Monday 6 October 2008

Leaders

As I start this blog, I’m a bit worried it’ll turn into a rant. I try my best to be balanced but I feel a bit irritable with what I hear on the news at the moment. After all, we are in the middle of a banking crisis of spectacular proportions.

There’s a song by a little known Manchester band, the Sun and the Moon. In their song, A Matter of Conscience, Mark Burgess sings, "I follow no-one, I lead myself."

This lyric has a double edge – or, at least two ways to understand it. On one hand, I don't like its individualistic tone. I think individualism is a bit of a myth. It’s a state of mind and too easily exaggerated and manipulated. On the other hand, the lyrics perfectly articulate how I feel about politics. Humans are social animals but this can lead to a herd-like mentality. And herds unfortunately need leaders.

I'm sick of leaders. Up until recently, I worked for an organisation that was led by a man who fitted perfectly the clinical diagnostic criteria for Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Down to a tea. I emailed the clinical criteria to some colleagues (without revealing what the list related to) and asked what I was describing. Everybody, without exception, assumed I was describing the Chief Exec. I dare say this helped get him where he was but he was a deeply dysfunctional and unpleasant character. I don’t know what his approach was at the started but as time went on, his blurring of the lines between professional advancement and personal gain, I believe, were inevitable. That's what people like that do.

But anyway, politicians are responsible for my current irritation so let me talk about them.

There was a particular 'type' at school. This awkward minority was no good at football, had little interest in pop music or TV and generally had difficulty fitting in. I remember one boy in particular who, for the life of him, couldn't get the hang of a trampoline. It remains one of the funniest video clip memories in my collection.

These pupils were the teenage Times readers. They were outside the mainstream because they excluded themselves. As far as I know, the small number of this type at my school went on to well paid jobs. And on a wider scale, it seems that a subset of this group get involved with mainstream politics.

Take a look at the audience of any political party conference. The seats are full of 'em. And let's face it, they're an odd bunch. This unappealing shower, this collection of misfits, is the crop from which our professional politicians are picked.

Watch the news to see the daily round of political photo-opportunities. This is where these nerd-do-wells 'mix' with us, the plebs, to make themselves look accessible. They go to schools and kick footballs, they go to amusement parks and ride on the log flume, they go to retirement homes and drink tea with the geriatrics.

Just watch the discomfort on their faces. Marvel at their awkward attempts to smile. Being part of the population is as unnatural to a politician as trampolining was to my former schoolmate.

To make things worse, they're followed by an entourage of national media. Like a hideous food chain, these useless people churn out statistics and vacuous statements every single day. Our equally unappealing media swallow what they can before regurgitating it for their readers. Everyone, from the be-suited commuters to the hard-hatted labourers take it in – and it's little but propaganda, lies and emptiness.

In the current banking crisis, it's been interesting to see the laissez faire Tories squirm as an irresponsible free market leads us into recession. Their awful party, funded by big business as it always has been, defines itself on reducing state intervention. On the government's side, I've heard Gordon Brown (the Prime Minister, for goodness sake) spin his record in office by stating that interest rates ran to 15% under the Tories. He is referring to Black Wednesday in 1992 when the incompetent Tories upped interest rates to 15% for about three hours. Brown using this as indicative of the period is plainly misleading.

Here they are – the leaders of the world – absolutely powerless in the face of a failing system. They have no choice but to spend an unprecedented amount of tax payers’ money to prevent complete collapse of, and let’s call a spade a spade, capitalism. Imagine the hospitals, schools, sports centres, immunisation programmes and international aid this could provide.

I don't understand why we need these leaders. I don't understand why they have any credibility. I don't understand why we listen to them and I don't understand why the media and electorate don't make them properly accountable. Tony Blair now has a very, very lucrative career as an ex-world leader. He can choose whatever job he likes. He was recently on Jon Stewart's Daily Show, laughing and joking about his time in office and his relationship with George W. Bush. This will seem like a strong statement but whenever I see Tony Blair, I see a murderer. I hold him (and lots of others) personally responsible for the death of thousands of innocent people in Iraq.

