NOTE: Trigger warning on this post and the links.
A few weeks ago, there was a superb Panorama program on the BBC looking
at the prevalence of middle-age, male suicide. On the back of that, I
have read the Samaritans men, suicide and society report, which makes for quite difficult reading. That is the reason it has taken me so long to put this posting together, as the report is quite long and hard going.
I would warn people that the program and the report are very difficult to read and watch, and are not recommended for those who might find them upsetting.
The starting point was that the incidence of suicide among middle-age men shown a notable peak. Where most other groups have shown a decline, this group hasn't and is either bucking the general downward trend, or moving upwards. There is a problem with this demographic, and this program and report try to address the reasons behind this. I will attempt to provide some summary of these - although summarising 130 pages of report into one post is not simple! Which is one reason that this is such a long post.
The core reason identified was a problem with men losing their grasp on what it meant to be a man, a crisis in terms of their masculinity. This can come in a range of ways, and it is likely that multiple challenges occur at once. And masculinity is in crisis, not that this is necessarily a bad thing (or necessarily a good thing), but it is does have an impact on people.
One of the significant challenges is when men lose their jobs. In fact, this is probably the major factor in a masculinity crisis. Men still have a sense that in working, they do what they are expected to do, what they are supposed to do. However much we talk about the importance of people irrespective of their employment status, there are still many - of any gender, but especially males - for whom they see their definition in terms of their work. As a society we still define people by their work position and status. While "housewife" or "full-time mother" are perfectly valid and acceptable, "house-husband" and "full-time dad" are not so acceptable. Men who do not have an acceptable work title can feel like they are less than true men, that their masculinity is compromised.
A related aspect is that work in the UK - and the west as a whole - has changed over the last 50 years or so. Many of the more manual, physical typically male jobs has diminished - something that Mrs Thatcher can take some significant blame for. What this means is that, for some, the loss of a physical job can mean that they have to take an office job, or a "soft" job, something that they feel is less manly. Once again, this can lead to a sense of loss of manhood of masculinity. For men in middle age, they are unlikely to achieve a role that has anything that they can feel redeems their sense of self-worth. It is more likely to be a menial job - one that is probably demeaning whoever does it, but for someone trying to find purpose and meaning through their work, this is even worse.
I should point out that this perception is not necessarily true - their friends and family do not necessarily feel that they are "less of a man". That is not relevant in this case, because it is the potential suicides perception of their role, their position, rather that the truth. What the report makes clear is that perception is of primary importance, because it is the perception of an individual about their situation that may drive them to a suicidal act. Suicidal behaviour is driven by feelings and beliefs, not by objective truth.
It is also worth saying that the changes in employment and in the entire job situation has been exacerbated in the last few years, under the Tory government. As unemployment increases, and as unemployment is increasingly stigmatised by the government, this makes the likelihood of middle-aged men taking their own lives higher. Although the precise cause-and-effect is hard to define, and there are plenty of counter-examples, government policies that stigmatise the unemployed while making satisfying work harder to get, will lead to more deaths.
There are also changes to the functions of child-rearing in the family over the last 50 years or so. What was once the preserve of women became something that was expected to be shared between both genders. And yet, when relationships break up, it is often the men who are separated from their children, and this becomes traumatic. Having made the efforts to open up, show emotion, become openly emotionally attached to their children (something that seems obvious, but was not the case a number of years ago), they are suddenly torn away from this. The sense of loss, of failure, can be serious. This is especially true when combined with a perceived failure to fulfil the other fatherly expectation of earning the money to keep them. The inability to be a father in any more than the genetic sense can be very disheartening.
There is another related aspect here, that of the break up of relationships - something that is far more prevalent today than it has been. At a time when men might be very focussed on work, and would have expected to be supported at home, they find that this support is not there. Middle age is when many men find that work challenges are at their highest, often because they are pushing to get their final promotion, the final role in their working life, which is probably the hardest to get. It may be that the children are growing up and they are looking forward - either positively or negatively - to them not being at home any more. It is often a time when they realise that work will not provide everything in their lives, and so they are looking for something more out of life - and so to have what is for many their only non-work contact removed can be devastating.
