Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Tuesday, 28 June 2011
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Into Libya
One of the few things I got out of my four years of university politics, along with heavy debt and absolutely no advantage in the jobs market, was the near-certainty that foreign intervention was almost always a foolish mistake.
Look at the history of English and American interventionism: the Empire, Vietnam, Afghanistan (each and every time) and, of course, unfolding in front of my eyes at the time, Iraq. A sorry set of sorties, it has to be said. There are one or two that are more open to debate: World Wars 1 and 2, for example. Generally speaking, though, I'm a non-interventionist. It's about as firm a principle as I have.
I realise now, though, that it's easy to hold such a view when the evidence is so crashingly in your favour, as I believe it is in all the above cases. Right now, though, my "faith" in non-interventionism is being sorely tested by the unfolding events in Libya.
I certainly don't profess to be any sort of expert on north African politics, so was quite happy to blithely assume that Libya would go the way of Egypt and Tunisia before it - with the dictator being run out of town by the popular uprising of the masses. That's how it looked in the beginning here, too. The rebel forces were said to be sweeping through the coastal towns between their base, Benghazi, and Gaddafi's in the capital, Tripoli. There was even excited talk of Gaddafi throwing in the towel immediately and making for the presumably safer haven of Venezuela.
Clearly, though, talk was all it was. As I/we wrung our hands, Gaddafi's forces launched a brutal counter-offensive against the rebels, pushing them out of many of the towns they'd recently occupied/liberated with a view to launching a sustained assault on Benghazi itself. The previously triumphal talk turned to the bloodshed that would inevitably follow if and when Gaddafi's troops conquered that city for the Government. The rebel chief, Mustafa Abdel Jalil, claimed that such a victory for Gaddafi would lead to the deaths of 500,000 rebels.
That possibility was taken seriously, clearly, by the international community, because as I write we are now into the fourth night of UN-sanctioned NATO airstrikes on Gaddafi's forces. I hear that the NATO countries making the intervention are keen not to be seen as the air force of the rebels, but are merely levelling the playing field by knocking out much of Gaddafi's heavy armour (which the rebels lack the means to do themselves).
So, here we go again - military action overseas, where the UK's direct interests aren't threatened. It certainly seems like a purely humanitarian intervention. That's good news, because the Muslim world has very few honourable Western interventions to bring to mind when contemplating extremism.
I have to admit, against my stated principles, a significant part of my was thrilled when the UN passed the resolution that sanctioned this intervention. As the Times journalist (and noted interventionist) David Aaronovitch tweeted before the decision to intervene was made "I fear that we're about to see the reality of non-intervention before our eyes in Libya". The bloody crushing of the supposed Arab Spring by Gaddafi's forces was an awful prospect.
When push comes to shove, I probably still wouldn't have made the decision to intervene were it up to me (ha!), but, now that someone else has taken the responsibility on themselves, I really, truly hope it all goes to plan.
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
It all starts with a leak...
Generally speaking, my apathy knows no bounds, but just occasionally I am shaken out of my docility by something exciting. The Wikileaks vs Governments skirmish seems to have done just that.
Monday, 29 November 2010
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
Back with a whimper
Friday, 17 September 2010
Wednesday, 30 June 2010
Not in My Name
This post has been delayed quite significantly by the occurrence of World Cup games every flipping evening. Apologies. I couldn't not watch, though. I love football.
I don't love England (the football team), though. This World Cup has been the first one where I haven't supported the Three Lions (excepting those times when they failed to qualify at all). In fact, I not only haven't supported them, I haven't even watched them play, which has on occasion meant going quite considerably out of my way. My decision not to join my countrymen in supporting “our boys” has gone down pretty poorly with my friends, too. Going for a kip during England's opening match against the USA was a particularly unpopular move.
I've got my reasons, though, by jove. These are they:
1. Loathsome people – especially in the team. I can't go from detesting the very sight of John Terry and Ashley Cole on a weekly basis to cheering for them for a month every two years. It feels weird, two-faced and conviction-less (the last of which I certainly am not).
It's not just the players, though, if I'm honest. It's (some of) the fans, too. They're loud, obnoxious, boorish and sun-burnt. I'm only one of those things, I fondly believe. A large and vocal element of them are basically horrible. I don't want to be associated with them and they put me off. Some people might think that's snobbery, but I don't really agree. Surely I'm allowed to find some people, well, just unpleasant? I wouldn't support the estate agent industry, either, were I in it. This metaphor is confusing and I want out.
2. Patriotism and the last refuge of the scoundrel – isn't actually the best quote on the subject. That award goes to George Bernard Shaw for “patriotism is the belief your country is superior to all other countries because you were born in it”. It's patent nonsense and I don't feel much/any of it. It's almost totally arbitrary where you're born and I don't think the UK's such a screaming big deal anyway. Not for me.
3. Solidarity with my ma – who is only the most prominent (to me) reminder that not everyone likes being invaded by football every time an international tournament rolls around. It's not just internationals, too. The Premiership has grown to monstrous proportions and consumes ever more of our lives, football lover or not. These people are English too, aren't they?
Really, supporting anything is about caring for and relating to it. I'm not fussed in the slightest whether England ever manage to string passes together and I just don't feel part of the whole thing. It's not them, it's me. What the devil's wrong with that?
Tuesday, 25 May 2010
Waking Up to a Massive Election - Part II
Thursday, 13 May 2010
Waking Up to a Massive Election - Part I
Phew! That was exhausting, wasn't it? In spite of myself, I've been pretty captivated by recent proceedings. Maybe I'm not so jaded and cynical after all?