Before you think, "Well, we vote for them," remember, not all of us do. In the last UK general election, our 'democracy' made it impossible to vote for a viable party that was against the war in Iraq. In the next election, it will be impossible to vote for a party that (for example) offers an alternative to the market economy.

As far as I understood, the Nazis were never particularly popular in Berlin. They didn't get a big share of the vote and anti-Nazi demonstrations took place during the Second World War. The majority of Berliners probably wanted peace. Instead they were drawn into the machinery of the Third Reich and torn to shreds. At the end of the war, they suffered the wrath of an avenging Red Army, the bitterness of a defeated Führer and they watched their city burn. Then, before their lives were rebuilt they were dragged into a new war, the Cold War. Alongside the unimaginable horrors of the Second World War, I also reserve some sadness for the ordinary people and the floating voters. There may've been many who voted for the Nazis, they may even have heard rumours about what was happening to the Jews, but who could imagine what their leaders were really getting them into?

There's a chant that's commonly heard in protests around the world, "Not in my name." I voted Labour in 1997 and 2001 - does that mean I supported Blair's decision to go to war? Absolutely not.

I think it was Harold Wilson who said of all his years in government, the best thing he did was to introduce Cat’s Eyes onto Britain’s roads. A simple safety measure – maybe. A dull domestic issue – maybe. Newsworthy – probably not.

To say we all have the same simple needs (peace, food and shelter) our politicians prefer to quibble and bicker. They play word games with each other and the press. They spar with each other and share a drink in the bar afterwards. They tell us that coming out to vote is how we can have our say in a democracy. Instead, we are helping to perpetuate a corrupt system.

Nelson Mandela showed that some leaders get it right. Mandela put aside his personal grievances and presided over a process of healing - truth and reconciliation. There may be many hard working politicians who want to make a positive difference – they may even be the majority – but far too often, they slip into advancing their own interests. They get used to seeing the world behind smoked-glass, bullet-proof, chaffeur-driven, publicly-funded vehicles and forget, as we all do, that we need politicians to act as our servants, not our leaders.

Hmmmm. Upon reading the above, I think I was right. It did turn into a rant.

Sorry.

Monday 22 September 2008

I love documentaries

I love documentaries. Like a million other people, I have a lot to thank them for. So let me just say again, I love documentaries.

Growing up, Thursday nights were always a treat. That's when my mother did the weekly shopping and we were allowed a can of fizzy drink with our tea (evening meal, for those unfamiliar with the colloquial). Cool. But even more importantly, it was a terrific night on the telly. Tomorrow's World followed by Top of the Pops. These science and music (respectively) programmes represented all three of the BBC's holy trinity. They informed, educated and entertained me. I loved them and watched religiously for around 10-15 years.

Having thought about it, and speaking generally, I have been informed, educated and entertained by TV and radio for as long as I can remember. I've also been appalled, infuriated and disgusted (the BBC's alter mission statement) but being blunt, the majority of what I know comes from television. More than school, parents, newspapers, books and probably university.

I'd prefer to have gained my understanding of the world through the orthodox study of art, music, literature and science - in fact, television may've prevented me from doing this - but the truth is, most of what I know comes from TV. I chip into conversations with sentences that begin, "Yeah, I saw this programme once, right, and that said..." I don't often say the same about books.

So, yes. Broadcasting has had an enormous impact on my brain. And in terms of being educated by it, this is primarily through documentaries.

I've just made a documentary. I'm very proud of it. It's called My DDR T-Shirt. Although it's not an exemplary piece of filmmaking, I did adhere to some basic documentary principles. Essentially, I wanted to be fair - fair to the interviewees, fair to the subject and now that I am selling a few copies of the DVD, I want to be fair to the audience. In a way, I was lucky. I had no financiers to keep happy and no TV slot fill. I could make my film according to my whim. I was accountable only to myself and the self-imposed principles of fairness.

In these multi-channel days, making documentaries has become more complicated - and they are suffering. Really suffering. They've lost confidence in themselves and the audience and resort to intelligence-insulting mechanisms to keep us tuned in.

Let me explain...

