Monday, April 9, 2018

Dirty Uncle Bertie

Blaise Pascal saw our need for entertainment and distraction as arising from the very essence of the human condition and dark fears regarding our place in an apparently hostile and infinite universe. He himself was terrified by the silence between the stars.
One does not have to follow Pascal all the way, however, to see something a bit odd about comedy as an institution. Wit and humor help to make life more tolerable, but the institutionalization and professionalization of comedic entertainment can be seen as a depressing reminder of our need for such diversion and — by extension — of our ultimately dire situation.
What’s more, the funniest things – for me at least – happen and are said, wittingly and unwittingly, in the course of ordinary life. There is nothing to compare with a witty, off-the-cuff comment, created on the fly; or even spoonerisms or malapropisms. Such remarks may not bear scrutiny but humor or funniness should not (in my opinion) be required to bear scrutiny. Consequently I feel sorry for professional comics. They are scrutinized. They are under constant pressure. No wonder their lives are often short, and their biographies painfully depressing.
In the midst of a recent bout of Pascalian gloom, I started looking at some old comedy videos, amongst them Peter Cook and Dudley Moore’s dialogues. These old tapes are very uneven, but they have their moments. And they are certainly interesting as historical documents. They got me thinking about the way comedy is so often focused on sex and how it reflects the social attitudes of the time. One sketch in particular resonated. It dealt with the excruciating awkwardness which often accompanied ‘facts of life’ sessions between parents and their children, but it also brought some darker aspects of my family history to mind.
It goes without saying that the humor of a particular period or culture reveals much about that culture or period: it derives from – and exploits – a particular set of social assumptions, beliefs and attitudes.  During their undergraduate years, both Cook and Moore were involved in extracurricular theatrical activities, Cook with the Footlights club in Cambridge and Moore with the Oxford Revue. This was in the late 1950’s, so the world that formed them is very distant from our own.
In conjunction with Alan Bennett and Jonathan Miller, they subsequently developed a satirical stage show, Beyond the Fringe. In this and other work, they were consciously pushing the boundaries and, though not political in a partisan sense, they were definitely anti-establishment. Their humor – much of which was social satire – drew heavily on the peculiarities of the English class system of the time and to a large extent was a reaction against it.
Peter Cook and Dudley Moore developed sketches for television in the mid-1960’s. Their Pete and Dud sketches (the so-called ‘Dagenham dialogues’) poke fun at working class and lower-middle-class tastes and habits, like hanging prints of famous paintings in bathrooms. The Laughing Cavalier was bad enough, but Pete’s Auntie Muriel had something worse: the Mona Lisa, “with that awful sniffy look about her, so superior, peering down at you, she looks as if she’d never been to the lav in her life.” (1)
The sketch in question is set in an art gallery. There are speculations about certain strange elements of the Renaissance world such as floating gauze and cherubs and also about changing styles of humor. There is a reference to the Burlington House Cartoon by Leonardo da Vinci (a cartoon in this context being a full-size study for a painting). Pete “couldn’t see the bloody joke.” (2)
Though they were seen at the time as doing something entirely new, Peter Cook and Dudley Moore were clearly the inheritors of a long tradition of class- and repression-based British humor. The material about the paintings in bathrooms and the ‘cartoon’ joke both involve making fun of lower-class habits or ignorance and so are hardly cutting edge, but in general the thrust of their humor was anarchic and their targets diverse. This general style of satire became very influential and played a role in undermining the class system and the Puritanism that often went with it. (3) It was nonetheless dependent on that system.
And perhaps this was why Cook – the more intellectually creative of the two – found that he had nowhere to go and gradually just petered out. The social system which formed him and which he mercilessly satirized had slowly disappeared, and – professionally, at least – he lost direction. Moreover, the early dialogues – which by all accounts had seemed daring at the time – exhibit a kind of prurience which now seems very dated (like some of the talk about the wisps of gauze which had a strange propensity for landing on naked women’s private parts).
Another example of Cook and Moore’s work is the father and son sketch in which Cook plays an unworldly upper-class father attempting to explain the facts of life to his 17-year-old son. (4) Mixed in with the innocence and obfuscation are references to rumors about “dirty Uncle Bertie” (who is the boy’s mother’s lover and presumably also his biological father). Despite the silliness, this aspect of the sketch highlights something real: strict notions of respectability and the strenuous avoidance of talk about sexual matters in polite company inevitably led to weird cover-ups and secrecy, even within families. 
The most common such cover-ups are related to children born out of wedlock, of course, and there are heart-rending cases on both sides of my family.  One relates to my paternal grandmother and her mother. My aunt regretted blocking attempts by her grandmother Cordelia to reach out to her when she was a child. Cordelia belonged to a different religious denomination, and my aunt considered her “stuck up.” Only much later did she find out about the real circumstances of her mother’s birth and her grandmother’s traumatic youth.

