Why I Like Folk Against Fascism

I've written before about the cheeky British National Party who tried to hijack English traditional music and hitch it to their political bandwagon. What was cheeky was that on their website they sold CDs of English folk music thereby linking by association the artists with their political agenda. Hardly surprising then that some of these artists took umbrage and formed Folk Against Fascism.

I'd have been pretty miffed myself had they used any of my creative output on their site - hardly likely, I know, I don't have the appeal of people like John Boden, one of the founding artists of the campaign whose music was used as part of one of the party's muddle-headed arguments. The BNP make a quantum leap between the building of new mosques and the destruction of an English heritage - a heritage when pushed, they can barely define, I don't see a queue of Doc Marten'd skinheads queuing up outside the Cross Keys Inn at Uppermill eager to join the Saddleworth Morris in defence of this English culture they seem so eager to protect.

The odd thing is that the BNP seem to ignore the swathe of folk songs that rail against exactly the type of thing they promote, I wonder if they'll be selling any of the famous protest songs that campaign for equality and freedom, I do hope so.

I'm not always an advocate of campaign groups, I prefer subtler methods of winning an argument, but the nature of much of the BNP's highly efficient propoganda machine is insidious and pervasive, which to my mind needs people to take a visible stand. So this is mine:

I SUPPORT FOLK AGAINST FASCISM!

Mind you, if you ask around our office admitting you like folk music is possibly lower down the scale of embarrasing revelations than actually being a member of the BNP, so there you go.

One of the clever things artists supporting Folk Against Fascism are doing is to put the FAF logo on their CDs, a neat way of either putting the BNP off selling their discs in the first place or a good way of having the BNP promote Folk Against Fascism - either way's good. Mind you, I'll bet the FAF people haven't reckoned with the risk of the BNP recruiting a team of skinheads with felt pens who might colour out the logo before CDs are sent out.

Have a look at the FAF site there's loads of great photos, resources and details of artist who are supporting the campaign.
Anyway have a look at the website - there's even some music

Watch Out For These Subtle But Nasty EMails

Have you had one of these chain emails? I've had two very similar ones that I've taken to replying to all the people in the chain. First here's the e-mail:

Hi Everyone. This e-mail was sent to me by Jeans auntie Mary, as well as the caption below. But it really is true!!

WELL LETS FACE IT I HAVE TO AGREE

An incident occurred in an English supermarket recently, when the followingwas witnessed:A Muslim woman dressed in a Burkha (A black gown & face mask) was standingwith her shopping in a queue at the checkout .When it was her turn to be served, and as she reached the cashier, she made a loud remark about the English Flag lapel pin, which the female cashier was wearing on her blouse

.The cashier reached up and touched the pin and said, "Yes, I always wear it proudly. My son serves abroad with the forces and I wear it for him".

The Muslim woman then asked the cashier when she was going to stop bombingand killing her countrymen, explaining that she was Iraqi.At that point, a Gentleman standing in the queue stepped forward, andinterrupted with a calm and gentle voice, and said to the Iraqi woman:"Excuse me, but hundreds of thousands of men and women, just like this lady' son have fought and sacrificed their lives so that people just like YOU can stand here, in England , which is MY country and allow you to blatantly accuse an innocent check-out cashier of bombing YOUR countrymen.It is my belief that if you were allowed to be as outspoken as that in Iraq ,which you claim to be YOUR country, then we wouldn't need to be fighting there today... However - now that you have learned how to speak out and criticise the English people who have afforded you the protection of MY country, I will gladly pay the cost of a ticket to help you pay your way back to Iraq .When you get there, and if you manage to survive for being as outspoken as what you are here in England , then you should be able to help straighten outthe mess which YOUR Iraqi countrymen have got you into in the first place,which appears to be the reason that you have come to MY country to avoid."Apparently the queue cheered and applauded

.IF YOU AGREE... Pass this on to all of your proud friends..I just did...............!!!

Here is my reply:

Sorry if you think I've spammed you with this reply, but..

For ages I couldn't work out what bothered me about this account of an Englishman's defence of liberty and support for our boys in the Force .

It is the second similar email I've had where a fair minded Englishman has the opportunity to defend, in reasonable tones, our reasonable English nature against outspoken Islamic fundamentalist.

The tone, style and vocabulary in each are very similar, and each has the same earnest common sense appeal to reason - after all who wouldn't defend the right of a mother to support their sons out there risking their lives?

But then I spotted subtle way in which my attention was being directed. For example we are encouraged to consider the potential loss of the soldiers' lives - rightly abhorrent - and to view the Iraqi woman's stance as ingratitude.

What we are not encouraged to consider is the -Iraqi woman's story - the possible losses or experiences, for example, that may have brought her to this point.