The other side of this problem is that men deal with problems, stress, depression, suicidal thoughts and anything else in different ways to women (and those currently in middle age deal with things differently to the younger men). This part is rather more personal, because I do recognise most of this myself.
Firstly, we don't talk very well. Talking therapies - which are the mainstay of support and assistance for many people suffering disillusionment about life. Talking does not necessarily mean formal counselling - the report makes it clear that many women will talk about their problems in informal ways as well. Younger people are also better at talking. The particular group looked at do not have this outlet. What is more, men are generally better at hiding their feelings (and at not reading or seeing the real state of other people), meaning that sometimes men will take their own lives while even those closest to them were sure there was nothing wrong. Even when pressed, men are often dismissive of their own feelings and thoughts. Talking, in some form, is often the first step toward acknowledging the problems people are facing, and finding ways around them. Men are notoriously bad at going to doctors for "trivial matters", which is another place that problems can be identified early. So many of the early ways to identify problems are not ones that men take, and so early identification is lost - one suspects that this early identification, however precisely it occurs, saves many lives.
The second issue is that men often self-medicate. This can be with alcohol, work, activity, all sorts of things. By medicating ourselves, by actions that numb the pain, this serves to delay the crisis, rather than make an actual difference. Also, we have a tendency to keep our feelings in, not talk about them, but bury them. The result is that, at some point, this is liable to explode. Some (often minor) issue serves as the trigger, which can lead to a crisis, and can push someone to suicide. This introvert approach to dealing with problems can lead to a crisis causing a suicide attempt. The self medication can also be thrill seeking, risk taking, and this does mean that men often use more serious methods for suicide attempts than women.
Finally, historically, I did wonder whether some of the changes in our society have caused this peak to "appear", rather than "grow". When more of this demographic worked in industrial roles, I wondered whether some of the "industrial accidents" were actually suicides. What has actually changed is that they are now being classified appropriately. This means that the problem is not actually a recent one, but something that has been recently identified against the significant reduction in other suicides.
Conclusions? mainly that this is a problem, and telling this demographic to "talk to someone" is not necessarily helpful. Being prepared to listen is important, and an understanding that just being there for people is sometimes so important. Some of lifes events, that are often blandly dismissed as being "unfortunate", can have, for some people, very significant impact. For many, it is some minor issue that finally breaks them. and the loneliness that is associated with this is tragic.
Saturday, 16 May 2015
Friday, 8 May 2015
The UK election result
The election result is in, and the Tories have won an absolute majority. This is abjectly depressing and I want to explain some of the reasons why. I should make it clear that this is NOT because "my party" didn't do well - actually, we didn't do badly, but one positive about supporting a smaller party is that we don't expect to win. I always wish we would get more, but we achieved an increased share and our sitting MP retained her seat (with an increased majority).
My first reaction - and the reaction I have still have is one of anger. I am angry that, as a nation we have returned one of the most oppressive, dismissive, anti-Christian and self-serving parties in my time. I am angry that the desperate cries of the poor, disabled and unemployed have not been heard. I am angry that so many people have, it would seem, are thinking of themselves and not others. I am angry that the politics of money have won over the politics of people - that we have put personal wealth over corporate health.
I am still angry. I will remain angry for a long time, but this is tempered by a deep sadness. I have of late been unemployed (for a short time), which is not because I am lazy, it is because the work I do comes and goes, and it is hard because we are in a recession time - a recession that has been caused by the policies of this government. The time I was looking for work was hard work - it is NOT easy finding a job, even for someone like me who has very marketable skills. For those who do not have my sort of skills, it must be even more difficult. I am deeply saddened that we now have a government who seems to hate the unemployed, and be determined to demonise them and oppress them as much as possible.
I am saddened that we have a government who have shown that they hate and loath the ill - they are determined to destroy the NHS, which is one of the best things about this country. As someone who is ill, and has children who have chronic illnesses, this is frightening. I can only assume that within a few years they will have to be working somewhere with private health insurance, because that will be the only way to get the care that they need.