Cordelia Lester, working as a domestic servant, became pregnant and made her way to a charity hospital. She was quite ill and stayed at the hospital for some months after the birth of her daughter Caroline (my grandmother). The hospital records give the name of the father of her child. He was employed as a groom at the house at which she had been working. But, even within our family, all of this was covered up and Caroline was thought to be the daughter of the man Cordelia subsequently married.

The curious thing is, the boy’s family secretly watched over Cordelia and her daughter Caroline. Even long after Cordelia’s death – and in a city thousands of miles from where the story began – there were still secret contacts and communications (possibly involving financial help) between his family and Caroline. My aunt remembers odd meetings and letters, but they were never explained or discussed. And, at Caroline’s funeral, my aunt was approached by – and unfortunately rebuffed – a stranger claiming to be related to her and her mother.

But that father and son sketch – specifically the references to dirty Uncle Bertie – brought some stranger aspects of my family history to mind. They relate to my mother’s first cousin, Carl. Since the individuals involved are long dead, there seems to be no reason not to tell the story.
My mother told me about her father’s death. He was a saintly man who died quite young of Banti’s syndrome. He was ill for many months and was nursed and died at home. My mother – who was his favorite child and spent a lot of time with him during this period – was about ten years old. It’s a long and terrible story which I won’t tell here, except for one detail.

Apparently my grandmother (who was not particularly close to her husband) was very distraught during the time leading up to her husband’s death. There was something she felt she had to say to him but she kept putting it off, and he died. Normally cool and unemotional, she became extremely distressed, but apparently from guilt rather than from grief.

This episode may or may not be connected with a long-term sexual relationship my maternal grandmother had with her nephew Carl which was covered up for many years. I only found out about it during my last visit (not long before her death) to my mother’s older sister who blithely informed me that my grandmother and Carl had been, as she put it, “an item”. Even my mother didn’t know about it.

I had always thought that Carl was a bit strange. He was living at my grandmother’s house when we came to stay for a couple of months when I was seven years old. Carl played the violin and used to drive us around in his car. I still remember its slightly musty smell and its cavernous, dark interior. We (certainly we children) were all completely unaware of any romantic or sexual relationship between Carl and his aunt Lily. But I sensed a kind of weirdness and unpleasantness about the man, and apparently I asked my mother at the time, quite seriously, if Carl was from another planet.
Nobody would want to return to the classed-based, respectability-obsessed world which Peter Cook and Dudley Moore and others with whom they were associated were reacting against. It was a world of secrecy, hypocrisy and bigotry.
And though the hopes of those who thought that the demise of the old order would usher in a brave, new, enlightened and harmonious world have not been fulfilled, at least the secrecy is gone.
  2. section of the dialogue includes a bit of ad libbing as Cook tries to get Moore to laugh uncontrollably.
  3. The satirical magazinePrivate Eye, which Peter Cook helped to fund, was particularly influential.
  4. father didn’t even get as far as the Peter Cook character did in the sketch; he chickened out entirely. My mother took on the task.

Monday, January 29, 2018

Moral reputations and politics

[This is an extract from my latest post at The Electric Agora.]

