Boundary Changes

Boundaries will always appear so much less significant if one views them through the wrong end of the telescope.

My father's generation did something quite shameful, they 'collectively' raided a larder which wasn't truthfully their's to raid, that invested for future generations. We watched them doing this, and we duly processed the 'information.' But, in attempting to come to terms with what we were witnessing, we applied the wrong filters. And, in so doing, we are now in the process of seriously compounding the error.

In truth the collective intergenerational-we were lazier than this. What the intergenerational-we did- and what the intergenerational-we are continuing to do- is the intergenerational-we allowed 'somebody else' to apply those filters. In effect, we allowed 'somebody else' to buy, to restructure, and then to apply those filters in our stead. We allowed those with money to tell us what to think and then what to do, and then we collectively did it... or rather we collectively abdicated responsibility and thus we collectively abdicated control.

Democracy was born. Democracy was bought. Democracy was 'remodelled.' And democracy died!



My mother stayed at home and raised the family. I realise that not all UK mothers did this- in our neighbourhood working mums were, applying different filters, quietly looked down upon- but staying at home and raising a family was sold to us as aspirational. Less than two whole generations later we reside in a society where earlier and earlier aged schooling is being deployed as a means to drive young mothers prematurely back into the marketplace.

I am not here advocating an iron fist approach to the issue, I am merely wishing to draw attention to the iron fist approach to the issue. That is to contend that the UK's drive to push ever-younger children into our (incidentally seriously underfunded) schools is a thinly veiled drive to provide cheap child-minding. The issue of today's families not being able to survive on one income is, quite naturally, a different yet irrevocably interwoven issue.

If we look at the Scandinavian approach to education- the term 'education' here being used more appropriately- we find that children start schooling two years later than those in the UK. A 2006 Unicef Report on children's wellbeing rated Denmark's children third and those in the UK bottom. Further to the issue of Scandinavian children starting their formal education two years later than British children, within two years of having commenced their education those in Scandinavian schools will have already caught-up and be (averaging) well ahead, and far more roundly educated, than their UK counterparts.



In the UK we are both divisive and 'we' are dishonest about education. And, in so doing and care of those aforementioned filters, we are collectively abdicating our responsibilities towards the next generation. Taught in underfunded schools by often-unqualified staff, herded through ever-narrowing SATs hoops, before being saddled with debt via 'our' cha-ching university system. Now, off to the housing treadmill you must go! Enact that neoliberal dream, if you please!

This is not in any way to knock any of those invariably-overworked and under-appreciated staff in our schools and universities; it is instead an objective observation of the filters being applied, when we are 'invited,' as we so often are, to judge them.

During my childhood teachers and many other public sector workers were appreciated, often admired, and certain professionals were frequently held in high esteem. Through today's tabloidesque filters the next generation of the same are being systematically undermined, often vilified, and continually scapegoated as ripe for yet further government cuts. They are also thus an ever-downward-pressure being applied to wages in the jobs' market.

During the 'bad' old days of the 70s, when the 'bad' old trade unions were holding the country to ransom, and the 'bad' old councils sheltered the 'shirking' classes in subsidised homes-for-life, and the UK was the 'sick' man of Europe, many mums did stay at home and raise children, who in turn were likely to get jobs, which in turn were likely to afford rents or potential mortgages consistently based upon three-times one's salary. In the 'bad' old days pensions were aspirational, as was the prospect of owning a single home, as was job-security. In the 'bad' old days different filters were applied. Although, even then, the manufacture of a more opaque version was already covertly underway.



Late on in the 'bad' old 1970's a security lock was effectively jemmied open and the infamous larder raiding did thus begin. History records what was sold off: the supply of gas, the supply of electricity, the supply of water, council housing stocks, the railways, the list is a long and indeed a shameful one. The filters at the time, rose-tinted or otherwise, obscured the raiding. As we came to terms with life's suddenly rosier hue we were reminded time and again that we really ought to climb on board this particular gravy train.

Since those heady, gravy days, the train has slowed somewhat- undoubtedly some cost-cutting corner, care of Virgin Trains- and now the stops are more infrequent, even fragmented. In order to sell off the Post Office there was the necessary rebranding, the identification of the most valuable assets and thus the drive of the less-valuable into crisis. I doubt many younger adults will recall that the Post Office was once massive, with an umbrella that incorporated telecommunications. In truth 'twas slightly lumbering, but the sharks were very quick to strip off the meatier chunks, and the 'free press' were there again to supply those rosy goggles. Sledgehammer and nut? Currently the remaining Post Offices are still under fire, simply because they offer something that the sharks cannot- local and safe storage of undelivered parcels- once gone, don't hold your breath! 

Of greater alarm by far- the (Sir Robert) Naylor Report will confirm- our NHS is currently being subjected to much the same sort of treatment.

Yet another area of our society that is frequently being subjected to filtering is policing. So very many different filters have been employed in order to 'appraise' the UK's police forces that it has almost been like a game of musical glasses. Those Tories keep reminding us of the money being spent and, importantly, that crime is going down. But, how can this be? Create enough substrata in any society and a rise in crime becomes inevitable, I'd have thought. There's the 'just about managing stratum'- even Mrs May occasionally refers to these people- and there's the 'not even remotely coping and relying on food banks stratum.' It's the ballooning of the second stratum that has prompted Mrs May to so frequently refer to the former- another filter surely- and we can rely on the Main Stream Media to polish it up and to make it sparkle. If any stratum is permitted to sink low enough isn't it inevitable that different 'laws,' or a lack thereof, might apply at vastly different 'depths?'