When Ivan Cameron died, I did feel sorry for the Camerons. To have a child with Cerebral Palsy, and to know the prognosis, must be terrible. To finally lose him, must have been difficult. But that sympathy has evaporated, because David Camerons attitude to the chronically ill is so abusive and dismissive, I can only assume that he is actually glad that Ivan died and was not a burden to everyone, not being able to work or contribute to society*. He would never have been able to earn much money, so would, under the Cameron ideal, be worthless. The fact that he can abuse the poor and the ill so much, after what he has gone through makes me utterly sick at heart.
I am saddened that the poor will continue to be treated with contempt, that the bank balance will be considered the measure of a persons worth. It isn't, and it never will be. What sickens me most is that the idea of "trickle down" or that the super wealthy actually bring more money and wealth to the country as a whole is still being pushed. It doesn't work. Most of the very wealthy take their money and invest it abroad. They keep acquiring more and more of it, taking it from others, and most of them are "sensible" enough to keep it for themselves, investing it in a way that gives them more money, rather than supporting the country. I am saddened that David Cameron is so shallow that he cannot see the value of people more than this.
For now, I am angry. I will return to being angry. And I will cry for those who will not survive to the end of this term, because they will give up and take their own lives. I will cry for those who will suffer needlessly, who will be dismissed, and denigrated, just because they are on the wrong end of the capitalist dream. I hurt for all of those whose life will be worse under this government. In truth, this is all of us, because we are all lesser for this.
*I doubt that they actually feel like this. I accept that this is hyperbole. But why David cannot have sympathy with others, with what he has been through, makes me loathe him even more.
My first reaction - and the reaction I have still have is one of anger. I am angry that, as a nation we have returned one of the most oppressive, dismissive, anti-Christian and self-serving parties in my time. I am angry that the desperate cries of the poor, disabled and unemployed have not been heard. I am angry that so many people have, it would seem, are thinking of themselves and not others. I am angry that the politics of money have won over the politics of people - that we have put personal wealth over corporate health.
I am still angry. I will remain angry for a long time, but this is tempered by a deep sadness. I have of late been unemployed (for a short time), which is not because I am lazy, it is because the work I do comes and goes, and it is hard because we are in a recession time - a recession that has been caused by the policies of this government. The time I was looking for work was hard work - it is NOT easy finding a job, even for someone like me who has very marketable skills. For those who do not have my sort of skills, it must be even more difficult. I am deeply saddened that we now have a government who seems to hate the unemployed, and be determined to demonise them and oppress them as much as possible.
I am saddened that we have a government who have shown that they hate and loath the ill - they are determined to destroy the NHS, which is one of the best things about this country. As someone who is ill, and has children who have chronic illnesses, this is frightening. I can only assume that within a few years they will have to be working somewhere with private health insurance, because that will be the only way to get the care that they need.
When Ivan Cameron died, I did feel sorry for the Camerons. To have a child with Cerebral Palsy, and to know the prognosis, must be terrible. To finally lose him, must have been difficult. But that sympathy has evaporated, because David Camerons attitude to the chronically ill is so abusive and dismissive, I can only assume that he is actually glad that Ivan died and was not a burden to everyone, not being able to work or contribute to society*. He would never have been able to earn much money, so would, under the Cameron ideal, be worthless. The fact that he can abuse the poor and the ill so much, after what he has gone through makes me utterly sick at heart.
I am saddened that the poor will continue to be treated with contempt, that the bank balance will be considered the measure of a persons worth. It isn't, and it never will be. What sickens me most is that the idea of "trickle down" or that the super wealthy actually bring more money and wealth to the country as a whole is still being pushed. It doesn't work. Most of the very wealthy take their money and invest it abroad. They keep acquiring more and more of it, taking it from others, and most of them are "sensible" enough to keep it for themselves, investing it in a way that gives them more money, rather than supporting the country. I am saddened that David Cameron is so shallow that he cannot see the value of people more than this.
For now, I am angry. I will return to being angry. And I will cry for those who will not survive to the end of this term, because they will give up and take their own lives. I will cry for those who will suffer needlessly, who will be dismissed, and denigrated, just because they are on the wrong end of the capitalist dream. I hurt for all of those whose life will be worse under this government. In truth, this is all of us, because we are all lesser for this.
*I doubt that they actually feel like this. I accept that this is hyperbole. But why David cannot have sympathy with others, with what he has been through, makes me loathe him even more.
