This week I went to Dismaland. Dismaland mushroomed on the site of the derelict Tropicana lido in Weston-Super-Mare about a month ago, bamboozling almost everyone. No-one knew it was coming, no-one knew what it was.
It turned out to be a ghoulish ‘Bemusement Park’ conceived and executed by elusive street artist Banksy. Part art installation, part fun fair, part indictment of empathy-crushing consumer-capitalism – ‘a festival of art, amusements, and entry-level anarchism’, as the PR spiel puts it, bringing together the work of 58 artists from around the globe – it became one of the world’s most talked-about visitor attractions overnight.
Usually I’ve got no interest in art, but it was on my doorstop and only cost £3 to get in, so I decided to go. Probably unsurprisingly, given that I’m a bleak-humoured anti-capitalist who thinks Western societies have been lobotomised by consumer culture and tragically insulated from the suffering of their fellow human beings, I quite liked it.Continue reading “Not Alice’s Adventures In Dismaland”→
On Sunday, The Bemolution was pain-stakingly wafted into the back of a minibus by a crack team of rigorously drilled Oompa Loompas with hand fans and driven south for an hour or so. Our destination? A big field, and the 2014 Tolpuddle Martyrs Festival.
It was a bit underwhelming at first, because practically everything is. The fact that Tolpuddle is hyped to high heaven in left-wing circles doesn’t help either. Its most starry-eyed adherents describe it like it’s some kind of life-changing socialist Mecca that springs up in pastoral south Dorset for one week a year. Actually, it’s just quite a political summer festival. But it’s a good one. Fascinating, even. And, probably most importantly of all at this grim juncture in leftist history, encouraging.
In 1832, a group of agricultural labourers from delightfully-named Tolpuddle, Dorset formed a kind of proto-union in response to declining wages. Arrested, tried and found guilty under an arcane eighteenth century law banning the swearing of ‘secret oaths’, the six men were thrown on a boat and sent to be slaves in England’s furthest-flung colony, Australia. One colossal public outcry and an 800,000-signature petition later, all but one of the so-called Tolpuddle Martyrs was freed.
It’s a nice excuse to have a festival, supposedly commemorating the incident, really serving as a much broader celebration of the labour movement in general. And so, on one (usually) balmy weekend in July, thousands of trade unionists and assorted left-wing miscreants congregate in the snigger-inducing Piddle Valley to eat ice cream, talk about politics and march around with banners. Continue reading “Observations On Tolpuddle”→
Unfortunately, orthodox economics doesn’t look in much danger of being radically inverted any time soon. That’s a shame, because it’s what needed if we’re going to ever see an economic settlement that prioritises the needs of the majority, rather than leaving to be half-served as a side-effect of the dash for private profit.
Once the small matter of that kind of spectrum-shifting overhaul was out of the way, though, areas like Cornwall could be comprehensively lifted out of poverty, given stability and security while at the same time achieving something as momentous as it is pulsatingly urgent.
The next hundred years is likely to be the make-or-break century as far as human civilisation is concerned. Growth-obsessed hyper-capitalism has left us wobbling on the brink of environmental disaster. What we do in the next few decades will be crucial to determining how bad that disaster ends up being – it’s far too late to stop it altogether, tragically – and how well we weather it. And Britain needs to gear up to deal with this rapidly approaching new world.
Over decades, if needed, the government could invest in the people and the places that were socially scrap-heaped by Thatcherism, providing skills and training for the low-paid and the un- and erratically employed. Then it could give them stable, decently-paid jobs, building and operating wind and solar farms, constructing flood defences, desperately-needed council houses, new hospitals and new schools, and repairing and expanding transport infrastructure, among other things. It wouldn’t be just construction either – there’d be people in the offices doing the admin, people working in the canteens, people cleaning, plumbers, electricians and maintenance staff.
People will always ask where the money’s supposed to come from. We live in a country where the 1000 richest people, or 0.003% of the population, saw their wealth increase from £99bn to £413bn between 1997 and 2008. The richest 10% of British people have got more than enough money they don’t need to fund this kind of programme twice over.
That would do for the short to medium term. It would lift thousands of people out of poverty – not just because of the wages, but the finally affordable housing and the like too. Longer term, the whole economy will have to become about stability – if we’re going to survive within our environmental limits, we need to have economics without the obsession with economic growth. That means radically cutting down what we consume, and producing as much of what we do as locally as we can.
The kinds of industries have been flogged abroad over the last century – food production, all kinds of manufacturing etc – should be brought back to Britain, creating jobs aplenty. It wouldn’t be the most efficient way of doing things, but that would no longer be the point – economics would be about providing stable livelihoods and locally producing what people need to live comfortable, healthy lives, not massive profits or endless expansion.
Cornish people might wear clothes made in Cornwall, for example, eat food made in Cornwall (what kind of eco-socialism worth the name would be without state-subsidised pasties for all), live in houses build by Cornish builders. People would still come to Cornwall on holiday – even more than now, perhaps, as travellers were discouraged from making fuel-guzzling plane journeys. But the county wouldn’t be held hostage by tourism. It sounds incredibly, implausibly radical in 2014. Pre-industrialisation, people managed it for thousands of years.
In the current political climate it’s hard to think of a situation less likely to come about. But that doesn’t mean it’s not perfectly possible – and that it wouldn’t be the best thing both for the majority of humanity and the environment we depends on for our survival.
Cornwall is one of the nicest places in the world. It’s not only often spellbindingly beautiful, friendly, enigmatically Celtic and unusually progressive for provincial England, it invented the greatest pastry product in human history, the meat-and-potato-based colossus that is the Cornish pasty. It’s a culinary legacy that will live on long after the county gets swallowed by the rising Atlantic and its bakeries are only frequented by pilchards and deep-sea divers.
Upsettingly, though, Cornwall is also the poorest place in the UK. When people talk about the North/South divide, it’s fairly insulting to the perennially neglected West Country. The popular perception that there’s nothing but cows, fields and rich shire Tories south-west of Bristol is only almost completely accurate. At Parliamentary and local government level, at least – as if that’s an accurate representation of diverse local opinion under an electoral system as dismal as First Past The Post – it is mostly Blue, although the still-lingering Paddy Ashdown effect means there are patches of Yellow left over from when the then-Lib Dem leader was MP for Yeovil. It is, pretty indisputably, very rural too. But rural doesn’t always have to mean rich and agricultural.Continue reading “Consuming Cornwall: Pasties, poverty, economics beyond growth”→