All things being equal...

The Women’s World Cup starts next month, and I am looking forward to it mightily.  I’ve had a life-long love of football and Mrs GOM despairs whenever there’s an international tournament during the Northern Hemisphere’s off-season, as the brief respite she gets from having to suffer the sport is foreshortened by the summertime coverage.

She does have the good grace to allow me to watch and has occasionally accompanied me to fixtures that she’d rather not sit through.  One such fixture was the 2012 Women’s Olympic final at Wembley, where not only Mrs GOM, but both the junior GOMs were hauled along.  Surprisingly, the enjoyment was unanimous.  We saw a brilliant game between the USA and Japan with the USA triumphing 3 – 0 and Daughter of GOM got to wave the flag of her birth-right with pride.

Despite the score, it was a very competitive match, played at high intensity and with all the skill and technique one would expect from an elite football match.  Joyously, the only thing lacking was the histrionics of the men’s game.  Tackled players popped to their feet without resorting to a quarter-length pitch roll à la Neymar; the absence of the theatrics did not diminish the theatre.  So, if you’ve never taken the time to watch the women’s game, I urge you to switch on the TV on 7 June, encourage your nearest and dearest to perch on the sofa with you, and enjoy the unfolding events.

Unfortunately, this year’s competition won’t be graced by Ada Hegerberg, who has been voted the BBC Women's Footballer of the Year 2019, an award which follows her win in 2018 of the inaugural Ballon d'Or Féminin, a prize determined by football journalists, that arguably crowns the best player in women’s football[1].  She has also just helped her club team, Olympique Lyonnais Féminin, to their fourth consecutive Champions League title, scoring a hat-trick along the way, in their 4 – 1 defeat of Barcelona.

Ada hails from Norway and would likely be the first name on the team sheet in every national manager’s team if they had a player with her talent.  She won’t, however, be attending the World Cup.  Not because Norway didn’t qualify, they did, winning their group.  She’s not injured either; judging from her performance in the Champions League final, she’s in the form of her life.  No, it’s much simpler than that.  Ada Hegerberg will not be attending the World Cup because in 2017, she walked away from Norway's national team after growing increasingly frustrated with its set-up and what she called a “lack of respect” for female players.

She’s a little reticent to go public with the specifics of her concerns; she fears distortion and has stated that “... things are going to blow up everywhere” if she speaks.  She has also said that she has been clear in her points with the Norwegian Football Federation (NFF) about what they need to do to improve equality in the game.  Bear in mind that the NFF was the first in world football to offer women pay parity with the men’s national team, but as Hegerberg said in a recent interview with the BBC, “It’s not always about money.  It’s all about attitude and respect.  We are talking about young girls, giving them the same opportunity as boys, giving them the same opportunity to dream.

“If you change those attitudes in the beginning, things will automatically change as well.

“The men in the suits cannot see that.  They’re going to understand one day that this is more about society than modern football.  It’s so important for me, that I can’t sit and watch things not going in the right direction. And it would be easy for me to perform, do my thing and just stay quiet.  But I think it’s so much bigger than that.

Martin Sjörgen, Norway’s coach who confirmed that Hegerberg would not play for the team said, “We tried to solve it, we had meetings, but she decided not to play."  Clearly, he and the men of the NFF did not try hard enough and have failed to address their much deeper failings.

The BBC interview and the comments from Sjörgen point to a more nuanced argument than one that can be addressed by mere structural changes, although pay parity is a small step in the right direction.  Fundamental change begins with a shift in attitude, a recognition that equality is needed regardless of gender.  Hegerberg’s voice is important and she recognises it, “Winning all these individual trophies or with a team, all the success gives you a voice.  And it’s not about me.  It’s never been about me.  It’s about getting the change that needs to be done for sport.”

But it’s not just in sport, it’s in all walks of life.  Change is required in schools, the workplace, and in society.  Equality isn’t a women’s issue.  It’s one for all of us, we have a shared responsibility to address the everyday imbalances that exist; in health, education, care giving, treatment in the media, representation, pay and opportunity; all are areas that need attention.

Ada Hegerberg has taken a bold stance, sacrificing her career as an international footballer.  Her voice is important, as are the voices of millions of other women, influential or otherwise.  What’s equally important is the need to listen to what they’re saying and to act.  That, I would argue, is very much a job for the men.