Worse though is the way the author pits two visible symbols - the cross of St George and the woman's traditional dress - against each other, forcing us to view one in the context of moderate patriotism and the other as strident radicalism.

This is not the casual account of supermarket conversation, but a well crafted attempt to influence the reader.

Don't let this increasingly common tactic slip beneath your intellectual radar. Give these things a thorough assessment before endorsing them and propagating them

Posted via email from stevencroft's posterous

Least Successful 'Talk Like A Pirate' Conversation

Today was International Talk Like A Pirate Day a day of fun when we all, well, talk in the style of our favourite Corsair or vagabond of the high seas. I entered into the spirit of the thing with gusto and tried to assimilate my briny chat into our usual Saturday tasks:

Scene: Sainsburys Supermarket, Oldham

Crofty: Avast scurvy wench and have at ye shopping vessel yonder

Mrs C: ?

Crofty: Let us board and keel haul this provisioning craft for our very own use in yonder victuallers yard

Mrs C: If you think I'm going to walk round Sainsburys with talking like a prat you've got another think coming

Crofty: Hmmm, do you know why pirates are called pirates?

Mrs C: Go on amaze me...

Crofty: Because they ARRRRRRRRRRR

Mrs C: Last chance...

Crofty: Sorry, I'll clap meself in irons and walk the plank to Davey Jones locker below

Sound of hand striking bare flesh
Crofty: Ouch

Mrs C: What's that?

Crofty: What?

Mrs C: That, hanging from your ear..

Crofty: Oh, errr, nothing (attempts to turn his head away)

Mrs C: Come here, let me see... you're wearing an earring...

Crofty: No it's err, Avast There!..., ooops, that just slipped out, ouch!

Mrs C: You're forty six years old, you look ridiculous, you had that ear pierced when you were seventeen and a punk, not when you were forty odd and a prat!

Crofty: That's Pirate, P-I-R-A-T-E Oh, err, ARRRRRRRR....sorry....ouch!

Mrs C: Anyway, isn't that one of my earrings?

Crofty: Errr, weren't they the special bargain pair?

Mrs C: How do you mean

Crofty: Weren't they the two dollar earrings?

Mrs C: Two dollars, what are you on about?

Crofty: You know, one dollar for each ear, a Buck an Ear....gettit?... Buccaneer! ....Ouch, Ow, Ouch, Sorry, I couldn't help it

Mrs C: And you can take that bottle of rum out of the trolley too...

Crofty: ...That's grog (ducks just in time)

Mrs C: (Catches eye of equally long suffering wife of middle aged man, each tuts and raises eyebrows)
Honestly, they get to forty and start regresssing

Scurvy Wench, Sorry Woman 1: I know, I sometimes think the ones who get a tattoo and motorbike are easier

Mrs C: I wouldn't mind if he looked like Johnny Depp

Woman 1: I know (both sigh wistfully)

Fade to (pirate) black

The Defence of Old England

There has been much hand wringing about the English Defence League and their cack-handed attempts to defend an English cultural heritage that is deemed, somehow, to be at risk. I do think though, we are getting ourselves in a lather in the wrong place.

From what I've seen the EDL are merely the latest manifestation of an English culture that likes a bellyfull of beer, maybe a football match, but definitely a good old scrap. All of this, by and large, comes along loosely packaged with some woolly thinking on the right-wing political side of things. And of course the right wing extremists are only too glad to have foot soldiers eager to hitch their cart to a horse that guarantees them a bit of a ruck.

Add into the mix groups of young men who feel their way of life really is being undermined and their freedom to worship in a particular way threatened, and you have a cocktail that is bound to have a bit of a kick to it. But I don't think we should be too worried - like many cultural clashes, the reality is far more complex than something that can be sorted out with bricks, stones and fists.

First of all let's look at the culture the EDL are trying to defend.They talk about the 'islamification' of England, claiming that mosques in our towns are eroding our predominantly Christian culture. So where are the EDL when the dust has settled? Certainly not joining forces with local Christian communities to raise a new church hall; because that all-English christian culture simply isn't there.

So where do you go to find what English culture is really like in 2009?

Our parents were of the generation that still mistrusted immigrant communities in the UK, and my generation was raised hearing phrases that spoke of 'them', but as time passed 'they' became real people as second generation immigrants were educated and entered the work place. Where communities remained isolated it was, by and large, poorer communities with higher numbers of people out of work - this is true of both predominantly white and non-white communities.

In work we share the common goals of whichever organisation we work for and in the process learn how our varying cultures and faiths are worked out in practice during our daily lives. We don't often fall out over things, we are just different - but the thing is we aren't that different. We moan together about prices, we compare notes on the successes and failings of our children and we sometimes share recipes as we compare our lunches. Then on Friday some of us go to the mosque, or on Sunday to church - or maybe neither. Most of us socialise at the weekend, see family or play sport, then on Monday morning we compare our weekends together.