The end of democracy
There are some who will tell me that I cannot complain at the results of an election, because that is democracy. The problem is that this is not democracy. This is a broken and outdated voting system.
As a starting point, the turnout at the election was around 66% - not bad, but it means that just two thirds of the electorate bothered to vote. There must be all sort of reasons why this is the case, some of which may be valid, but a number do not vote because they don't believe it can make a difference. In some cases, this might be true - if the real choice is between two candidates both of whom are obnoxious, there is little real point. When there is no choice between any of the leading candidates, as is becoming more common, there seems little point in actually voting for any of them.
The Tories achieved 37% of the vote, and yet they have over 50% of the seats. Their vote share rose by 0.8%, but they obtained 24 extra seats. Whereas Labour, who had a 1.5% rise in vote share, lost 26 seats. That doesn't make a lot of sense.
Of course, they are not the only party who are disadvantaged under this system. The Greens obtained 3.8% of the vote - a tenth of what the Tories obtained - and yet only achieved 1 seat. And UKIP managed 12% of the vote, and only 1 seat. Much as I dislike UKIP, this does not seem reasonable. Plaid Cymru obtained 0.6% of the vote, and achieved 3 seats.
There is more. The SNP did remarkably well, but they only obtained 4.7 of the vote - a third that of UKIP - and this got them 56 seats. It was only 20% more than the Greens, but resulted in 56 times as many seats. The LibDems managed 7.9% of the vote share - approaching twice that of the SNP - but only have 8 seats.
The Tories now have an absolute majority, and will, undoubtedly at some point, claim they have a mandate for their policies. But they don't - they have the support of 37% of those who voted. Which, in itself, represents just 24% of the electorate. So they have the support of under a quarter of the electorate, and yet they are in absolute control. That doesn't sound like democracy to me. That sounds like the disenfranchisement of the majority of the electorate.
Of course, if we did have a system of voting that was more representative, people would vote differently. Even if they didn't, I would be complaining because UKIP would have some 77 seats, and the Greens only 24, but it would have been a better representation. It would have meant that my vote was involved and could have had influence in the government.
As it is, I feel profoundly frustrated that, once again, we have a result of a fundamentally and systematically broken system. What is worse, many of the 75% who did not support the Tories will be the ones who will suffer and die under this administration.
As a starting point, the turnout at the election was around 66% - not bad, but it means that just two thirds of the electorate bothered to vote. There must be all sort of reasons why this is the case, some of which may be valid, but a number do not vote because they don't believe it can make a difference. In some cases, this might be true - if the real choice is between two candidates both of whom are obnoxious, there is little real point. When there is no choice between any of the leading candidates, as is becoming more common, there seems little point in actually voting for any of them.
The Tories achieved 37% of the vote, and yet they have over 50% of the seats. Their vote share rose by 0.8%, but they obtained 24 extra seats. Whereas Labour, who had a 1.5% rise in vote share, lost 26 seats. That doesn't make a lot of sense.
Of course, they are not the only party who are disadvantaged under this system. The Greens obtained 3.8% of the vote - a tenth of what the Tories obtained - and yet only achieved 1 seat. And UKIP managed 12% of the vote, and only 1 seat. Much as I dislike UKIP, this does not seem reasonable. Plaid Cymru obtained 0.6% of the vote, and achieved 3 seats.
There is more. The SNP did remarkably well, but they only obtained 4.7 of the vote - a third that of UKIP - and this got them 56 seats. It was only 20% more than the Greens, but resulted in 56 times as many seats. The LibDems managed 7.9% of the vote share - approaching twice that of the SNP - but only have 8 seats.
The Tories now have an absolute majority, and will, undoubtedly at some point, claim they have a mandate for their policies. But they don't - they have the support of 37% of those who voted. Which, in itself, represents just 24% of the electorate. So they have the support of under a quarter of the electorate, and yet they are in absolute control. That doesn't sound like democracy to me. That sounds like the disenfranchisement of the majority of the electorate.
Of course, if we did have a system of voting that was more representative, people would vote differently. Even if they didn't, I would be complaining because UKIP would have some 77 seats, and the Greens only 24, but it would have been a better representation. It would have meant that my vote was involved and could have had influence in the government.