Ethics or morality is not private in the sense that it is social and mainly about how we treat one another as human beings; but, in another sense, it is private. It is private in the sense that it is not just about the way we act and treat others; it is also about the way we see others and ourselves. (‘Opaque’ might be a better word than ‘private’ here.)

Moreover, I would suggest that, on the whole, the reputational side of things is taken too seriously. Simply put, reputations – which are by definition public and subject to rhetorical interventions, both positive and negative – typically bear little relationship to the (private, or opaque as I am calling it) reality of the person in question. And I believe that reputation as it pertains to the moral qualities of a person is something that we can – and should – remain agnostic about, under normal circumstances at least.

If there is a thing which we cannot know, the proper response is agnosticism; and we cannot know another person’s self-perception. We can see a small part of what they do. We can hear a small part of what they say. But – with a few possible exceptions (life-long friends, spouses, certain confessional writers perhaps) – we cannot know the details or nuances of the value systems of other people, nor how they see their own actions as relating to these value systems.

Of course, we can judge the actions and statements of others against our own value systems and/or against a legal framework. In fact, we need to do this. Anarchism is not a realistic option. But we need to be clear about what it is we are doing here, what it is we are judging. And what it is that we are not doing, not judging.

Even in its more mundane applications (relating to accomplishment, expertise or practical reliability, say) we often get things wrong when it comes to a person’s reputed qualities. The implication of the common idiom, “So-and-so has a well-deserved reputation for …”, is that reputations are often (usually?) not well-deserved.

Given the above points, it seems to me that there has been far too much emphasis on moral reputation in recent times, both on the positive side (in respect of certain historical figures, but also some contemporary figures) and – especially – on the negative side. Given the infinite possibilities for spin and communicational distraction and deception, this obsession is arguably having a serious adverse effect on our politics.

Monarchical systems of government were effective for long periods of history. Maybe they got certain things right that we get wrong. The monarch was not in the position he or she was in on account of his or her virtue or accomplishment but rather by an accident of birth. There were some advantages to this state of affairs which could be seen to have contributed to political stability, social harmony and continuity. “The King is dead. Long live the King!”

There is a moving scene in the film La Nuit de Varennes in which the ceremonial cape of the fleeing Louis XVI is displayed and the woman responsible for looking after it talks about having once watched the king address a large crowd. It was not the man that she saw in the distance but the red cape. In other words, it is not the person of the king but the role and the symbols of kingship which really count and which constitute the true focus one’s loyalty.

Sunday, January 21, 2018

Truth and justice

This is an abridged version of an essay of mine which appeared recently at The Electric Agora. My Twitter profile: @mark_english1.

It seems from a slew of documents that have made their way into the public domain over the last year or so that the FBI and the Department of Justice have become unacceptably politicized, allowing political considerations to affect internal decision-making. No doubt there always has been and always will be a degree of politicization within such agencies and departments, but this tendency does seem to have got out of hand in recent years, and it is no surprise that matters are coming to a head. Juridical and law enforcement systems need to be seen to maintain a certain degree of integrity and independence from politics if they are to operate in anything like an effective way.

Certainly, one doesn’t expect a lot of truth and justice in the broader political sphere. Politics is essentially a power game and often a very dirty one at that. So, naturally, to the extent that the legal system finds itself influenced or infiltrated by political players, it loses credibility.

Lawyers I have known have, on the whole, been pretty cynical about the law and sometimes cynical in other ways too. I was shocked as an idealistic young man by the attitude of a highly-regarded progressive lawyer I once consulted. He was not much older than me, but he confided to me in a dismissive kind of way that he had given up entirely on the sort of sincere idealism that he saw (rightly) as lying behind my preoccupations of the time. His public reputation and profile belied his real views and continued to do so as he rose to national prominence.

Idealists and well-meaning intellectuals who might seek to engage with, or who happen to find themselves caught up in, the alien world of politics – or the law, for that matter – tend not to thrive. On the other hand, though, ideologues will often find a lucrative niche in today's think-tank-infested world.