Keep flicking through your TV channels until you find a documentary. Let's say you find one about a construction team and they're building an enormous bridge. The construction process - the organisation, the co-ordination of skills and specialist hardware - could be interesting. However, this potentially 30 minute programme is more likely to be 50 minutes long and broken into 4 parts (at least) for commercial breaks. And in the countdown to a commercial break, there'll be all kinds of tantalising clips of what's to follow. And more often than not there'll be a cliff hanger.

I think cliff hangers originate from the weekly cinema dramas of the early days - the Saturday matinées, the westerns, the Flash Gordons etc. At the end of the episode, the hero is dangling from a cliff and the audience have to 'come back next week' to find out what happens. It's just mechanism of the entertainment industry and as old as cinema itself. There's a certain commercial need for cliff hangers. I'm not unrealistic and I don't mind them being used for dramas, Flash Gordon or Westerns. I just have a problem with use in documentaries.

Documentaries are supposed to be about education. I want to learn something. I don't want to see edited grimaces of the bridge construction manager as the narrator dramatises the risk of a twisted cable. "If this cable gives way, the 1000 ton bridge segment could fall and trigger a deadly chain reaction."

It's the fear of the flick. The programme makers tailor their half-interesting product to half-interested channel-hoppers. It's an admission that their programme isn't good enough to keep people tuned in. It's a dishonesty and, if not a lie, a gross exaggeration. And before we get sniffy about the output of obscure satellite and digital channels, these techniques have become standard for many.

Award-winning journalist and respected filmmaker Jon Ronson recently made Reverend Death, a documentary about an American reverend who assisted suicide. It was a good subject, the reverend was an interesting character, Ronson went to a lot of trouble to get to know him and it was screened on the UK's Channel 4. As each commercial break loomed, the last minute of the programme became a trailer for the sections to come. We saw edited clips that appear to show the plot thickening. By the time the previewed section arrives, you've already seen the footage several times - and what's more, you realise that the clip isn't quite as intriguing as you were invited to think. Channel 4's '9/11 Faker' is another example.

It's dishonest. It's trickery. It hides a lack substance and it degrades the programme.

As a regular documentary watcher, I only used to worry about what angle the narrator was coming from. Was the programme maker twisting the issue? Was he or she editing the footage to make a point? Were the interviewees credible? Is there a political agenda? All these things are still important, but now, they're secondary to whether the programme is what it claims to be. Is the filmmaker prodding my inquisitive nature to keep me tuned in? Does the filmmaker have anything to tell me or am I being exploited?

All this amounts to a crisis for me. Trusting a filmmaker has always required care but doubting the documentary as a medium, as a source of information, as a way to learn, is new. And it makes me very, very sad.

So look out next time you're watching telly. Do you end the programme with a sense of having learned something? Or do you have a sense, like I increasingly do, that you've been ever so slightly conned?

Sunday 6 July 2008

Cash rich, time poor

I first heard this phrase around twelve years ago. It was part of the editor’s introduction to an early edition (possible the first) of the women’s lifestyle magazine, Red. I resented it then and it still bugs me.

The phrase pops up here and there as part of the debate about ‘work/life balance’ – another interesting phrase. It describes the apparently increasing condition that money is more abundant than time. In other words, lots of people have reached a point in their lives where they have enough money to pay for what they want, but not the time to enjoy it.

The fact that we even have phrases like this amazes me. What’s more, they are dropped into conversation and editorial like an accepted and understood status report – without any scrutiny of what the phrase is actually reporting about our status.

It seems fashionable to seek balance, or at least use the word, in contemporary life. After a 20th century of extremes, the early 21st century prefers to occupy the middle ground. For instance, mainstream British and European political parties compete for the middle ground; speaking generally, confrontational behaviour between unions and employers is not dead, but the flavour has changed.

Balance in itself is difficult to argue against:

“We need a balanced approach.”
“No we don’t. We need an imbalanced one.”

The problem with talking about balance is that it takes the focus away from sometimes unreasonable extremes on either side of the fulcrum. Seeking balance assumes that there is a solution between opposing forces. But what happens if these opposing forces are incompatible? What happens if one force is disproportionately dominant?