As it is, I feel profoundly frustrated that, once again, we have a result of a fundamentally and systematically broken system. What is worse, many of the 75% who did not support the Tories will be the ones who will suffer and die under this administration.
Saturday, 2 May 2015
The struggle to retain belief
In truth, one of the biggest problems since leaving church has been to maintain my belief in God.
The thing is, if I was still in church, I could happily let my belief wane - even to nothing - and continue the activity of church which might spark the flame again, but it might not actually matter, because I would have the outward show of piety to cover me. I say this simply because I know there are many people in churches who have lost all faith, but stay doing the activity in the hope that nobody will notice.
Without the security of the church activity, my faith seems a whole lot more vulnerable. I am not surrounded by people who believe - I am surrounded by ordinary people, most of whom don't believe. It means that letting my belief wane is so much easier, and yet, in a way, it makes the belief I have so much more important. Suddenly my belief is no longer just something that I believe as part of a group of others, something that is part of my social group. It is something I believe despite my social circles. It is something that is distinctive, and something that I have to maintain despite the opposition (sometimes) of others.
The thing is, something I have to constantly fight for like this seems to me so much more precious. The faith I have - faith in the sense of a whole belief structure - is much more precious because it is not a given. It is something learned, grown, developed and matured. Now obviously, some of the edges do get knocked off. The faith I have now is different from the faith I used to have, but now it is something that I believe and that I work to support.
Of course there is always the possibility that I will find that my faith will wither or die. And there is always the possibility that it will flourish in ways that it could never in the confines of a church. It is risky, difficult and involves work, which is something that a faith-risk-averse church hates.
And that is, to me, the crux of the matter. The church likes un-risky faith, safe professions of belief. While I stayed in the church, my professions of faith had to be safe, risk-free. Outside, my faith, my belief, is permanently full of risk. In either case, there is a lot of work to do - to keep an acceptable faith profession, or to actually maintain my faith, my belief in God.
If I am going to work at my faith, I would rather the latter. A risky faith is far better, far more exciting, because it is what I believe. Risky faith does not mean a faith that makes you take risks. A truly risky faith means a faith that risks itself. So few people are willing to take that sort of risk.
The thing is, if I was still in church, I could happily let my belief wane - even to nothing - and continue the activity of church which might spark the flame again, but it might not actually matter, because I would have the outward show of piety to cover me. I say this simply because I know there are many people in churches who have lost all faith, but stay doing the activity in the hope that nobody will notice.
Without the security of the church activity, my faith seems a whole lot more vulnerable. I am not surrounded by people who believe - I am surrounded by ordinary people, most of whom don't believe. It means that letting my belief wane is so much easier, and yet, in a way, it makes the belief I have so much more important. Suddenly my belief is no longer just something that I believe as part of a group of others, something that is part of my social group. It is something I believe despite my social circles. It is something that is distinctive, and something that I have to maintain despite the opposition (sometimes) of others.
The thing is, something I have to constantly fight for like this seems to me so much more precious. The faith I have - faith in the sense of a whole belief structure - is much more precious because it is not a given. It is something learned, grown, developed and matured. Now obviously, some of the edges do get knocked off. The faith I have now is different from the faith I used to have, but now it is something that I believe and that I work to support.
Of course there is always the possibility that I will find that my faith will wither or die. And there is always the possibility that it will flourish in ways that it could never in the confines of a church. It is risky, difficult and involves work, which is something that a faith-risk-averse church hates.
And that is, to me, the crux of the matter. The church likes un-risky faith, safe professions of belief. While I stayed in the church, my professions of faith had to be safe, risk-free. Outside, my faith, my belief, is permanently full of risk. In either case, there is a lot of work to do - to keep an acceptable faith profession, or to actually maintain my faith, my belief in God.
If I am going to work at my faith, I would rather the latter. A risky faith is far better, far more exciting, because it is what I believe. Risky faith does not mean a faith that makes you take risks. A truly risky faith means a faith that risks itself. So few people are willing to take that sort of risk.
Saturday, 25 April 2015
A student and a tutor
An attractive female student went to see her tutor about a course she was struggling with. She knocked on the door, and he answered.
"Dr Smith, I really need to pass your course, and I would do anything ..... anything whatsoever ...... to pass."
