CofE bishops - doing the right thing (at last)

Watching the Church of England do the right thing can sometimes feel like watching a dogged oil tanker reverse into a tight parking space at night, with no wing mirrors and an upside down map. It'll get there eventually but its not clear how and it can take so many different attempts arrival seems unlikely.

This week a platoon of bishops signed a letter to the Observor calling on the government to pass a series of ammendments to its proposal to cap benefit payments to families. About time, of course, and the church has not been silent on the government's work so far, but this still marks a significant departure. This is partly because it includes a series of additions to improve the proposal, highly specific and drafted with the help of a major charity. They all look eminnently sensible. It is also partly because 18 bishops signed the letter, a rare and impressive show of unity, although one which does you wondering why on earth the others didn't.

And what a joy it is to see the right wing papers have to cope with a sensible, thoughtful and intellectual reproach from the heart of establishment England against an extremist government. In the wake of the St Paul's protests (ongoing) which saw an out pouring of bile from the Sun, etc, it is nothing short of delightful to find that the church is not fearful of doing the right thing in the face of bigotted unpopularity.

Should we forget?

My Spanish friend told me of his mother's reaction when she heard about Britain's two minute silence to observe the war dead on 11 November. "That," she said, "is a civilised country." There is something much more humbling about a silence than there is about a cheer, or a trumpet blast, or a "hell yeah".

A few days earlier a German friend had told me how much he liked the red 'poppies' the British wear to mark Remembrance Sunday; the ambiguity of the symbol, he argued, gave a suitably de-politicised badge which the whole country, regardless of political affiliation, could rally around. More attractive too, he argued, than any equivalent in Europe.

Buying a poppy can almost be done on auto-pilot for most of us at this time of year but it also brings on soul searching - many in 1919 thought we should forget, not remember. The line between commemoration and valorisation is surprisingly thin. At my church the two minute silence began with the playing of the Last Post, the beautiful, haunting military bugle call. 'For the Fallen', the poem read to commemorate the day, is only steps from noting 'dulce et decorum est pro patria mori'. But to refuse these rituals on the grounds that they glamorise would be to throw the baby out with the bath water. Far more dangerous that we forget the horrors of war than that in remembering we also do so with some pride in the sacrifice. Sometimes we inherit traditions; sometimes we choose them.

The British obsession with drinking

The British are unusually childish when it comes to alcohol. From binge drinking in city streets after hours all the way to the precious giggle which accompanies the offer of a glass of wine at a genteel drinks party; it all betokens a weirdly teenage obsession with booze. I met a vicar who boasted that she never offered her guests tea or coffee, but wine, evidence of her urbane taste apparently but also the last thing I would want at a vicarage. I've been to lunch parties where the an offer of wine was greeted by: 'Oh I shouldn't, but I will'; or 'You know me, I wish I could, but I can't', and a comradely chuckle at such an illicit desire. To request a soft drink shows you are no fun or, worse, a flat out refusal of hospitality. Alcohol is special, desirable and naughty - for 14 year olds and for 60 year olds.

The teetotallers are in on this too. The deliberately intoned 'No thank you, I don't drink', is just as desperate for attention as asking for a second glass. What is it about booze that is so terrifying for those who reject it (on anything other than health grounds) and so tantalising for those who are convinced of its naughtiness? Given that almost no social situation is without the offer of alcohol, and drinking it has become almost a social requirement at many events, why doesn't it elicit the same reaction as water or Coca Cola? It is time for the British to snap out of this adolescent attitude to alcohol which is as embarrassing as the antiquated attitude to sex espoused in the Carry On films. Drink it if you like; don't if you don't. Either way don't make an exhibition of your sense of fun or your purity.