If a child plays on a see-saw with another child, the balance is easy. If a child plays on a see-saw with an elephant, balance could only be achieved by moving the fulcrum, the centre ground, closer to the elephant and further from the child. The centre ground isn’t so central anymore and balance isn’t always very well balanced.

We often use these balance metaphors but in doing so we distract ourselves from the issues involved. The term ‘work/life balance’ assumes that such a thing is possible – that work and life can be balanced in a satisfactory way. It also acknowledges that these two things are opposites. If we use the see-saw analogy, work and life for most will always be in competition with each other. Wouldn’t it be better to seek a solution to this rather than find the balance?

At this point, I’d like to acknowledge that binary opposites (left/right, good/bad) aren’t always helpful. The human condition isn’t always so black and white but it is significant that we’ve created a binary opposite with ‘work/life’.

The phrase I began with, “cash rich, time poor” is effectively a description of a work/life imbalance. It is used like a common complaint, like an occupational hazard. And if the work/life balance was so achievable, as that phrase suggests, if work and life weren’t such opposing forces, why do so many people feel cash rich, time poor?

What a comment this is about the system we live by. In the West, starvation isn’t the biggest threat, its obesity. For jobs, employment and destitution aren’t the concern, it’s having the time to spend your earnings. And, presumably, many of these cash rich, time poor people have followed the system’s rules to achieve this status. Generally, (and there will be all kinds of exceptions) they have worked at school, gone to university, applied for jobs and applied for promotions etc etc. They have essentially conformed, and how does our system reward them? With time poverty - and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, more valuable than our time.

Maybe the balancing act isn’t so easy. Maybe it isn’t within the power of any ordinary individual to make the necessary changes? If a child is trying to play on a see-saw and the elephant at the other end won’t budge, maybe we shouldn’t be talking about balance?

Friday 16 May 2008

There'll always be an England

I'm from a totally non-religious family but once a week my sister takes my two year-old niece to a local Methodist church toddler group. The fact it's in a church is a coincidence. A few weeks ago, she phoned to tell me about a 1940s evening being held at the church hall and suggested that my 86 year old grand mother may like to attend. It sounded like a good idea and my Nana liked the sound of it too. So, I picked her up, drove to the hall outside Huddersfield and took my seat for and evening of war time songs.

It was a stiff and amateur performance but listening to these old songs was a strangely poignant experience. At the end, we were treated to a hot supper of meat pies and mushy peas. On the way home, Nana said wistfully, "There Always Be an England...well, where's it gone?"

Given that Nana spends almost all her time inside her home, financially comfortable and visited four times a day by NHS carers, I wondered what knowledge she had of contemporary England. It was also hard to know why she sounded so disappointed.

The sentiment reminded me of a comment made to me by an ex-girlfriend's grand father. He was a Commando during the war and, when asked, he would describe some of his horrific experiences. He was involved in some notoriously bloody action in Burma (I apologise for not being able to remember the names of these battles). He once recalled a moment when he found himself spattered by blood, bone and brain after his friend was shot in the head. And then he added, "When I look at what we've become and what's happened to the country, I don't think it was worth it."

I found it particularly hard to hear such disillusionment after his endeavour and hardship.

I wasn't around during the 1940s so I don't know what it was like. By all accounts, it was a pretty tough time. So where does this feeling of betrayal and disappointment come from? I think there's more than one factor and I'm going to hazard a few guesses - in no particular order.

My first guess is immigration. Actually, it's not much of a guess. It's what I've heard the people above talking about.

There's a line in the song There'll Always be an England:

"Britons awake! The Empire too, we can depend on you."

Despite this stirring faith that subjects of the British Empire would support us when necessary (as thousands of 'Commonwealth' soldiers did), I doubt this relationship was intended to be mutual. For example, I know that my Nana's heart sinks when she sees Asian people in her local shop. Despite the fact that people choose to come to England for its stability and opportunity (things the soldiers fought for), Nana sees Asians as dirty, untrustworthy and lesser-beings. As horrible as this is, immigration and racism contribute to Nana's sense that England, as she knew it, has gone.