Now you probably think you know where this is going. Of course I am going somewhere different.
Dr Smith looked at her, noted that Lucy was both attractive and moderately intelligent, but who had been enjoying university life rather too much, and not doing as well as she should have been in her course work.
"Lucy," he said. "I have 4 pieces of advice for you. Firstly, never offer anything unless you know precisely what it is that you are offering. Secondly, most things in life that you work for are better than those handed to you on a plate. And thirdly, don't be a cliche. Now get out."
She left his office quickly, and was almost at the coffee shop when she realised that he hadn't made sense. She was just about to return and ask him about it, when the answer hit her - she was reasonably clever after all. As she realised, she got a coffee from the shop, and returned to her room to study.
I am sure that you understand this, seeing as all those who read my blog are wise and intelligent people, but I have to explain it because I want to make a point.
The core point that Lucy realised is that Dr Smith had only made 3 points explicitly, despite offering 4 pieces of advice. Of course, this was the 4th piece - that people sometimes lie, that you cannot always trust people. So what did this mean in the context? Well, he could have taken advantage of her - or, considering his first piece of advice, insisted she do something highly publicly humiliating - and then not given her the pass she asked for. That was a lesson in itself, but there was more.
The comment about the cliche was a reference to the response you might have expected. It was a pointer to say that the thing she needed to do was actually work. The point is that if he had simply told her this, she would probably have dismissed it, but because she had to work it through, because she had to work to find the answer, she understood it better. That was the real message he wanted to teach her, and she learnt it because she had to work a little bit to get there.
Of course, the story is just made up. We all know that tutors are not that perceptive, and students don't get these sorts of lessons so quickly. Or something. But the point is there - people learn more by doing than by being taught.
I am tempted here to give some examples of how this applies, but I am sure you can all find better examples, more appropriate ones. I am not dismissing book-learning, but I am suggesting that simply reading things in books is not "learning". learning is something you only get if you work for it, fight for it, struggle to get it, understand because you have engaged with it. I am currently working for my advanced driving test, and I realise that many of the things I have learnt in some 30 years of driving have been learnt the hard way. But it means that I am now a better driver, having learnt not from someone teaching me, but from my own experience.
"Dr Smith, I really need to pass your course, and I would do anything ..... anything whatsoever ...... to pass."
Now you probably think you know where this is going. Of course I am going somewhere different.
Dr Smith looked at her, noted that Lucy was both attractive and moderately intelligent, but who had been enjoying university life rather too much, and not doing as well as she should have been in her course work.
"Lucy," he said. "I have 4 pieces of advice for you. Firstly, never offer anything unless you know precisely what it is that you are offering. Secondly, most things in life that you work for are better than those handed to you on a plate. And thirdly, don't be a cliche. Now get out."
She left his office quickly, and was almost at the coffee shop when she realised that he hadn't made sense. She was just about to return and ask him about it, when the answer hit her - she was reasonably clever after all. As she realised, she got a coffee from the shop, and returned to her room to study.
I am sure that you understand this, seeing as all those who read my blog are wise and intelligent people, but I have to explain it because I want to make a point.
The core point that Lucy realised is that Dr Smith had only made 3 points explicitly, despite offering 4 pieces of advice. Of course, this was the 4th piece - that people sometimes lie, that you cannot always trust people. So what did this mean in the context? Well, he could have taken advantage of her - or, considering his first piece of advice, insisted she do something highly publicly humiliating - and then not given her the pass she asked for. That was a lesson in itself, but there was more.
The comment about the cliche was a reference to the response you might have expected. It was a pointer to say that the thing she needed to do was actually work. The point is that if he had simply told her this, she would probably have dismissed it, but because she had to work it through, because she had to work to find the answer, she understood it better. That was the real message he wanted to teach her, and she learnt it because she had to work a little bit to get there.
Of course, the story is just made up. We all know that tutors are not that perceptive, and students don't get these sorts of lessons so quickly. Or something. But the point is there - people learn more by doing than by being taught.
I am tempted here to give some examples of how this applies, but I am sure you can all find better examples, more appropriate ones. I am not dismissing book-learning, but I am suggesting that simply reading things in books is not "learning". learning is something you only get if you work for it, fight for it, struggle to get it, understand because you have engaged with it. I am currently working for my advanced driving test, and I realise that many of the things I have learnt in some 30 years of driving have been learnt the hard way. But it means that I am now a better driver, having learnt not from someone teaching me, but from my own experience.