Rather than talking directly about politics, however, I just want to make a few remarks and observations about the two concepts – both fundamental to an understanding of social and political questions – which I alluded to above: truth and justice. The notions of truth and truthfulness happen to be central to my own view of things; justice not so much. Let me try to explain why.

Life, it seems to me, is deeply and irredeemably unjust, from the womb. Our attempts to “make things right” are worthy, even inspiring. But it is wishful thinking to believe that political or judicial actions can ever have more than a very modest positive effect on the scheme of things; that they can ever right more than a minuscule fraction of the countless wrongs and injustices that surround us on every side. Putting the matter less emotively, I would say that the domain of predicates such as ‘just’ or ‘fair’ is quite constrained and that related or cognate terms like ‘justice’ and ‘fairness’ have very limited applicability.

High-minded intellectuals – who, along with less high-minded intellectuals, were until a century or so ago sponsored almost exclusively by churches or religious organizations – have over the centuries worked out various schemes in which justice does prevail in very significant ways. The only trouble is, these systems – whether one is thinking of the politically-charged apocalyptic literature of Judaism and early Christianity, more sober accounts of divine judgment focused on an individual’s moral choices, or Eastern ideas of karma and reincarnation – do not correspond with reality. As I see it, unless you are committed to such or similar religious notions or at least to the implicit metaphysics of the Natural Law tradition, justice is a problematic concept. Too grand, too ambitious and (in many cases at any rate) not altogether clear.

We have certain instincts that we share with some non-human animals which entail reactions and behaviors that give the appearance of involving a basic, inbuilt sense of fairness or justice, but our developed ideas of justice are heavily mediated by culture and subject to cultural variation.

The current notion of social justice, for example, is clearly culturally determined. It has a peculiar and fascinating history which I may discuss in a future piece. It is also notoriously controversial. Friedrich Hayek rejected the concept of social justice as nonsense. Justice, as he saw it, is essentially a process and not about engineering some predetermined outcome. In general terms I go along with this but will not attempt to defend a Hayekian view here.

Of course, in cases where there is common agreement, I’m for justice rather than against it. Who wouldn’t be? But in many cases it is either impossible to clearly and uncontroversially define or, if it can be clearly defined, it is unattainable.

Truth does not have things stacked against it in quite the same way. Sure, it’s philosophically contentious. But so long as it is understood in an ordinary, everyday, lowercase kind of way, it is quite within reach and attainable much of the time.

I will try to spell this out a little. We often get things right in everyday life in the sense that the claims we make are in accordance with the relevant facts. The cat is in the kitchen. Dinner is served. The coffee is cold. You lied about where you were last night. Such claims, if they are in accordance with the relevant facts, are deemed to be correct or true (it doesn’t really matter which word we use) rather than incorrect/untrue/false. I am just talking about ordinary usage here. Someone accused of lying might deny it by saying: “That’s not true! I was at my grandma’s as I claimed.”

Truthfulness is quite distinct from truth, of course. It is synonymous with honesty and relates to one’s communicative intentions. One is being truthful if one tells it as one sees it, without trying to deceive one’s interlocutor in any way. The facts may be wrong, but it is the intention that counts here. Truthfulness and fallibility are quite compatible.

Truthfulness is inextricably bound up with intellectual integrity. The scientist or historian who fudges her data or distorts the facts is not a real scientist or a real historian. The intellectual or writer who presents the work of others as his own is a fraud and is rightly ostracized.

I have argued that it certainly does make sense to talk of the truth or otherwise of specific claims in the course of everyday life. But truth in its grander or more scientific or scholarly manifestations may be something of an illusion.