A postscript from Mrs GOM: In what is a rich irony, I gave the GOM one job to do today – to hang out the washing.  Needless to say, whilst he was advocating for women’s rights, the machine remained full until I got home from work to empty it.

Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019
24 May 2019

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[1] FIFA has a separate award for the women’s best player that last went to the Brazilian, Marta, a six-time winner.

The right to choose

I’m not a great student of Geography, but apparently, to get to Alabama you turn left at the end of the 20^th century and walk on for 30 years.  When you get there, you’ll find that its State legislature goes back even further in time and is filled with dinosaurs; in this case 99 of them.  74 in Alabama’s House of Representatives and a further 25 in its Senate, who have just determined that it will be illegal to have an abortion in the state.  The ruling didn’t even pass with a slim majority; only three in the House and six in the Senate opposed the bill.

I’m a little apprehensive about commenting on this subject.  It’s a divisive issue and what I’m about to say may be offensive to some.  Of greater concern though, is that I am commenting on something I will never experience.  By default, any empathy that I have can only ever fall short.  It doesn’t mean, though, that I cannot feel and express my outrage at the decision and express my support for women everywhere.

The Alabama bill was near total in its ban.  It makes no exceptions for pregnancy resulting from rape or incest, an insanely wicked position.  There was an attempt to introduce an amendment to the bill in the Senate that would have provided exceptions for victims of rape and incest, but that failed by a vote of 21-11.  In what may come as no surprise whatsoever, all the votes against the amendment were cast by men.  Included among them was Sen. Clyde Chambliss of Prattville, AL; clearly a place named after him, who argued that the ban was still fair to victims of rape and incest because those women would still be allowed to get an abortion until she knows she's pregnant.  Never mind that the victim’s trauma may leave them utterly afraid and paralysed into taking the action that he is suggesting.  It’s an inhuman response from a privileged man who is utterly ignorant of the suffering a rape victim experiences.

Although Kay Ivey, Alabama’s Governor, is a woman, her gender didn’t make her any more sympathetic when she signed the ban into law on Wednesday.  In a statement that evening, Ivey wrote, "Today, I signed into law the Alabama Human Life Protection Act.  To the bill's many supporters, this legislation stands as a powerful testament to Alabamians' deeply held belief that every life is precious & that every life is a sacred gift from God."

She’s the same person who signed the authority to execute Michael Brandon Samra, whose life ended yesterday.  I’m not advocating capital punishment and I don’t condone Michael Samra’s crimes, they were horrendous; he murdered four people including two girls aged six and seven and he should be punished, however it’s the hypocrisy of Governor Ivey’s statement that I find extraordinary.  Clearly not every life is precious and the sacred gift from God that she claims.

Alabama’s Senate Majority Leader, Greg Reed, didn’t do much better when he said the legislature was carrying out “the express will of the people, which is to protect the sanctity of life,” yet according to a Tweet from the think tank Data for Progress, “there is no state in the country where support for banning abortion reaches even 25 percent.”

There is one exception to the ‘Human Life Protection Act’ which is when an “abortion is necessary in order to prevent a serious health risk” to the woman, according to the bill's text.  Presumably the damage to the mental health of a woman who has been raped and is carrying the child of her attacker wouldn’t be considered a ‘serious health risk’.

The bill also criminalises an abortion procedure, classifying it as a Class A felony which could result in a custodial sentence for the doctor performing the act of up to 99 years.  It’s not inconceivable that the punishment meted out to a rapist causing the pregnancy could be shorter than that of the doctor who has terminated it.

Alabama is not alone.  Others are seeking to systematically dismantle women’s rights.  At least 15 other states have either enacted, or propose to enact, abortion bans, underpinning a broad strategy from anti-abortion activists who are seeking to persuade the U.S. Supreme Court to reconsider the 1973 Roe v. Wade ruling, which legalised abortion nationwide.

Americans aren’t remaining silent on the subject, civil right advocates and pro-choice organisations such as the ACLU and Planned Parenthood will mount legal challenges in order to stop the law from taking effect – there are many battles to be fought.  Other groups such as Alabama’s The Yellowhammer Fund and the National Network of AbortionFunds are working to provide finance and support to women who will need to cross state lines to seek lawful abortion procedures.