Of course, crime statistics are not as clear as our lords and masters would have us believe; many of the figures, such as they are, are easily disputed. And, there's always the manner in which the figures are compiled to be refuted. And crimes that aren't reported at all? Well, what can we do? With the best will in the world- never a given- it is surely impossible to compile figures that effectively do not even exist? Although, we might deign to speculate as to quite why these figures do not currently appear to exist.

In order to do just that, to speculate as to why they do not exist, I am going to cite a specific crime. A young man that I know recently had his flat broken into. He lost quite a deal of stuff; from experience I know that the event hit him hard, harder because he feels reasonably confident that he knows who the perpetrators are- his neighbours are inclined to concur. The police themselves may have more than an inkling, observing as they are inclined to do from ever further afield.

Will he report the crime to the 'local' police, make it official? He knows that they have nether the staff nor the resources to properly investigate; in truth, they'd given up on this before I was burgled in the early 90s. There are far too many nefarious and more urgent 'issues' to worry about. The roads also are barely policed anymore, although serious accidents are still measured and recorded for insurance purposes, I believe, before effectively being hosed on to the verges. If he reports the crime he will get a crime number, which will enable him to claim on his insurance. But, of course, he has no insurance, because he cannot afford it. So, knowing that the crime will not be investigated, will he bother? Perhaps he will pursue the absentee landlord through the courts, because the man has not bothered to secure a frequently reported faulty lock at the side of the building. I jest. 

The landlordly classes also require their own specific filtering process, my God how they 'require' it! It's a wonder that we can see at all. And, of course, in a very real sense, we cannot!

Crime figures are down, we are reminded. But, which crime figures would they be?



Amongst the strata there is also the 'coping-wonderfully-well-and-don't-really-care-about-other-layers' stratum. And here, please permit me to take a sizeable sideways step, into the field and wider concept of creature reintroductions. I refer, of course, to the idea that we might reintroduce a species to again live amongst our avifauna, one which has already once been extirpated from our shores.

Quite why we would wish to do this, upon an island where even many of the smaller and more manageable species that are left are fast declining, could be regarded as something of a mystery. The 'controversial reintroduction of the European Beaver, the proposed reintroduction of the Wolf, the European Lynx? Rewilding, I believe the 'conservationist' are excitedly calling the process.

As a conservation-minded soul myself, the idea of encountering a wild European Lynx or a Wolf quite thrills me. I know, from experience, just how much adrenalin such an encounter may swiftly generate, that curious balance between fear for one's immediate wellbeing and unbridled delight at having come so very close to one of nature's finest. But why, when we cannot conserve the likes of the Skylark, the Linnet, the Bullfinch the Tree Sparrow, the Yellow Wagtail, cannot even conserve the UK's major breeding woodland for Nightingales, would we consider reintroducing a showboat species like the Wolf, when the last UK record was shot some three hundred years previously?

The clue, I believe, lies within the previous sentence, primarily within the terms "showboat species" and, more specifically, within the word, "shot!" I would go so far as to suspect that this is one 'conservation' effort with which even the likes of Mr Angry-Gun-Wielding Botham might yet agree. By all means let us reintroduce the Wolf and the Lynx, but let's also bother with the smaller stuff shall we, the creatures which don't seem to count for much when the 'developers' move in. Oh, and if we're going to go to all the expense and bother of reintroducing a past species let's ensure that it doesn't end up as target practice for some depleted dentist half-a-generation down the line.



Two generations on from the 'bad' old 70s, we live in a very different world. One where one's clothing accessories and shiny white teeth, aid of the MSM-applied filters, may easily hold more sway than any form of compassion or sense of community. In today's what-passes-for-society the best that we might perhaps hope of ourselves, on the social scale, is that we are that little bit less of a hypocrite than is our 'neighbour.'

"I count myself jolly lucky to have got on board with the sell off of Anglian Water but, my God, isn't it awful that those bloody Virgin train fares are going up yet again?"  "Have you seen my water rates? Way things are going I might have to sell off a couple of those council homes I snaffled with last year's annual bonus." "Tried your hand at the stocks and shares game? Found this tidy little app..."

Truth is that, of all those who play the game, all of those who manage to convince themselves that they're actually beating the stocks and shares odds, almost nobody- small fry that is- wins. Even the mass automated systems which are meticulously programmed to compute thousands of volatile figures each second, against which one must successfully compete, even they will not always turn in a profit. But, just Google, "play the stock market" and you'll be bombarded with sites that'll promise you the Earth. They'll find ways of dressing up the losses, tossing you another depleted bone, find as many ways to keep you playing as you'll find ways of losing. The House always wins! Even the old cynic- that would be 'me'- was surprised to learn that, of those players who consider themselves 'winners,' less than 2% manage to beat the system- and that's amongst individuals who, aid of some smart language and the right filters, consider themselves to be amongst the canny winners. Invite the plebs to gamble their money in a marketplace that has become increasingly, often legally, questionable and it somehow legitimises the practise. We must insist on safety goggles, please everyone! 

So, life is rather like an elastic band, isn't it? We lay it out and we place everybody on the line, from the richest to the poorest and then we flesh it out with details like 'affordable holidays,' a 'new car,' a 'mortgage,' or maybe just simple things like a 'meal on the table,' a 'loaf of bread,' 'tea-bags,' 'pay the rent,' 'afford the new train season ticket.' And then we find 'the' most important detail, where to stick the 'I'm surviving' dot. Then we do exactly what consecutive governments have been doing for a generation, we stretch that band!

Now, are you to the right or the left of that all important dot that's just got so much further away? Don't get too cocky, terms and conditions do apply, the management reserves the right to move any dot, as is arbitrarily deemed to be in the greater interests of...

Is it just me, or did everything suddenly get so much brighter?