Saturday, 11 April 2015
Quantum Confession
I have recently finished reading this book by Stephen Oram, and it is a very good read, a good story, a challenging book to read and make you think. If you haven't read it, this post may contain spoilers.
There are some aspects of it that I struggled with, which are not problems with the story as such, merely the characterisation of the two sides - the libertarians and the absolutionists. In one sense, this is simply because they are both characterised in emphatic terms, as extremes. What is more, because of the conflict between them, their positions tend to become more extreme. The problem is that I wanted to see which side I would be on, given a division of this nature, and I am not sure.
The faith communities are generally on the absolutionist side, because they stand for absolute truths, even though they differ greatly in what these truths are. They are united solely in opposition to the libertarians, by the fact that they all hold to some form of absolute truth. The problem I have with this is that I, and others who would be broadly on the side of the faith communities would not subscribe to this absolutionist position. I do not believe that there is an "absolute truth" that we are seeking to understand and learn. I believe that we are called to seek truth in all sorts of ways and all sorts of places. If you want, truth is like food and drink - I want and need to keep eating and drinking, some of which will be great, some will not, but I just need to have more and different. There is never a time when I would say "I have had the best meal possible, so I don;t need any more". My faith is about seeking for, searching out truth wherever it is, not to find some "absolute truth" that exists somewhere, any more than I eat in the hope of finding "the perfect meal".
So would I sit on the other side, the libertarians? Well not as they are portrayed, because there is one situation where a doctor refuses to suggest a treatment, because it is not his job to tell the relatives what to do. They are expected to research into the various treatments and identify what they would like the doctor to do. But this is not libertarianism, this is something else - this is a doctor failing to use his skills and expertise to help guide relatives. Actually, I am all for doctors not proscribing treatment, and to be honest, they don't for this sort of serious condition tell relatives what to do. They do outline options, give pros and cons, outline any particular issues that treatments might have, and suggest what they consider, in their professional opinion to be the best route to take. That is what I expect of professionals (medical or otherwise).
So I would not be on the side of those who refuse to offer advice when they have appropriate knowledge. Of course, I also wouldn't be on the side of professionals who dictate rather than discuss. The problem with most of those on the libertarian side is that they are not supporting freedom of thought, they are eroding trust. They erode trust in medical professionals who refuse to use their knowledge. They erode trust in friends and families, because they break the bonds of respect (however loose they are) - both ways, where parents deny any responsibilities they might be considered to have, and children refuse to accept their parents conditions. This breakdown in trust, rather than a rejection of absolute truth, causes people to breakdown.
I have a real problem with the equating of "removing trust" with "rejecting absolute truth", because they are different. In fact, because I don't accept a universal truth, I need to trust people - not with everything, but with being honest and open with me. It is more important to me that we can discuss and explore with openness, and not with some hidden purpose behind it. What is more, if you remove trust, people will move towards a breakdown, because you remove hope, you remove any sense of purpose. You do not recover from this by giving them absolute truth - you recover from this by caring for people.
None of this actually takes away from a good read, but it does give a challenge to the more absolutionist approaches of churches (in particular, but not exclusively). The choice is not between an absolute truth and any truth goes. The choice is, as the book tries to show, who you allow to define truth for you. Do you accept someone telling you "this is truth, accept or or not", or someone saying "believe whatever you want", or do you accept someone saying "find truth wherever"?
There are some aspects of it that I struggled with, which are not problems with the story as such, merely the characterisation of the two sides - the libertarians and the absolutionists. In one sense, this is simply because they are both characterised in emphatic terms, as extremes. What is more, because of the conflict between them, their positions tend to become more extreme. The problem is that I wanted to see which side I would be on, given a division of this nature, and I am not sure.