America’s legislators are failing in their duty to protect women’s health.  They are choosing to pander to a core of constituents with sanctimonious views that suit their interpretation of scripture.  Senator Chambliss stated, “that if we terminate the life of an unborn child, we are putting ourselves in God’s place,” and he doesn’t see any irony in his words.

Sen. Vivian Figures attempted to provide him some perspective when she addressed him, “You don't have to raise that child, you don't have to carry that child, you don't have to provide for that child, you don't have to do anything for that child, but yet you want to make that decision for that woman, that that's what she has to do.”  Perhaps she should have gone a bit further and asked him to imagine if the victim was one of his daughters.

I find it astonishing that the American people are even facing a risk to the landmark legislation that Roe v Wade represents.  How is it that America’s law makers can even contemplate make anachronistic decisions that are morally bankrupt and utterly insensitive to women’s health?  Whilst legislators continue to propose and pass these draconian bills, consider the impact they will have on the health of thousands of American women.

The actions of legislators in Alabama and other states that are threatening the rights of women should be under the microscope, and they should be held to account at the ballot box and removed from office, replaced by officials better equipped to govern in the 21^st century.  That is an opportunity that presents itself infrequently and can only be exercised by the local electorate.  There is more though, that can be done.  There are links in this post to the organisations that are resisting the threat to women’s freedom to choose.  If you feel in anyway compelled, give generously.

Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019
17 May 2019

https://www.aclu.org/

https://www.plannedparenthood.org/

https://yellowhammerfund.org/
https://abortionfunds.org/

Leave our flag alone

It was with great interest that I listened to an excellent sermon by the local vicar during our recent patronal service.  Normally this service is closer to St George’s Day on 23 April, but given the timing of Easter this year, we observed the service last Sunday.  Some may find this a little odd, but as Revd Becky pointed out, in Palestinian culture the feast is held on 5 May, so we were bob-on for the celebration somewhere in the world.

Our church is named ‘St George the Martyr’ so there’s a connection to England’s favourite dragon slayer and we’ve an excellent stained-glass depiction of him jabbing ‘Ascalon’[1] through the subdued reptile’s belly.  I suspect that a lot of people in the UK associate St George with this warrior saint from the Crusades (actually, I suspect a lot of people haven’t got the foggiest notion about him, but in the interests of narrative expression, I’ll stick with my assertion).

However, the legend of Saint George and the Dragon has been borrowed and distorted on so many occasions that there’s no clear definitive source to its origins.  It’s suggested that it has pre-Christian roots in Greek mythology and has been attributed to plenty of other saints before George even had a sniff, though he got the lasting credit sometime during the 11^th Century, presumably when someone said “My saint’s bigger than your saint.”

That does beg the question, “Who is the real St George?” and I’m glad you asked.  He’s not remotely English for a start.  He didn’t so much as pay a visit to Blighty.  Nope, George was a Cappadocian Greek soldier who was sentenced to death and executed for refusing to recant his Christian faith on 23 April 303 AD.  Yes, he was a soldier (for the Romans, so probably an immigrant), no, he didn’t slay a dragon, and by the time the Crusades got going, he’d been pushing up daisies for about 700 years.

So for the far-right to add to the distortion and adopt the English flag, with it’s Christian association of the blood of Christ on the cross, and suggest that St George is the embodiment of all that is English and a staunch defender of our ways and customs is, I’m delighted to say, a load of bollocks.  Albeit, our lovely vicar managed to express that sentiment somewhat more eloquently.

Politics and religion shouldn’t mix; the founding fathers in the US were particularly specific about separation of Church and State, but there’s about as much hope of that happening as Barça winning this year’s Champions League.[2]

I tend not to ‘do’ politics.  Not because I don’t have an opinion, but rather because I have so many, most of them conflicting.  Election time for me is genuinely a time to reflect on the options before me and make a choice based on what I think will represent the best outcome.  Being a liberal conservative with a strong sense of social justice doesn’t half make it hard to have an argument about the need for austerity whilst ensuring we have greater levels of funding for education and the NHS and, whilst I’m at it, we have a desperate need to bring both highly-skilled and hardworking immigrants into the country to keep our institutions running and the country fed.

Equally, expressing my religious affiliation is something that I tend to steer clear of unless asked, primarily out of respect to others who might exercise their right to follow a different faith or none at all.  I don’t wish to evangelise and I’m not looking to be recruited.  I am content simply to be a part of my local church community, worship with like-minded people and try to observe the tenets of my faith, conscious that every time I’m being critical, I’m casting the proverbial first stone.