Although facts of various kinds may be verified by observation, experimentation, documentation or plausible testimony, how we conceive of facts in the context of scientific research is often determined to a greater or lesser extent by the theoretical framework. Cats and kitchens and coffee and grandmothers are givens within the framework of ordinary natural-language-based conversations. We are using ordinary words in ordinary ways. But when the framework is, say, a scientific theory, and we are moving beyond the normal social framework for which natural language evolved, we need to be more circumspect both in our claims and how we express them. The facts in the context of a scientific theory may be expressed in terms of the theory itself, and so become dependent on that particular conceptual framework (more or less as ordinary facts are dependent on the framework of natural language, social interaction and ordinary life). Do the English words ‘true’ and ‘truth’ carry over into a scientific context? Perhaps. But I don’t think it ever really makes sense to talk of a complex theory as true.

There is a website with the unfortunate name, Why Evolution is True. This just sounds wrong to me, a poor use of English. If ‘evolution’ is taken to refer to a process, then obviously the predicates ‘true’ and ‘false’ cannot apply. They can only apply to claims, beliefs, etc.. Even if the term ‘evolution’ is taken as shorthand for ‘the theory of evolution’ we still have problems. A theory is not a claim; nor is it merely a set of claims. It is a framework within which various claims are made and tested. Can a theory be true? This sort of statement doesn’t really make sense to me. A theory can be good or sound or well-established. Scientific theories are complex objects and they are not set in stone. There will always be modifications in the offing, of one kind or another.

Just as scientific theories are open to being shown to be incomplete or inadequate, so complex narratives purporting to be true accounts may be rejected as such if they are shown to be fictions, i.e. not in accord with certain known facts. But I think it is appropriate to be skeptical about all complex narratives. Inevitably, many quite different stories can be told which fit the known facts, and many more which fit some of the facts.

Much of our social and personal lives is driven by justificatory narratives of one kind or another. Political narratives could be seen as a subset of these: specifically as those justificatory, secular narratives which are shared (or which are designed to be shared) by large numbers of people.

I want to finish up with a few random observations on how antonyms and negation play into this discussion of justice and truth.

Just as the positive rights implicit in social justice are more controversial and contested than negative rights (like liberty), so the concept of justice is (I would suggest) more problematic than the concept of injustice or of a miscarriage of justice. You could argue about whether a person guilty of a crime, for example, ought to be punished in this way or that or punished at all or even blamed. (There might have been extenuating circumstances.) But there would be no disagreement at all about the wrongness of a miscarriage of justice, where a person innocent of a particular crime was convicted for it; or with respect to cases of a broadly similar kind but which do not involve the court system (so that the term miscarriage of justice would not apply). With respect to the latter, I am thinking of situations – not hard to find, it must be said – in which a person is disadvantaged or penalized in some significant way for what is generally accepted as honest and exemplary behavior.

Note that the two concepts, truth and justice, are not symmetrically related. Truth relates directly to justice. The legal process is designed to uncover the truth of what happened, and perjury is a serious offense. One talks of someone being falsely accused. But justice doesn’t relate directly to questions of truth and falsity. Claims are true or false according entirely to non-justice-related criteria. Justice (or injustice) just doesn’t come into it.


One example I have come across of truth being presented as being more problematic than its opposite is a literary one. No doubt there are countless possible examples one could give. This just happens to be one which stuck in my memory.

It comes from the author’s preface to a very controversial book by the literary academic and cinema historian, Maurice Bardèche, Nuremberg ou La terre promise. The book was published in 1948. The épuration légale was still underway. The execution of his friend and brother-in-law, the journalist Robert Brasillach, had politicized Bardèche. But my point here is logical and rhetorical and any discussion of the politics involved will be left for another time.

“I do not know if truth exists,” Bardèche wrote. “Many people have tried by subtle arguments to prove to me that it doesn’t. But I know that lies exist. I know that the systematic distortion of facts is a reality."

Friday, January 19, 2018


I have been neglecting this and my other Blogger site and concentrating on writing essays for Dan Kaufman's Electric Agora and (usually) posting shorter versions (plus links) to my G+ collections. I had intended to crosspost relevant essays here but haven't been doing this.

Over the past couple of years I have written quite a lot of material, and my EA essays have attracted a bit of attention and garnered well over a thousand comments in total.

