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February 2010
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So are we going to war against Iran next? Tony Blair seems to think it’s a fair bet, and if he were in power alongside Bush, perhaps that is what would be happening soon.
Blair’s religious fundamentalism is not the fundamentalism of intolerance, but something much more scary; an unshakeable belief in what is right for the world. As Prime Minister he believed in racial, sexual and gender equality, and tried hard to make Britain a fairer place to live. All well and good, and a million miles away from Islamic fundamentalism, or even the George Bush kind of blinkered, literal-minded, scape-goating belief, which had no real interest in a fairer world, and depended on a hot-line to a god who was a conservative white American.
Blair’s problem is old-fashioned good and evil. He is a much more sophisticated thinker than Bush, and more inclusive in his politics, but the fatal common ground was their certainty that evil could be defined as ‘terror’, that we all knew where ‘terror’ was coming from, and that pre-emptive war is justified.
I do not disagree that there is such a thing as evil, nor do I argue over the grave situations we face with intolerant and repressive regimes. But we can’t wage war because we are sure that we are right. And we can’t swerve history away from our own wrong-doing in the past into a victorious present of ‘just war.’
Western intervention in the Middle East has pretty much got us where we are so far. Any reading of USA and UK interference - whether in Iran or Iraq or Palestine or Afghanistan shows a miserable disregard for the long-term stability of those nations. The history of our manipulations is so depressing that it is easier to disregard it, and go to war as a kind of final solution. Blair talks about ‘failed’ nation states, but he does not talk about how that failure came about.
So I have been following the Chilcott inquiry and thinking that after all this time and money, nothing will really happen. Blair left the inquiry saying that he would go to war again – and this man is Peace Envoy in the Middle East. If he is branded a war criminal, at least he won’t be able to travel. That alone would be worth the judgement.
I am writing this on the Eurostar to Paris, where amongst other things I read that only 30% of Britains now think that same-sex love is wrong. It was double that percentage twenty years ago. I know it was because I suffered from it endlessly, and my experience now is that yes, things are far better, but no, the media hasn’t given up using gay sex to sell newspapers.
On the other hand, I have some sympathy, as selling newspapers at all is nearly impossible.
But having a new girlfriend has been as tricky as ever. I seem to have the choice of saying nothing at all – a kind of gagging order – the love that dare not speak its name – or saying, ‘lucky me I’ve met someone fabulous’, not wanting to say who it is, and being chased until the thing is revealed.
My poor girlfriend got caught in the end when she was giving an interview on labiaplasty to the Sunday Times, and on the way out – yes, on the doorstep, interview over, tape off, the journalist whom she knew slightly said something on the lines of ‘great about you and Jeanette’, and the PG (poor girlfriend) laughed and said ‘Yeah, shocking isn’t it?’
Next thing, the serious interview is pulled and the Sunday Times ‘reveals’ the romance.
I am still not prepared to talk about it, because I was never interested in doing that – only that in these columns over the last two years, I have written about my personal struggles and deep sadness, and had a huge, and helpful and kind response from readers, and also a lot of messages saying that my willingness to talk about difficult things has been valuable to others. And so I wanted to say that a very good thing had happened unexpectedly and rather beautifully. A gift.
But in our world you cannot be private without being secret…
And I suppose I have been a bit of an idiot, because although I write these columns in what feels to me quite a private way – talking to my readers through my website – it is a public arena.
Part of me never wants to say anything again. But that is not the answer either.
I guess I won’t ever resolve these dilemmas.
At home the snow has finally gone and I have stopped feeding the birds two loaves a day. Snowdrops are coming up, and the roof is nearly on my ruin next door. I feel excited about this year – and I cannot believe that it is 25 years since Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit was published.
I don’t understand time – but then neither does anyone else.
If you are in New York City this month, I shall be doing a reading with the wonderful AM Homes at NYU on Thursday Feb 10th.
Meanwhile – back now from a freezing Paris I find that I spoke to soon about the snow. So I will have to copy Michaelangelo and his fabulous snow-sculptures, and make something beautiful that will disappear. But life is like that, and posterity is worth nothing.
This is the time we have. Make it real
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