On this occasion, I’m going to make an exception for both which is to make a statement to the far-right politicians and their followers, which sadly, will probably go unheard.

The flag is not yours.

The flag of St George doesn’t represent your views.  It isn’t an embodiment of nativism, racism and xenophobia.  It doesn’t stand for a country that rejects social equality and favours white supremacism.  It’s a Christian symbol, of an immigrant soldier that is deeply rooted in his values and beliefs.  So, “Eff-off and leave it alone.”

Far-right ideology is poisonous.  It invites hatred, it creates divisions, it is manifestly evil and its proponents are destroying our country, which is already bitterly divided over Brexit.  Our country was led down the garden path by lying and scheming politicians that include prominent establishment figures such as Boris Johnson and Jacob Rees-Mogg.  The BBC and other mainstream media are once more giving Nigel Farage disproportionately more airtime than other pro-European politicians so that he can peddle his odious message which is undermining the fabric of our country.  They should stop.

In recent local elections, pro-European parties, in particular the Liberal Democrats and the Green Party, presided over a significant shift in the local-body political landscape.  I believe that those results suggest that the country has woken to the truth that we were lied to during Brexit campaigning, that we will be considerably worse off out of the European Union and that we’d like to have the opportunity to vote again on the subject now that we have a much better understanding of reality.

Astonishingly, Theresa May stated that the “local elections send a simple message to just get on and deliver Brexit.”  That is utter nonsense and yet another illustration of a Prime Minister who has lost touch with her party, the electorate and her senses.  Clearly the pressures of dealing with a divided government, an insidious party, and an incoherent opposition have sent her out of her mind.

It all makes for a state of despair, and gives me something truly GOM-worthy to moan about.  Sadly though, this rant doesn’t make the situation any better, but does leave me with a genuine question, “How do we make our politicians listen?”  The answer, unfortunately, is probably by saying things that they want to hear, which is incredibly maddening and unlikely to happen, unless of course Mr Farage wants me to call him a self-serving, narcissistic, arrogant prick; in which case, I will.

What more can we do?  A million people marching in London to call for a People’s Vote, an overwhelming swing in the fortunes of those parties that favour remaining in Europe, and the emergence of fraudulent activity and dishonest claims in the original referendum, seem not to be enough to foster action to revisit our malaise.

Unlike St George who was martyred for upholding his beliefs, Theresa May’s dogged determination to stick to a flawed Brexit result will not result in her canonisation.  Rather, she’ll take the country a step closer to a ruinous landscape that will leave us all worse off, the far-right included.

Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019
10 May 2019

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[1] If you watch Game of Thrones, you’ll know that all the best swords have a name.

[2] Did I mention I’m a Liverpool fan?

Spoiler alert

There was a time, not so long ago, when if you missed a TV show, you had to get your friends to tell you what happened.  In those days, there was an imperative to have the conversation, so that by next week’s episode, you’d be up to speed.

That changed a little with the advent of video recorders, albeit, only the kids could keep up with their shows, because the adults were clueless about the technology.  For me, this meant that I no longer needed to be the only child in the playground who’d watched ‘Coronation Street’ at the expense of ‘The Dukes of Hazzard’ and I finally got to understand why the other boys went doe-eyed when talking about Daisy Duke.

What this also signalled, was the arrival of the spoiler, although back then, we didn’t have a name for it, we just knew we wanted to avoid them.  Admittedly, it has always been the case with movies.  If you didn’t get to see it before the news was out, you’d be bloody livid if someone told you about Vader and Luke in ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ or if they revealed the shocker from ‘The Force Awakens’; there were plenty of reports about beatings due to spoilers following that one, happily, they were largely hoaxes (though I wish I could be more categoric).

As technology has evolved, the landscape has changed, and we are now firmly entrenched in the age of the spoiler.  On-demand TV, streaming services and the ability to record multiple channels simultaneously means that there are now an astonishing number of shows available, but with insufficient leisure time to watch them.

Between us, Mrs GOM and I have three lists on the go with 25 different series recommendations, and those are just the ones that people can remember over a pint.  I’ve stopped going to the pub in case I come home with another 36 hours of binge watching ahead of me.