The Electric Agora is not my site, however, and I don't have any control over it: over whether or in what form it continues, or over how the essays are indexed, etc.. (Though, as it happens, I am thinking of talking to Dan about the indexing question.) Anyway, I am thinking that I could use this site to bring together (possibly in revised form and/or with a view to reworking them) all of my relevant pieces from the EA (and elsewhere).

Again, one has no control over how particular platforms such as Blogger or G+ are going to develop (if indeed they continue), nor of course can one predict with any confidence how the general informational and communicational landscape is going to evolve in the future.

My intention is just to stick to the sites I currently have or contribute to.

Including my Twitter account... @mark_english1

Friday, August 11, 2017

A critique of neoconservatism

Here is an extract from my latest EA piece, on U.S. military adventurism.

"In many cases it’s hard to separate idealism from self-interest. In the case of a number of campaigning journalists and intellectuals with whom I am familiar (and their loyal readers and viewers) the real motivating factors are, I think, both personal and ideological. They see the institutions that reflect and support their personal value systems as being threatened from within their home countries (by the “deplorables” and their like) and also indirectly, by shifts in the geopolitical balance of power. As countries like China increase their economic and military clout, they will become more respected in cultural terms – and increasingly effective in projecting and promoting their value systems. Such qualities as loyalty and patriotism and competitiveness, for example, may be put above the sorts of concerns that usually come under the heading of “social justice.” The perception that the Western progressive agenda (which has been spectacularly successful in shaping social, cultural, legal and educational structures and institutions in North America and Western Europe in recent decades) is under threat seems like a fair reading of the current situation. But starting a world war to defend it is a thoroughly bad idea.

Making reasonable concessions to the independence and perceived security interests of countries like China, Russia and Iran, all of which have suffered from disastrous foreign interventions and invasions in the past, is obviously the right thing to do in the circumstances. But Western powers will not willingly give up the control of the framework of international relations that they currently exercise. As I see it, neoconservative writers and intellectuals are – knowingly or unknowingly – providing justificatory narratives for war-mongering politicians and ultimately serving nefarious purposes by promoting a distorted view of the world based half-truths and discredited myths.

The mainstream media’s fixation on Russia – the old Cold War arch-enemy – is both puzzling and concerning. Likewise, there seems to be very little questioning of the official line that Saudi Arabia is an ally whereas Iran is an implacable foe and fomenter of terrorism. How is it that such stories can go (relatively) unchallenged when Saudi Arabia’s track record on the terror front is so bad and so well-known?

There are certainly a lot of bad things happening in countries like Russia, China and Iran, but not all social evils warrant foreign military intervention."

[The case of North Korea is touched on in the essay. It is hard to see how this situation is going to resolve itself. The latest noises from China suggest that they will not stand for American-initiated regime change; though they can't have much love for the current leader.]

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Debt: the endgame approaches

Something unusual, something historically significant is going on.

Epochal shifts do occur in history, but they usually only become clear in retrospect. One of my professors had a large print of Seurat's "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" hanging in his study. It is emblematic of a period (between 1871 and 1914) which came to be known as la belle époque, a time of prosperity and peace and scientific and technological advancement which preceded the horrors of the Great War. Never again would such naïve, unclouded optimism prevail.

Some would say that the post-World War 2 world was such a period. And, perhaps surprisingly in view of the threat of a world-destroying nuclear conflict, there was during those years both optimism and rising prosperity. This time it was not military conflict which broke the spell, however, but rather deep underlying economic and social problems which have only slowly become evident.

I want to focus on two indicators, one economic and one social: the first quantitative, the second qualitative.

The quantitative indicator I am referring to relates to debt-levels, especially government and household debt; boring, I know, but extremely important and relatively easy to grasp. The qualitative indicator relates to levels of trust between different societal groupings and individuals and their relationship to freedom, morality and social cohesion.

Internationally, sovereign debt is at historically very high, if not unprecedented, levels. In the U.S., the national debt currently stands at 20 trillion dollars, or about 100% of GDP. Household debt is also very high, having returned to the levels which preceded the 2008 crisis. Total U.S. debt (public and private) stands currently at about 350% of GDP.

