Damming the River…

I am reliably informed by the BBC that today is the 40th anniversary of Enoch Powell’s infamous “Rivers of Blood ” speech. Obviously I was aware of the speech, and the fallout from it, but, like many others I’m guessing, would not have been able to tell you when it was made. Incidently, the name given to the speech is something of a misnomer, as nowhere in the speech did Powell ever say “rivers of blood”, but merely alluded to a passage from Virgil’s Aeneid. But that’s neither here nor there.

As a Black Country boy, I feel almost happy that Powell put Wolverhampton on the map, although I wish it was in better circumstances. I remember the first time I heard the name of Powell. We were in a history lesson and had been asked to do projects on something that interested us. A classmate chose Powell, but it didn’t really register with me the significance of the man.

Obviously he has aroused a huge amount of controversy, both at the time, and since. I am amazed by the general feelings of support that still float around the place. Just a quick scan through the hits that Google provides indicates to me that the thoughts of Powell still resonate with many people. So was Powell really speaking for the people? Unfortunately I think that he was. At least in the 1960s. I’m not so sure that the views are as prevalent any more. That is not to say they no longer exist, far from it, the small but vocal support for the BNP serves to prove this.

The whole affair though serves to raise an interesting question from a political point of view. Should governments act on behalf of the majority which elected them (generally), even if the issues they are acting upon are morally and ethically flawed? I ask this in light of the “Commonwealth Immigrations Act” which was brought in around the same time as Powell was making his name in politics. The population, generally, responded positivey to the act, although it was, at least according to The Spectator, “one of the most immoral pieces of legislation to have emerged from any British Parliament”. Is this indicative of the government appeasing the voters against the tide of common sense? Or was it a necessary step to avoid unrestricted access to British infrastructure, something which, if remaining unchecked, could have collapsed Britain?

Finally to conclude this brief piece I think it is interesting to note how quickly reputations can be broken. Powell was a hugely intelligent, well-educated, respected man. That he has been portrayed as some idiotic racialist following the speech is, to me at least, wrong. Now I disagree with most of what he said in that speech, but I will not pretend that he was stupid. Which perhaps makes the whole affair worse.

For the moment, the jury remains out on Powell, some see him as an “enormous folk hero, a tribune of Britain’s silent white majority” (Racist Nation? BBC History, March), others see him as a repugnant character, representative of very distinctly right wing approach to immigration. For me, I see him as someone who proved to be ultimately miguided, but who’s head was in the right place.

Countering the Facts…

I return after my two week hiatus full of various ideas, opinions and thoughts, some of which I shall undoubtedly put down in words at some point. However first things first. Being the slower reader that I am, it was only last week that I read a piece by Dominic Sandbrook on the First World War. The thoughts of other people on the article are here to read. The article, basically suggested that Britain didn’t need to go to war in 1914, and if she hadn’t, Europe would have been fine under the control of Germany.

Now, as much as I find counter-factual history entertaining, this cannot, to my mind at least, claim to be ‘good’ history writing. For me, the suggestion that had Britain not entered the war, the likes of Hitler and Stalin would never have cast their long shadows over the 20th Century, is flawed. I cannot, in all honesty, understand the ‘what if’ arguments. They have the misfortune of doing two things. The first is that they make the writer seem, bigoted, arrogant, and consequently, stupid. Having read a lot of Sandbrook’s other stuff I know that this isn’t the case. Yet his thoughts that it was, in fact, very easy to opt out of the war, thereby avoiding the millions of deaths that came to pass, are basically nonsense.

However, the second reason that ‘what if’s?’ should be disgarded is one of common sense. They are neither useful nor productive to consider. They do not change the facts of the matter, nor do they change thoughts about the matter. They do very little but theorise about the possible outcomes of events had they not happened the way they did.

“What if Harold was not killed by that arrow in the eye at Hastings in 1066?”

“What if Cook had missed New Zealand and Australia?”

“What if Hitler hadn’t been elected in 1932?”

“What if 9/11 had never happened?”

All are interesting questions to think about, but ultimately meaningless. The trouble is, they all did happen, and consequently shaped history.