Whilst I say 25, in reality, it’s 23.  ‘The Unforgotten’ was common to all three lists, which by my reckoning must account for a show worth watching, so I suggested to Mrs GOM that we tackle that one next.

  “I’ve already watched it,” she replied.

  “What?  When?”

  “When I was doing the ironing.”

  “But…”  There wasn’t much more I could say really, as a large proportion of the ironing is done on my behalf, however, I have made a note to restrict future shirt purchases to the non-iron variety.

The situation, if not the ironing pile, is only going to get worse.  Wall Street is predicting that Amazon Studios will spend somewhere between $6-8 billion on original content in 2019.  That pales by comparison with what they’re forecasting for Netflix, a whopping $15 billion.  By any accounting, that’s going to result in a hell of a long list of fresh spoilers to avoid.  That said, hopefully they’ll divert some of that cash my way, I’ve got a brilliant idea for a series that would only use a fraction of their budget.  Let them know to give me a shout.

Of course, this week’s little rage doesn’t entirely stem from the number of programmes available to watch, but rather from a couple of spoilers that have emerged following the start of season 8 of ‘Game of Thrones’ (‘GoT’, as distinct from ‘GOM’).

It doesn’t help that Daughter of GOM (D of G) is obsessed with GoT and (failure to exercise parental responsibilities aside) has watched the lot.  Mrs GOM and I, somewhat late to the party, have only just reached episode 1 of season 5, so are doing our best to avoid learning which characters remain alive.

It’s also not entirely helpful that GoT will probably have finished before we even reach the next season, as we’re not allowed to watch it unless D of G is present.  That isn’t so much because she wants to refresh her memory, rather, it’s so she can build upon her private GOM family ‘Gogglebox’ collection by recording our reactions to some of GoT’s more shocking moments and, despite failing to exercise appropriate parental controls over the Wi-Fi connection, we are keen that we limit our time in front of the TV, so that she spends a little more time in front of her text books rather than on the sofa generating content for YouTube.

Additionally, the global simulcast at 2.00am, and D of G’s desire to avoid spoilers the following day, has not made for widespread domestic harmony, nor particularly ideal study conditions for her forthcoming GCSE exams.  Shame there’s not a GoT GCSE, D of G would ace it.

Despite her obsession, it must be said that D of G is at pains to avoid sharing spoilers with us.  The house is regularly filled with unfinished sentences as she realises, mid-conversation, that if she continues she’s potentially going to give the game (of Thrones) away.  Sadly, the same is not the case with the Twittersphere, so with apologies to some of my dearest friends, I’ve unfollowed you on Twitter until the hysteria has ended, although it may be simpler to become a Trappist Monk.  At least that would come with the added benefit that they make a decent beer and it would compensate for not going to the pub.

As I pause for lunch, about to watch episode 11 from season 4 of ‘Breaking Bad’, I reflect that all is not lost.  When scanning my phone for one of the lists of shows, I came across a long-forgotten catalogue that was also compiled during a visit to a pub, the ‘Gin list’.  Now there’s a different form of binge to be getting on with.

Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019
4 May 2019

Less is more

I had the good fortune to pop into a friend's house yesterday to sample a quiet ale. 

Sitting around his dining table, he asked how the writing was going.

  "Okay," I said.

  "Good," he replied, before adding.  "I enjoy your blog."

There was a moment's hesitation that preceded the inevitable 'But'.  I encouraged him to continue.

  "Well," he said, fumbling for the kindest way to frame it.

  "Go, on, just say it as it is."

  "Okay.  They're a bit... long."

So, in the interests of brevity.

Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019
29 April 2019

Kids these days

Chapter one of the GOM 101 text book is titled “The Good Old Days”.  It points to glorious times in years gone by and provides fuel for grumpy old men everywhere to bemoan the lamentable state of the world today, harking back to a time when life was simpler, happiness was a more abundant commodity and politicians were much better at fiddling their expenses.

The second chapter, “Kids These Days”, somewhat controversially flips the theme from the first chapter on its proverbial head and reminds us that young people today don’t know how lucky they are.  Clearly things are better for them than they were for us.  The definition of ‘kids’ is quite broad.  In the world of a GOM, qualification is granted to a younger sibling of one of your mates, or anyone that harbours an opposing view who has a less faded birth certificate.