My second guess, and slightly less tangible than my first, is propaganda.

At the prospect of being overrun by Nazis, I suspect that it suited the British ruling classes to ask the nation to pull together and fight. But did our soldiers really fight to preserve an archaic system where 90% of the country was in the hands of around 2% of the population (not exact figures but I know I'm not far off)?

Propaganda created and/or perpetuated the myths of England - fair play, rolling countryside and village cricket etc. The fact that (for many) the future didn't live up to these myths is not surprising. I think the soldiers, the sailors, the land girls, the female munitions workers, the Indians, the Africans, the New Zealanders, the Aussies and everyone else were sold a lie.

But let me stress at this point: I think the Nazis were worth fighting. If the Nazis weren't defeated, God knows what Europe (and the world) would look like today. It's just that deeds of individual and collective bravery and sacrifice wouldn't happen if people didn't believe in what they were fighting for. These are the things that won the war but these are also the things that lost hearts and minds in the long run.

I would've thought that the end of the war brought about mind-boggling hopes for a bright and peaceful future - indeed, I'm sure this helped our soldiers struggle on. And when they came home, they were promised a home fit for heroes - a New Jerusalem. The fact that this vision was never realised is more to do with the lies that were peddled and the imbalance of the real England that the soldiers were actually defending.

Tuesday 1 April 2008

Plasma/LCD picture quality revisited

I always include disclaimers in my blogs. I try to be clear that I'm expressing my opinion - and it isn't always on solid ground.

I recently wrote a blog called "Why is plasma/LCD screen picture quality so bad?" It outlined the disappointment I felt at the poor quality of the latest TV technology. Basically, everytime I looked at new tellies, I saw a low quality picture with lots of pixelation and distortion.

To my delight, I received an anonymous comment from someone who'd bought a new TV and agreed with what I'd said. But even so, no-one else was writing anything similar. I started reading reviews of LCD/plasma screens. Programmes like Channel Five's The Gadget Show and organisations like Which? go to great lengths to test things and their reviews of TVs didn't say anything about pixelation or distortion being a problem across the board.

After reading more reviews with descriptions like 'crystal clear' and 'pin sharp', my girlfriend and I decided to take the plunge. We bought a Panasonic 32" LCD TV. By coincidence, it arrived on my birthday. The superior, distant tone of my original TV blog was not evident that day. I love getting stuff - it's true.

All things considered, the TV's pretty good - I'm pleased with it. Image quality from certain sources (like a standard DVD player) is generally good. Image quality from certain digital television channels isn't. Football for instance, one of the examples given in my original blog, proves to be a particular struggle. American talk shows, on-screen graphics and fast-moving music videos or kid's TV (all high brow examples, huh?) are other pixelation-prone areas.

If I make a mistake, I'd like to be the first to say it, but on this occasion a certain Mr. Adamson beat me to it. (Thank you). He politely asked whether there was any hypocrisy in declaring "I'm gonna wait a while before I pay the several hundred pounds required for an ultra-stylish backward steps" a matter of months before buying one. I squirmed a little, conceded the charge and squirmed a little more.

Obviously, I was already aware of my inconsistency, but there are some things I'd like to explain. My girlfriend and I read lots of reviews and we
saw better quality picture quality in some none high-street electrical retailers. If you go into Currys, Dixons or Comet, picture quality of display models is terrible. No doubt. Secondly, I wonder whether the pixelation problem is due to digital TV rather than the screens themselves. Certain types of movement and colour combinations play havoc with the image quality. This was evident on my old CRT TV and a bigger screen may just make it easier to see. If this is the case, if digital TV is the problem, I was wrong about plasma and LCD picture quality and I apologise.

However, I still believe we're not getting the quality we're being promised. Of the years that plasma and LCD screens have been on sale we've had (roughly) three stages - the first lot displayed images at 720p, the second were HD Ready at 1080i and now we have Full HD Ready at 1080p. Mine is the middle one, 1080i. It's good but there are still problem areas - they might be solved at 1080p but they must be terrible at 720p. If the problems lie with digital TV broadcast, this is being glossed over in the drive to switch to digital only broadcasts by 2012. If the problems lie with poor quality connections and SCART leads then I'll have even more egg on my face.

