as I was meandering my way through my work with little or no clear direction, a thought struck me. The “Pals Battalions” in the First World War, were, I think, comparable to Japanese kamikazee pilots of the Second World War.

Let me explain. I won’t bore people with a description of the pilots, I think people are knowledgable enough to understand what they did.

To the soldiers in the war then let me turn. These men, who had it drilled into them that signing up to the war was something noble and good, and in doing so could be seen as protecting the British Empire from the threat of the villainous Germans; willingly signed themselves up to fight in, what ostensibly is the worst conflict from a British perspective ever. Not that they were to know that of course. Yet as the war dragged on into its second or third year, there was a growing realisation of the nature of the conflict: rats, water, blood, death, lice and all. Despite this people still arrived at the front, to replace those who had been killed, injured, or moved. Obviously there was conscription, and many of these men had little choice in being made to go to the front.

These men were made to attack. That was their goal. Unlike the Germans, the Allies had to regain the occupied ground. For the Germans the war quickly became a case of what we have we hold.

The soldiers therefore were made to go ‘over the top’. That was pretty much the only reason they were there. They were there to effectively go to their deaths. Now some will argue, and I think I agree, that in war, people have to die. That is a given. The morality of whether there should be wars in the first place is another issue entirely, for another day.

What seperates the British soldiers from any other soldiers though is that their one objective was to attack. Every man in the trenches would have recognised this, I’m sure. You have no greater sense of your own morality until you face your death, or so I hear. Therefore the men in the trenches must have known they would die. Thus far, I think, nothing should be a surprise.

If though, that was what they were ‘built’ for, then really, were they any different to the kamikazee pilots? Both groups knew they would die, yet both groups kept attacking. Now there is the argument that both sets of fighters had little choice but to continue operating in the same way, for fear of being court-martialled and shot. Or whatever the Japanese equivalent is. For me, this instead serves to show how both armies were good at spinning their story to make it seem like everything was worth the cause. Including your life.

“The British Empire is worth your one life isn’t it? Democracy, liberty, principles, order. Are these things not worth laying your life down for?” That is effectively what the British government were saying.

Lots and lots of men agreed, signed up, and died for the cause. Willingly. Knowing that they would die, they still signed up. Like the pilots.

Now, if you take this logically further, this is the same as implying that anybody who signs up for the army is the same as a kamikazee pilot. But to run with that trail of thought is missing my point I feel. I am not comparing modern soldiers with the Japanese. Very clearly not. I am comparing two groups of people who willingly signed up to die, which, I feel, is different to todays army where improvements in ranging and targeting mean that fighting now can be done more easily without seeing the enemy.

Yes there was hugely different circumstances, but human nature, I feel, is a constant thing. The two groups would both have a much clearer knowledge that they were going to die than anyone in modern armies.

Moving forward then, I feel that the British soldier had the much harder job than the Japanese pilot. The pilot, if things went well, could bomb down on his target, pass out under the pressure, and be dead before he knew it. The British soldier, having climbed out of the watched trench, would move (either by running or walking) across no-mans-land with lots of German guns spraying bullets in his general direction. If, by some miracle, he made it to the other side, he then had to negotiate his way through lots of barbed wire (still being shot at remember) and into the German trench. If he made it this far, he would find lots of Germans ready to shoot him and kill him. Basically, the attackers stood little or no chance in Trench Warfare. They would, almost inevitably, die.

I shall leave this before I get too lost in giving a history lesson.  Having made this comparison though between the Japanese and the soldiers, there is one thing that they have in common, they died. This should be the one thing that gets remembered, and leads me to my title. I can compare them as much as I want, as can everyone else. What should be remembered though is that they died. For this.