The Bible warns against drunkenness repeatedly (Ephesians 5:18; Proverbs 23:29-35) but rarely against drinking alcohol at all, presumably because water was far more dangerous for your health. Indeed wine became the centre piece of the Mass, as a representative for Christ's blood. This doesn't stop many Christian denominations from departing from Christ's own example in preferring Ribena to red wine in the Eucharist. The fear is presumably that one drink will lead to another, just as some Christian student groups disapprove of full frontal hugging on the grounds that it might lead to sex. This seems like a very odd notion for everyone apart from alcoholics and the most sexually depraved, who form only a small minority of society and so also most Christian groups. Who can't trust themselves with a hug or a single glass of wine? It seems possible, even, that it is the teetotallers and those who refuse any bodily contact who might be at most risk of falling of the other end of the wagon. The prayer is 'Lead us not into temptation' and not 'Do not tempt us'; without temptation how can we learn to resist? The most responsible attitude is to drink when appropriate, and to drink as much as is responsible, but not to deny it entirely on grounds of purity.

Purchasing Misery for Children

Quelle surprise - children with huge amounts of stuff but who enjoy little real communication with their parents are unhappy, and British children suffer the worse, ranking bottom of the UN's table of well being. Parents spend the least amount of their time their children in this country, are more stressed personally, rarely communicate about things that matter (rather than giving commands) and are more inclined to spend time with their children in purchasing things for their bedrooms. It is depressing and predictable.

The parents are, in a sense to blame, but to take the chain of responsibility back only so far is to do parents a disservice and to ignore the effects of our social environment. In a free market economy the only standard of success and self worth is possession and so, inevitably, parents find that their only role is to be the procurer of products for their children. Just as children are told in adverts that goods will make them happy so parents are instructed that, if good parenting is making their offspring happy, so their job must be to pay for stuff. Meanwhile the pressure to produce ever bigger profits by working ever longer hours and reducing themselves to automotrons in the service of businesses means that the ability of parents to do anything other than work and shop is reduced anyway.

Of course the equation doesn't work - you can't buy your way to a happier future nor can you purchase it for your children. This is nothing new but what is remarkable is how we have failed to act on it. In this way is capitalism so impressively tenacious. Even with the knowledge that economic success is often a poisoned chalice it is still impossible to avoid it - partly because of the structure of work and the demands of earning money, but much more importantly because capitalism instills its values in those who participate in it, which is almost all of us. You might know, intellectually, that your child would rather you spent more time together, but the desire to consume, and need to finance this consumption, is so overwhelming that even free time becomes subsumed into the need to earn more and work harder.

Church vs. Mosque

As a medieval historian I am sensitive, perhaps overly so, about the accusation that my subject doesn't matter - a point raised usually in the context that unless you're saving a life (read: training as a doctor) what you're doing doesn't really count.

This was, to some extent, disproved during my trip to the cathedral church of Cordoba, a vast renaissance edifice built in the centre of one of the most spectacular medieval mosques in Europe. This is widely recognised by historians and visitors as an appalling act of architectural vandalism and a miserable piece of symbolism, emphasising cultrual chauvanism and religious intolerance. Even Carlos V, the king who authorised the construction of the church and who was responsible for a huge amount of muscular church building in what was formerly Al Andalus, damned the creation after he saw its completion. Indeed for three centuries after Cordoba was taken by the Christians the mosque was maintained more or less intact.

The modern cathedal chapter, to judge from its visitor guide, which is given for free to every visitor to the church, does not share this opinion. Indeed the mosque, one of the most extraordinary pieces of architecture in the world and a rare survivor from the ninth century, merits only a cursory summary in the guide - two sides - while the cathedral, an impressive building for its domination and power but otherwise rather familiar from every other church in Andalucia, receives a wealth of attention - and three sides.

The leaflet goes further, however, in emphasising the destruction of the Muslims and the restoration of the Christians. Some of the quotes are quite extraordinary in their revision of history.

It is an historical fact that [the Visigothic church] was destroyed during the Islamic period in order to build the subsequent Mosque... the dominating Muslims proceeded to the demolition of the martyr's church

In fact after the Islamic conquest, the church was divided between Muslims and Christians. The Moors were reknown for a high degree of religious tolerance: Abd ar-Rahman I, the builder of the first mosque, allowed the Christians to rebuild their ruined churches. Evenually he purchased the Christian half of the church and rebuilt it as a mosque, which seems almost civilised compared to the wholesale destruction and rebuilding of mosques as churches across Andalucia after the reconquista.