So, as the final word, I apologise for my inconsistency. Sorry.

Wednesday 12 March 2008

Concrete and communism

I was on holiday in Bulgaria last week. As I walked back to the hotel from the resort centre, something caught my eye. Another hotel had a long, sweeping concrete walkway leading from ground level to an upper floor. This futuristic looking construction was supported by elegant and narrow concrete pillars. There was definitely something stylish about it but there was also something distinctly derelict. I don't think anyone had walked along it for many years (it may even have been blocked off at one end) and I could see large patches of crumbling concrete on the underside - cracked and fractured by the rusting and expanding reinforced steel structure within.

What a shame. The walkway would've looked cool once - part of an architect's vision of the future. And that's what got me thinking...

Crumbling and neglected concrete is absolutely a feature of the former Eastern Bloc countries I have visited. It seems like concrete suited the communist planners. Concrete was used for everything - apartment blocks, public buildings, public art, train stations, lamp posts, telegraph polls, bus shelters, road signs, park benches, litter bins...the Berlin Wall - the list could go on. It's like there was a belief in concrete as the building material of the future. It was used extensively in the West too - often part of Britain's post-war New Jerusalem. There was nothing concrete couldn't achieve - a universal material that levelled the old inequalities, applied to all and took society into a newer, fairer future.

These are exactly the qualities (or myths) that appeal to communists. And maybe the concrete and communism parallel goes further? Over time they both fade and stain. The early ideals become compromised by clumsy, ugly and lazy application. The inner structure or principles corrode and weaken and the whole thing becomes unsound and liable to collapse.

Maybe I don't know very much about politics or architecture? Probably not, but until I find out otherwise (or maybe you can tell me?), I'll keep thinking about the parallel between these two things. But at least I've explained to myself why I'm drawn to Eastern Europe's crumbling concrete structures? And maybe that's why I feel so sad whenever I see these futuristic designs looking so decrepit and broken?

And you know what? As I walk amongst modern Manchester's redevelopment and new architecture, I can see that concrete is still being used. It's almost made a comeback. If done properly, there's a future for concrete. If only someone could work out how to 'do' communism properly, maybe there's a future for that too?

Friday 22 February 2008

Dumb and Hummers

I'm sure my blogs contain all kinds of sweeping generalisations but most of these will be out of ignorance. I try my best, but some always slip through. I don't know why, but this time, I've decided to indulge myself with a generalisation-based blog.

Hummers, and drivers of Hummers, are some of the least appealing things/people in the world.

Lots of people have discussed the phenomenon of mothers taking their kids to school in a Land Rover Discovery - but I don't want to duplicate this. It's Hummers, in particular, that got me thinking.

In certain theatres of war, there may be a reason for Hummers. On certain UN missions, there may be a use for them. In certain parts of the United States, they may be the perfect all terrain vehicle. But Jeeeeeesus, do we need them in Manchester?

Although this isn't one of the Freedom Series of blogs, the Hummer thing is partly about freedom of choice. Freedom of choice is important. I believe that. But when a system like ours provides so much choice, I mean a bewildering array of options for almost every item in our lives, these choices morph into modes of self-expression.

There's something about Hummers that epitomise US foreign policy. Hummers go anywhere in the world, they're big, they're ugly, they are energy inefficient, they leave a massive footprint and drive over anything. So where does this fit into the UK car buyer's mentality?

Most things are chosen because the buyer identifies with 'characteristics' of the thing. Good natured people own good natured dogs. Flashy people buy flashy phones. Idiots like Jeremy Clarkson drive idiotic cars.

So what drives a person in the UK to choose a Hummer? What Hummer characteristic does the owner identify with? It's size? It's weight? It's horrible, clunky, boxy design? What does a Hummer owner feel when s/he climbs up to the steering wheel?

I don't understand it.

Sunday 17 February 2008

Freedom #2

Before I start, let me set out what I'm trying to do. I've spent a lot of time trying to learn about life in the DDR. This blog isn't meant to sound like some kind of polemic, it's a thought process. So, if I'm talking rubbish, please feel free to tell me. Constructively, please.