The emphasised quote on the page of Sandbrook’s article read “Had Britain stayed out of the First World War, our recent history- and that of Europe- would have been a good deal rosier”. I am struggling to find the words to explain how stupid and flawed this idea is. Sandbrook presents a picture that suggests that it was a simple case of saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’, as if someone simply asked the question “Does anyone fancy going to war today chaps?”.

The reality, as anyone with half any iota of intelligence will tell you, was very different. A complex series of agreements, both verbal and written, as well as a concern for Britain’s own empire and the security of Europe were all contributory causes for Britain’s entry into the war. It is ironic therefore that as a result of entering the war, Britain eventually came to losing most of her empire by the 1950s. But this is to stray away from the point.

My own point, albeit briefly discussed here, is that counter-factual history is really a very flawed, ultimately stupid, waste of time for people who like to think that they are intelligent. It avoids tackling the big questions in favour of the hypothetical nonsense. It contributes nothing to debate surrounding these topics. It seems to me that it is just a timewasting device for the historian until they can actually find something worthwhile contrbuting to the discussion.

Historical Reasonings…

Following my thoughts yesterday about the actual act of studying history, I thought I would elaborate further on this point. I would therefore like to question just what the role of the historian is in todays society.

The final qualification to that is important, I feel that to some degree the role of the historian has changed over time, and as a consequence todays historians (of which I think I am part) are entirely different creatures to those who were involved in recording history 100, 200  or 1000 years ago.

For me, I see a clear difference between ‘recording history’ which, to my mind was the job of those employed by the victors, of whom I was talking yesterday; and actually being a historian.

This though opens up a whole new avenue of questions. The most obvious one to ask is what does the historian do if not record history? To this, I feel the answer is simple. Historians (from a modern perspective) offer a comment on historical events. The historian in this case does not simply recite facts, but instead offers justifications for these ‘facts’. History therefore, simply put, is opinion. No historian can, by this logic, be wrong. They have their own interpretations of different events and they have considered the evidence to form a conclusion.

Except we all know that historians can be wrong. Naturally my thoughts turn to David Irving, the well known Holocaust denier. I am not going to try and justify him, or his thoughts, that is beyond me. Society has dictated that his thoughts about the Holocaust are wrong, and (shock horror) I agree with what society says here.

So, if historians can be wrong, there must be something which says that they are wrong. This limiter, as already intimated, is social values. There are topics which are taboo in all societies, and this necessarily means that they are not ‘open’ for discussion from anyone, except to conform to the already outlined social values. The issue of social values is another interesting one, but will not be explored further here.

To return then to the issue of what the historian does. If the historian does not simply record facts, then what do they do? There is the oft churned out line that historians are there to ensure that the mistakes of the past are never repeated. However, this flies in the face of my other premise, that is, history is cyclical. If we just run with this for a moment, the logical implication that it makes is that the historian is somehow failing to to do their job because the history keeps repeating itself under new guises. If therefore the historian is failing, what is their role in a world which will keep playing out similar scenarios dressed up in different clothing for the rest of time?

Of course these latter musings work on one very big premise, that is, is history cyclical. I think it is. I think broad general patterns have thus far emerged in history which serve to indicate this: a technical revolution (iron age, industial revolution) followed by war seems to a generalisation that can be made I feel. Dictatorial leaders emerging (Hussein, Stalin, Hitler, Napoleon, back to Caesar) getting too big for their own good, and being destroyed. Human growth followed by a natural disaster to check it.

The trouble with the cyclical history idea is that it is broad, sweeping, and vague. When the details are explored further there seems little which unites the two comparative periods. Nonetheless, I maintain that history does indeed act in cycles, albeit very large cycles.

In which case, does that mean that the role of the historian is a redundant one? If history is repeating, the same mistakes are being made, and the historians are thereby failing the the assumed task which I stated earlier. Such a claim though ignores the point that cyclical history does not stop the world developing, it merely suggests that the same basic patterns of human behaviour are mapped out onto varying circumstances, as dictated by the time. Therefore, in essence, the historian still very much has a role to play, regardless of whether cyclical history is something which is happening.