Unbelievably, there are Millennials today that are taking their first tentative steps on the GOM ladder, who have realised that it’s no longer all about them; Generation Z is stealing their thunder.  They, and the Generation Zedders, should shut their mouths; they’re all too young to know any better.

Despite living in ‘The Good Old Days’, GOM training dictates that we must pronounce upon the hardships we faced.  According to the text book, we wore clothing made from hessian sacks and had to walk fifteen miles to school, backward through the snow, with bare feet.  The stock phrase to use at this point is that “Kids these days have no idea how lucky they are,” with the rejoinder that not only did we experience deprivation, but school days were much longer; we started lessons at 6am, had no lunch break, and left school at 6pm before cleaning 15 chimneys on the way home to pay for the gruel that would be slopped into the enamel plates that also served as our bed pans.

We must pretend that we didn’t have a trouble free, safe and carefree environment in which to live, where the greatest concern was whether the sun would continue to shine when the holidays ended, and we’d have to suffer in a hot classroom.  Of course, if we complained about that, or inadvertently removed a fingernail using the belt sander during Woodwork, there was the danger that our teachers would take a bamboo cane to our hides, but we’ll suggest it toughened us up.

It’s not the same for kids these days.  Some would argue that their biggest concern is having to keep abreast of the latest acronym, but, WTF, is it really?  In my day, we knew our place, which although most of us didn’t know it at the time, was to grow up and not challenge the status quo, because life was pretty good.  So, it has come as something of a surprise to the GOM generation to acknowledge that we have been, and continue to be, a bunch of tossers by maintaining the belief that we should keep things as they were, because things were so much better way back when.

I mean, really, what do kids these days know?  What could Malala Yousafzai possibly teach us with her advocacy for girls’ education and women's equality?  Subjects that were so threatening and challenging to the Taliban regime’s oppression and misogyny, that they would choose to shoot the 15-year-old Malala?  Clearly, she’d have been much better off keeping her mouth shut to human rights abuses and be much safer by ignoring the 130 million girls out of school today or the injustice faced my millions of women around the world.  It might not have got her shot.

And whilst we’re on the subject of shooting, what do the children of Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School know about gun violence?   Seventeen of their peers were gunned down in an unprovoked attack by a former student, earning the “Thoughts and Prayers” refrain from mostly GOM politicians.  Why, when we live in a society that enables a 19-year-old to legally purchase a semi-automatic rifle, would we want to sit up and listen to the students and the 1.2 million they inspired with the March For Our Lives (MFOL) movement, rather than the NRA who espouse gun ownership as a means to make society safer and their advocates wealthier?

Back in Britain, why should we bother trying to find a solution to the US gun-crime epidemic?  After all, our kids aren’t wielding guns – they’re too busy carrying knives in increasing numbers in their misguided attempts to keep themselves safe; often becoming victims of knife crime when the very weapon they’re holding is used against them.  On Thursday, the BBC reported that there were 732 killings involving knives in 2018, up 12% from the year before, with 20% of knife crime perpetrators under the age of 18.  As well intentioned and intelligent adults, our political elite have been spectacularly unsuccessful in developing a solution to the problem.  Maybe we should ask the kids.

Alternatively, the youth of today should perhaps find something better to do, like go to university, a place that was largely free to the GOMs of today and which is still affordable to anyone willing to take on the mantle of £15,000 per annum of debt that grows at a rate of 6% per annum from the day they begin their studies and which they will be saddled with for only the first 30 years after they graduate, as they futilely try to repay the average loan of £50,000 they rack up during their Bachelors degree.

Of course, that assumes that they’re from a background where they have that opportunity, where they have parents that actively encourage them to further their education rather than parents who are spending their time queuing for one of the 1.6 million emergency food parcels that were given out across the Trussell Trust’s UK food bank network last year – nearly a third of which went to children.  How fortunate we are that, here in the UK, we have such a great social security system; without it, think how much greater the 19% increase in annual food aid distribution would have been.  What’s even more troubling is that those numbers largely exclude the meals served from volunteer soup kitchens to the nearly 5,000 people that sleep rough every night in the UK.