The situation is quite obviously precarious, not least because a continuance of the status quo is dependent on the very low interest rates which the coordinated activity of central banks has engineered. But central banks don't have complete control of interest rates. Longer dated government bonds (seen as indicators of expected inflation, and also as a bellwether of commercial interest rates) will eventually rise, putting severe pressure on highly indebted governments and other borrowers.

Another way of seeing the problem is in terms of the relationship between economic growth and borrowing. Basically, for the last forty years or so, growth has been dependent on increasing levels of borrowing. For the last nine years, loose monetary policy, which has allowed rapidly increasing debt levels, may have forestalled a worldwide recession, but only anaemic growth rates have been achieved. The consequences should be obvious to anyone who thinks about it. There are limits to what borrowing can achieve, and responsible planners realize that levels of sovereign debt are unsustainably high.

In the case of the United States and many other Western countries, the looming problem of unfunded liabilities – especially relating to pensions and social security programs – dwarfs official national debt figures. These promises can never be delivered on, but admitting this would have a high political cost.

There are only two ways out in the longer term: default, or inflating away the debt/liabilities (by money printing). I don't know what the consequences of default (on sovereign debt, say) would be – not good, obviously – but the inflation road is also a dangerous one. Inflation, once it takes hold, is notoriously difficult to contain. Moreover, the sorts of anti-inflationary policies which have succeeded in the past may not be politically possible today.

Already, Western (and Eastern) economies seem to be stalling. Highly indebted households in the U.S. are cutting back on discretionary spending. The endgame – probably beginning with a deflationary crisis which would lead to widespread defaults – may well be approaching. I hope it is, because the longer this debt-based charade continues, the more serious the consequences will be.

No individual or country has a right to a certain standard of living, even if people living in rich countries all too often assume that they do. But, not only can continuing prosperity not be guaranteed, poverty is already with us – even in the still relatively prosperous West. Look at the youth unemployment levels in many European countries, for example. Or the stresses being faced by middle- and lower-income families in America and elsewhere. Or the bleak prospects facing many (most?) retirees.

The loose monetary policies pursued by central banks has had the (presumably unintended) consequence of enriching the few at the expense of the many, as the prices of financial assets and certain categories of real estate have been disproportionately inflated.

Moreover our collective memory of the two World Wars and the Great Depression is now fading. Such knowledge as we have of these times is based more on reading and films than on actual memories or family stories. Having grown up (in the West) during a time of peace and prosperity we might be tempted to assume that what we have experienced is the norm, to see war and poverty as some kind of aberration. But history teaches us otherwise.

Even the years immediately after World War 2 were very tough, especially in Europe. Many areas – including Britain, France, Germany and Scandinavia – were in dire financial straits. The material standard of living was much lower than it is today.

Who is to say, then, that our present levels of prosperity will persist? Why should they? Debt levels strongly suggest that we are living beyond our collective means and have been for some time.

So perhaps the question should be: how can present levels of prosperity persist, given the fact that we have been increasingly dependent on credit and deficit spending by governments to fund our lifestyles?

I will address the (qualitative) question of trust and social cohesion another time.

Saturday, February 4, 2017

Sephardic Jews in England

A correspondent from Florida writes: "... [M]y ancestry includes English people named Abram (and originally Abraham) from the North Meols area. When I took my DNA test there were no Eastern European genes, but there was Iberian."

The area in question (North Meols, Lancashire) is, on the face of it, not a very likely place to find Jewish families, being rural and having Norse connections. But the name Abram/Abraham is usually Jewish and the Iberian DNA supports this.

One of the main points I have made in previous posts is that I believe that the extent of Jewish immigration into Britain, especially from Spain and Portugal, has been seriously underestimated.

There is arguably little surviving documentary evidence of these migrations, but genetic research is providing new data which will enable us to build a much more accurate historical narrative, one which may well change the way many of us perceive our cultural and ethnic identities.