What then is this role? For the first time in a while, I am drawing a blank. I’m not sure what the historians role actually is, and whether this is different to what it should be. Should historians be there to open the eyes of the people to varying understandings of events? Should historians by very much like political parties, you declare yourself as agreeing with one about something, and stick to that? Such thinking presumes the role of the historian is a public one. What about the personal aspect of studying history? Surely some people are historians due to a thirst for knowledge about the subject in hand? Should historians only want to further enlighten themselves, or should their concerns lie with educating more people?

The point of all this is that I remain unclear what the role of the historian is. Perhaps historians are just there to be yet another voice in the crowd offering opinions about something. The real question that must be asked is should it matter what the role of the historian is in modern society? Is it not enough to know that there are historians and they do contribute to the wider understanding of any given period, whether this is for their gain, or for someone elses. If then I cannot work out what the role of the historian is, perhaps we should consider where we would be today without historians. For starters we wouldn’t have Gordon Brown as Prime Minister (he has a PhD in history).  Nor would we have had John Prescott or David Blunkett. It is also questionable how far Jonathan Ross, Sacha Baron Cohen or Louis Theroux would have got without their degrees in history.  Considering that list, some may say we would be better off without historians…

Historical winners…

There is a general historical myth which explains simply that “history is written by the winners”. I wish to explore such an idea briefly.

Call me old-fashioned if you will, but the stereotypical conception of a historian is someone old, surrounded by hundreds of dust covered books peering at you disdainfully over the top of his or her round glasses. To me (as a historian), it used to be only these people who wrote history, and what they wrote stood.

Obviously as I have progressed, that image has been shattered by meeting various historians for whom such a cliche does not fit the bill. Likewise whatever they write should nearly always be treated with a hint of suspicion. Why are they writing, and what are they writing for? What do they hope to achieve in writing these works?

The phrase with which I opened already seems a tad simplistic. The obvious problems I have with the word “written” is nothing compared to the problems I have justifying who the “winners” were at any given time in history. Would it then be more accurate to suggest that history is not written by the winners (who ever they may be) but instead is written about the winners?

This latter thought though is still not entirely true. As I mentioned in my previous post, there are characters throughout the course of history who lost yet still have books aplenty written about them (Harold Godwinson, Napoloen Bonaparte, Charles I, and Adolf Hitler to name but a few). The implication of the statement is that the information we have available is from sources which were either sympathetic towards the ‘victors’ or had been influenced by the ‘victors’ in some way. This, it seems to me, is a problem for historians who are concerned with older periods of history. The twentieth century saw expansion of documentation from all sides of any conflict on a scale unknown previously. For those who study earlier periods, there is less in the way of this quantity of resources for the historian to work with. Obviously, this becomes more of a problem the further back you go, written documentation from the early medieval period, for example, is much more patchy than documents from the Second World War. We have few sources from the earlier period, and those we have, such as Bede’s Ecclesiastical History, and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle are woefully unreliable for basic information (dates and names for example).

This then helps give rise to the myth that history was written by the winners. Older documents like the two named above, are examples of the winners recording a history which was favourable to them (Bede wanted to show the growth and significance of the church for example).  For the historically naive person, that would be where it stops. However, there is a growing concern amongst historians of these periods to think about the social aspects of the period, and aided by archeology, this can, to some extent by commented upon.

History, I would argue, is not written by the winners, nor is it written about the winners, at least not exclusively. Historians of the modern era are writing about various different elements of historical study, including social history, including military history, including counter-factual history. These studies are being made into a wide variety of time periods too. Post-modernist thought has lead to a widespread re-evaluation of historical understanding, and consequently history is no longer about the winners. It’s also becoming less about those who take part. History is becoming something much different. It is becoming something that the bespectacled dinosaur buried underneath books and manuscripts would barely recognise.

It is becoming popular.

And, I maintain, it is because of this one development, history can no longer be written by, or about the winners. History must be wide reaching enough to continue to engage with people who are suddenly fascinated by how people suffered bubonic plague, or how Joe Bloggs reacted to the reformation of the church. Popularity of the subject, I feel, necessarily means that history cannot be about those exclusive men or groups who won a battle.

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.