A lot of GOMs attribute the surge in homelessness to a breakdown in the societal values that they hold so dearly and are quick to decry the absence of moral values in teenagers today.  I did a Google search using “moral values of teenagers”.  The first page of search results provided plenty of material evidencing the decline of ethical standards in our youth and other articles exercised the literary equivalent of hand-ringing at the deplorable sense of right and wrong that teenagers demonstrate.  It wasn’t until I got to the second page of results that I found an article from the Irish Times that, to my mind, pointed to the underlying cause – us!

“… teenagers are influenced by the double standards that are widely accepted in our society. If a child's parents do not respect or blatantly reject traditional moral values, the child is likely to do the same.”

Perhaps we should exercise a little less outrage and adopt a shade more support for the actions of children such as Greta Thunberg, who displays higher values and moral courage than most with the 'School strike for climate' movement that she inspired.  Not enough of us are hearing or acting on what she and others are telling us and that’s not just the climate change sceptics.  She’s calling upon all of us to fulfil an obligation to leave our environment in a fit(ter) state for future generations.

Sure, we can point to the good old days when life was better than it is today, but we cannot do so without taking a significant degree of responsibility for the parlous state in which we find our society and environment.  It doesn’t make me particularly proud to be a member of the GOM tribe.  We’ve manufactured a crisis and stewarded closeted communities of which we should be ashamed.

When we try to tell our kids how great things were or how good they have things, we should remember that they’re going to be the first generation in the industrial world that will be worse off than their parents; that the legacy we’re leaving them is a pile of shite and that perhaps, when they tell us to STFU because we’ve messed up their lives, we should acknowledge that they may just have a point.

Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019
27 April 2019

Where are you from?

At 6.45am each weekday morning, Mrs GOM and I find ourselves in the sports hall at a local secondary school attending a Dawn Breakers HIIT* class.  It’s my attempt to keep in some form of shape.  Unfortunately, that shape is usually bent double, gasping for breath and trying not to lose the previous night’s supper, but nevertheless, it’s a great way to start each day and has benefitted me hugely (although my Chiropractor would likely disagree).

Not only does the class serve to improve my fitness, but it’s an excellent way to meet others and there is a great sense of community amongst the group that I attend.  We come from an array of backgrounds and we’re all different ages, shapes and sizes – united by the common goal of improving our health.  We complete a six-week programme that sees us having our photos taken on the first day of the course, for comparison with photos from the mid- and end-points.  As we lined up to have the first day’s photo taken, I found myself behind the newest member of the group, Joni, and introduced myself and Mrs GOM.  After a short exchange, Joni asked where I was from.

  “Oh, we’re local,” I said.  “About three streets up the road from here.”

Adopting a look that suggested she was dealing with a simpleton, Joni tried again.

  “But, I thought I heard a New Zealand accent.”

Huge kudos to Joni for a) rephrasing the question so that I’d understand it, and b) correctly detecting the provenance of my dulcet tones.  I mumbled some absurd justification for misunderstanding the question; about having lived here for nearly 30 years and that my accent had softened.  What I realised immediately though, was that it was the first time I had been asked that question and responded as though I was a local, rather than the immigrant that I am.

I have always identified as a New Zealander and I always will.  It’s a heritage of which I’m proud.  I come from a beautiful country where people are largely open, friendly and welcoming.  I only left for a three-month holiday in 1990 and fully expected to return; circumstances and choices meant I did not.  Equally, and with all those years under my belt, I also identify as a Brit, and now, as Joni can attest, call England home.  I was made to feel welcome here when I arrived and continue to feel a part of the wider community.  I suspect that may have a lot to do with being an English speaking, white, middle-class, male, so my integration into society was without the challenges that other ethnic and social groups face.

We can do so much to make others more comfortable and feel a part of our communities.  When I was 10, my family was invited to a wedding by the owner of our corner store, an Indian immigrant.  His daughter was getting married and the wedding was a grand affair, held at the Lower Hutt Town Hall and there were hundreds of guests.  Dressed trestle tables were lined along one wall of the hall, groaning with food.  As we were queueing with the other guests for the wedding feast, the bride’s father came to us and took my mother by the arm.

  “Not those tables Mother of GOM.  These ones,” he said, escorting her and the rest of us to another part of the room.  “I think you might prefer the cold buffet,” he said.

On the row of tables before us stood steaming curries, samosas, rice and other Indian delicacies.  My mother, noting that he’d said ‘cold buffet’ questioned the presence of the hot food.

  “This table’s for you whiteys,” he said with an absence of malice and a cheeky grin.  “They’ve gone easy on the spices.”