Work acts as a multi-cultural catalyst - we have the culture of our organisation to share and hold in common whilst retaining our own cultural differences and comparing with each other how they affect our shared work culture.

Maybe I'm painting too rosy a picture of multiculturalism - the point is for many of us that multiculturalism isn't a threatening idea or socialogical concept thrust upon us by well meaning politicians. keen on community cohesion, it is the natural result of being together. I accept that maybe people like me are an exception: at ease among others, eager to share and meet new people.

Where that sharing does take place, whether in work, school, university or elsewhere we don't generally fight over our differences; we grow and share, building a new culture that still retains the bits we are proud of from the old one, but also collecting and adding other bits - new words and new food, for example, but still retaining the essential values and spirit that are the true heart of England. The true values of our country are the same whether you go to Mosque, Temple Synagogue or Chapel.

I do worry that with fewer people working at the moment, there are not the opportunities for natural cultural sharing, and I accept that economic deprivation and disaffection among workless young people makes a breeding ground for extremists of any sort. But that is not the same thing as this cultural erosion that the EDL are so worried about.

I also wonder where people for whom social sharing is not natural and easy, can learn and experience other's culture. I don't see much of that going on on Facebook for example - these so called social networking sites seem generally little more that a gossip shop for pre-existing friends or way of passing time with trivial games. I don't see many cultural boundaries being stretched in the same way that natural social exchange in the workplace does.

So what of the future?

My instinct and experience is that we have far more to gain by sharing culture we are proud of and comparing and contrasting it with others' culture. History is littered with examples to demonstrate the benefit; and history is also cratered with examples where cultural difference has been allowed to develop into fighting.

So for my part I'll carry on encouraging people to share and I hope you do too. If there are waggons being hitched to horses, you'll find me sat in the one with people sharing their food, their music and their culture during the journey.

(By the way, you've probably guessed that I chose the image of British miners because once they are covered in coal dust you can barely tell what colour they are. The irony is that, browsing for a suitable image, I found it a web site supporting the BNP - I'll not dignify them with a link.)

More Northern Cultural Experience - Does Karaoke Replace The Singalong?

We visited the Isle of Skye in May and happened across a harbour front pub, The Pier Hotel, a real seafaring fisherman's pub overlooking Portree harbour. The clientèle still wore their fishy working clothes and in the corner a duo, two men in their seventies, played fiddle and accordian, both great musicians whipping up a storm with tunes everyone knew and loved. The heaving throng joined in with the slower wistful Scottish ballads and whooped to the faster dance tunes, jigging in the tight packed space. This was one of those holiday highlights where you feel you've got to the heart of a community and experienced something authentic of their culture.

Back in Oldham I reflected on how once again the Northern mill towns had been deprived of any kind of culture with a heritage going back centuries - no Robbie Burns for us. Our forebears migrated from the country for work brought by the booming cotton economy. They sacrificed their various cultures for an all new mill based community, based on leisure activities graciously provided by mill owners - the working mens' clubs and brass bands, for example.

My grandparents loved a sing-along at church social functions, where they sang songs of the musical hall or war time ditties. Then in the seventies they taught us, their grandchildren the words of the old songs and told us that these new loud songs would never catch on - "you won't be singing them round the piano in twenty years time" they used to tell us.

And they were right weren't they?

On Saturday we had a night out in a pub with a bit of a dubious reputation in Oldham - the sort of place you can be sure of a fight with your pint - there was a karaoke night. Mrs C and I joined a rowdy group of her colleagues for, rumour had it, was one of the best nights out around.

The start did not auger well, the place was shabby and the red faced hardened drinkers looked like they'd been in since they'd left work some considerable time before. Then the place filled up and by 10.30h was buzzing with young people and old, most of them knew each other, some had uncles, aunts and parents in the pub too.

The karaoke was indeed great fun with singers falling into two distinct camps: the wannabe diva and the drink addled trier. I preferred the triers, the ones who took on a challenge and failed to meet it, the ones where you heard the first bars of the song and said, "OMG he's not trying that one is he?!"

My favourite was Bert, dressed in what looked like the sweater he had for Christmas, in 1990, bright red face, legs that refused to keep him in one position for long; Bert belted out Robbie Williams' Angels with all the big-stage enthusiasm of Robbie himself, only three bars behind the rest of the song (that's Bert pictured above).

The thing was, nobody cared because we were all joining in with Bert, or with Terry who slaughtered Oasis's Wonderwall this was our community singing: tunes we all knew and loved that resonated with us. They might not have had a heritage traceable back through the annals of time but this was a culture in the making - I think my Gran would have been proud, even if she couldn't have said so for having to eat her words.