[The consecration of the mosque as a church] was a matter of recuperating a sacred space that had suffered the imposition of a faith that was foreign and distant from the Christian experience... the reforms of the church were motivated by the need to restore the cult that had been interrupted by Islamic domination

This could hardly have been the case after almost five centuries of Muslim rule. It would be as reasonable to argue that Christianity was a foriegn experience for the pagans who had worshipped in Spain for millenia before Christ.

Indeed the building of the church could hardly be

a response to the desire of contemplating Christian symbols, or the inconvenience of celebrating the Liturgy amid a sea of columns

It is transparently an act of religious domination, a word often used in the guide to describe the Muslims but never the Christians, who merely 'restore' the true religion of Spain.

There is hardly any mention of the controversy of the new building, which is described as

an ingenious integration of the caliph structures within the gothic, renaissance, and baroque creations.

This guide probably reveals more of the insecurity and defensiveness of a church on the decline than the muscular military Christianity of the Reconquista but it is a sad example of the tensions that still exist between religions and the contortion of history to fit political aims. It also demonstrates an inability to understand the lessons of history for the confidence to engage with those of other beliefs.

Evil, bankers and anthropology

An anthropologist friend of mine almost took up a job with a giant consultancy firm in Germany a few weeks ago, saved only by his own lefty instincts. No doubt it was a close shave. But an anthropological study, although of a rather unacademic variety, into bankers was begun this week by Joris Luyendijk.

His findings so far are interesting rather than revelatory but he does warn us of the importance of distinguishing between different groups within the banking sector. It is this humanising of people usually referred to only in groups which presents a real challenge to those of us who read the news and form opinions about society. How easy it is to generalise and condemn, or to see nothing but triumph and success in the faces of our enemies. The reality is, of course, more complicated. There are different types of bankers, different jobs in the banking sector, and as many different types of people as there are people.

Often the activities that we wish to condemn - short term profiteering, incompetant investment, encouraging debt onto those who can't afford it - are committed by institutions or enforced by an office culture that runs roughshod over employees more human instincts. The individual is lost in this equation or is party to the offence rather than the author of it. Should we judge and, if so, whom should we judge? It is very, very easy to see the speck in a banker's eye before we remove the log in our own. Similarly it is easier to condemn en masse than to pick apart the moral failures of a large institution and find its source. Who can doubt that some of the most descpicable and stupid actions, with the most widely and profoundly pernicious consequences, of any in recent decades have been committed by the arrogance, idiocy and blindness of banking institutions and some of their workers? The question is how do we, as individuals, respond to this?

Hell is a High Rise Office Block

As my train drew into London last night it was dawdling on the empty track outside Paddington. Outside my window office blocks towered to every side, every floor lit and empty. The scene was almost gruesome - layer after layer of identical strip lit, double glazed, climate controlled expanses; row after row of small desks and big chairs stretched out one after the other. How extraordinary that this ethos has come to govern office architecture for so long. Although it was inevitable that at some point the drive to increase profit would lead to the principle of 'pile 'em high; sell 'em cheap' being applied to work spaces, that it would endure for so long is almost incomprehensible. It is not only amazing that talented workers would continue to apply for jobs in these kind of battery-farm conditions but that companies would disregard the obvious benefits of providing their employees with more stimulating surroundings. Illness, inefficiency and poor attention spans are only some of the miserable effects of these conditions, and yet they are subject to remarkable little public criticism let alone political attention. Even the bankers and lawyers of Canary Wharf appear to be more willing to put up with this architectural monotony than to insist on improvements at a fraction of a cost of their annual bonus.

I spent some time working for a large company in a large, bland, open plan office, I can remember how miserable it was having no variation in temperature, light quality or view and how difficult it was to focus in an open plan space. Perhaps it is the destruction of the unions that has led to this inability to claim a working environment that will actual help employees work? Perhaps our sensibility is too accustomed to experiencing illness, headaches and misery at work to expect anything different? Or possibly we just don't think architects can do better? The architects offer only a spineless kowtowing to the profiteering requirements of developers. No matter how spectacular the exterior might appear, no matter how grand the architect's name, neither developer nor designer appears to have given any thought to the experience (or efficiency) of the office block's users. The 'Gherkin' in London is a case in point - unusual looking, very recently built, and design by the much lauded and once-great designer of tedious, identikit office blocks Norman Foster, but hell to work in.