The gesture was unexpected and hugely considerate.  His arrangements had led to adjustments to the traditional Indian fare, to make it more agreeable to the palates of those unaccustomed to spicy foods.

  “Perhaps for the children,” my mother responded somewhat magnanimously.  “We’re thrilled to be invited, and I would rather share what you are having.”  Our guest lost his smile and concern etched his face.

  “Really?” he said.  “It may be a little hotter than you’re used to.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” my mother assured him.

It was not.  I was dispatched to find her the iced water.

Our host saw that my mother’s attempt to enjoy the full experience had left her somewhat flushed and he brought her a lassi, a sweet yoghurt drink.  “This will help,” he said, handing it to her and she accepted it gratefully.

With over 400 guests to consider, our host was particularly attentive to us, to ensure that we felt comfortable.

Despite his best efforts though, he couldn’t cater to the will of a bored and stubborn 10-year-old.  I had decided that hunger was the preferred alternative to the exotic spread before me and failed to take the opportunity to indulge in what I now know to be delicious cuisine.  I leveraged my age, pleaded boredom and was allowed to head to my Grandmother’s who lived nearby, where I had one of her delicious white bread, single-slice-of-ham sandwiches and a pickled onion.

Mr Patel and his family had welcomed us into their community, and we were blessed to experience a part of their culture and feel the warmth of their generosity.  My mother’s attempt to fully embrace the experience, whilst misguided from a culinary perspective, demonstrated a willingness to accept difference.  The wedding serves to highlight that we are richer as a community by engaging with other cultures when the opportunity presents itself – we get to see a different side of life, which can be enriching.  What it also shows is that we are not compelled to adopt the culture (just as surely as I didn’t in my partiality to Nana’s ham sandwich), but if we do, we may expand what we like and enjoy, as the plethora of Indian restaurants in this country will evidence.  We are still very much permitted to continue our own practices, but we can be open to difference.  Whilst at it, why not invite others to experience ours, without having an expectation that they will adopt our way of life?

We have more to gain and very little to lose by accepting others, no matter their background or status.  In the main, immigrants contribute positively to the economic fortunes of their adopted countries and if ever you need to find an argument to support that case, I present as my first witness, the United States of America.

We lived in the US for a couple of years and had the chance to meet a wide variety of people.  What was telling was how many of them described their ethnicity by prefixing their nationality with that of their ancestors, “I’m Italian-American, I’m Irish-American, I’m Polish-American.”  I’ve yet to hear anyone say, “I’m American-American”, although that would not be a bad thing, but you get the picture; so many of them identify with their immigrant past.  Even the current President, who some might term the “racist-in-chief”, is of immigrant stock.  Mary Anne McLeod Trump had Gaelic as her first language and hailed from the Outer Hebrides.  Curiously, Wikipedia suggests that she “was the mother of Donald Trump”; presumably she disowned him.

But I digress…  Wherever we go, be it to another country or community, we will meet and face others who have the capacity to welcome or not.  When faced with the former, we have the choice to accept or spurn the invitation.  Like my mother, my preference is to accept with grace; there’s usually the equivalent of tea and biscuits that comes with it, and now that I’m working out regularly, I can wander ‘off-plan’ and indulge a little.

But when we’re faced with the opposite, when the welcome is absent, and you’re greeted with disdain, hostility or worse, the choices are very much more difficult – do we tolerate or fight what we experience?  It’s a decision I am fortunate not to have faced and, I hope, it’s not a choice I have ever caused others to make.  What I need to do more of though, is support others that do have to make the choice, to stand up and be heard when I witness that failure to welcome.  I’m ashamed to admit it, but frankly, I find that a terrifying prospect even though I’ve got the benefit of a privileged background.  If there’s a part of the body that the HIIT class can’t help with, it’s the moral backbone.  It’s something that I need to strengthen, to become more of an advocate for others that could use a hand.

We improve whenever we do something regularly and consistently.  Just as regular exercise serves to improve health and strengthen the body, it is the same for developing moral courage.  We should extend ourselves by leaving our comfort zones, by calling out when we hear a slight, by supporting those that deserve better, and as we do, we make wherever we choose to call home a much better place for all of us to live.

Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019
18 April 2019

* High intensity interval training

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Anne_MacLeod_Trump