The first interview for My DDR T-Shirt was with a researcher at the Stasi Museum, Normannenstrasse, Berlin. Steffen's English was superb. He was friendly and knowledgeable. He told me lots about the workings of the Stasi and of the former East German government. As the 'schwert und schield' (sword and shield) of the East German Communist Party, the Stasi wanted to know 'everything about everybody.'


Part of the Stasi's job was to monitor the East German population - and use the population to monitor itself. The Stasi had operatives and agents throughout East German society. There are several books on this subject, all of which are more knowledgeable than me, but Steffen told me about one example that made me think.

Sometimes, in some East German schools, some school children were asked to draw the clock from the evening TV news. I can't remember the exact details but it went something like this - the news on both East and West German TV featured a clock in the background. The East German clock had numerals around the clock face. The West German version had twelve dots around the face. It seems innocuous to ask kids to draw the clock from TV, until you realise that this exercise was used to find out which families were watching forbidden TV from the West. And these families were reported to the Stasi.

Using children to monitor the behaviour of their parents is a pretty dirty trick. It's a measure of what the DDR was like. I mean, children, honestly.


Go into any high street into any town or city in the UK. Or even any town or city in the western world. The chances are you will see a McDonald's. In most McDonald's, there's a kid's area and most McDonald's offer the space for free for birthday parties and the like. They provide free balloons and games and most of the kids will leave the party sporting some kind of hat that features that infamous logo, the McDonald golden arches.

If any readers of this blog have children (I know I have readers, or at least one - he left a comment once), you don't need me to tell you about the pressure kids are under to wear certain fashionable items. Most parents feel under intense pressure too, from the kids themselves, to buy certain brands. For example, sending your kids to school in Asda own-brand trainers or Wal Mart brand sneakers is an invitation for other children to ridicule your child. And given that no parent wants to do this, they do their best, even those on very low incomes, to buy the big brands. It's known in marketing as the 'nag factor' and companies and corporations spend millions each year to achieve it.

What's the difference? Well, one is state sponsored and one isn't. But if you change the word 'state' to 'system', you have sentence that applies both ways - using children to make parents behave in certain ways is/was system sponsored in the old East and in the West.

Another difference? Well, the Stasi used to lock people up, the nag factor doesn't. True and I accept this key difference. But on the other hand, the Stasi didn't lock up everyone who watched West German TV and at least in East Germany, parents took their own punishment, not the kids. A system that puts the child in line for the punishment (the bullying, the ridicule at school etc) is pretty harsh too.

Okay, so I'm using a clumsy mechanism but maybe you get the point. The DDR used children to make people behave in certain ways - and so do we.

Tuesday 12 February 2008

Freedom #1

"That's not freedom. That's oppression!"

My sister's words - used to describe the shopping frenzy in some Yorkshire's towns and cities in the run up to Christmas. She was making the point that people put themselves through hell to complete their Christmas shopping on time - they feel compelled to do it. And if people feel compelled to do something (and most of us feel this at Christmas, despite our better judgement), is it indicative of an oppressive system or a free state?

I agree with my sister. Why would we choose to buy something for £20 on Christmas Eve that would be available for £10 on Boxing Day? And of greater value than money, why would people spend so much time traipsing around the shops? Do we do it for the love of our friends and family, or for another reason? We all know that Christmas is over-commercialised and an anti-climax. Yet we repeat the cycle each year - and I don't think that's freedom, it's much more like oppression.

For about three years, I've been working on a documentary about East Germany - the DDR (Deutsche Demokratik Republik). The DDR was an oppressive state that ceased to exist after German re-unification in 1990. I spoke to lots of people who lived in the DDR and asked them what life was like. I've also read and researched as much as I can about this subject. There were lots of restrictions for DDR citizens, the most famous being restrictions on travel - the Berlin Wall and Checkpoint Charlie etc. But as I learned more about life in the DDR, I found myself asking awkward questions of life under our current system. And these questions form the basis of the Freedom Series.

Let's hope I get round to writing enough of them to constitute a series...