The faith communities are generally on the absolutionist side, because they stand for absolute truths, even though they differ greatly in what these truths are. They are united solely in opposition to the libertarians, by the fact that they all hold to some form of absolute truth. The problem I have with this is that I, and others who would be broadly on the side of the faith communities would not subscribe to this absolutionist position. I do not believe that there is an "absolute truth" that we are seeking to understand and learn. I believe that we are called to seek truth in all sorts of ways and all sorts of places. If you want, truth is like food and drink - I want and need to keep eating and drinking, some of which will be great, some will not, but I just need to have more and different. There is never a time when I would say "I have had the best meal possible, so I don;t need any more". My faith is about seeking for, searching out truth wherever it is, not to find some "absolute truth" that exists somewhere, any more than I eat in the hope of finding "the perfect meal".
So would I sit on the other side, the libertarians? Well not as they are portrayed, because there is one situation where a doctor refuses to suggest a treatment, because it is not his job to tell the relatives what to do. They are expected to research into the various treatments and identify what they would like the doctor to do. But this is not libertarianism, this is something else - this is a doctor failing to use his skills and expertise to help guide relatives. Actually, I am all for doctors not proscribing treatment, and to be honest, they don't for this sort of serious condition tell relatives what to do. They do outline options, give pros and cons, outline any particular issues that treatments might have, and suggest what they consider, in their professional opinion to be the best route to take. That is what I expect of professionals (medical or otherwise).
So I would not be on the side of those who refuse to offer advice when they have appropriate knowledge. Of course, I also wouldn't be on the side of professionals who dictate rather than discuss. The problem with most of those on the libertarian side is that they are not supporting freedom of thought, they are eroding trust. They erode trust in medical professionals who refuse to use their knowledge. They erode trust in friends and families, because they break the bonds of respect (however loose they are) - both ways, where parents deny any responsibilities they might be considered to have, and children refuse to accept their parents conditions. This breakdown in trust, rather than a rejection of absolute truth, causes people to breakdown.
I have a real problem with the equating of "removing trust" with "rejecting absolute truth", because they are different. In fact, because I don't accept a universal truth, I need to trust people - not with everything, but with being honest and open with me. It is more important to me that we can discuss and explore with openness, and not with some hidden purpose behind it. What is more, if you remove trust, people will move towards a breakdown, because you remove hope, you remove any sense of purpose. You do not recover from this by giving them absolute truth - you recover from this by caring for people.
None of this actually takes away from a good read, but it does give a challenge to the more absolutionist approaches of churches (in particular, but not exclusively). The choice is not between an absolute truth and any truth goes. The choice is, as the book tries to show, who you allow to define truth for you. Do you accept someone telling you "this is truth, accept or or not", or someone saying "believe whatever you want", or do you accept someone saying "find truth wherever"?
Friday, 3 April 2015
Nurse
Nurse is a short series by Paul Whitehouse, a dark comedy with Esther Coles as a community mental health nurse, visiting a range of her patients (mostly played by Whitehouse). I was both intrigued and worried by this, knowing that Whitehouse is a talented character actor, that he can define different characters well; but also that making fun of mental health issues is an easy target, and not actually that funny.
What really struck me early on was that there was an interesting interplay between Nurse Liz and her patients - in some ways, her patients are more together than she is, to an extent because she has to pretend to be OK, whereas her patients don't have to. The question that it asks me again and again is Who is the one with problems? The answer is everyone, the nurse, the patients, those people like Lorrie's neighbour Maurice who is not one of Liz's patients, but maybe he should be.
What was interesting was that there was humour in the series - and it was not making fun of those who were ill. It was sometimes seeing the humour in their situations, and often the target was nurse Liz herself. Ray the forgotten rock star, who talks about all of his past glories, to put off the moment when he needs an injection in his behind, is funny and poignant. There is something of Les McQueen from The League of Gentlemen, but more nuanced, less cynical. Graham is hugely overweight, but the jokes are not AT his weight problem, but as much at those (like his mother) who pamper to his food desires. If anyone is the butt of jokes in these sketches, it is his mother, not Graham himself.
There was a sense in some of the storylines, of progress, development, a sense that there was progress happening. In the final episode this week, some of these were resolved - in various ways. Graham got out of bed and walked a little - no miracles, but important progress. Ray had nothing to say in his last meeting, his silent depression a reflection of him acknowledging his problems. And yet there is the Alzheimer's sufferer who is really no better at the end than at the beginning - her son, who is Liz's actual patient, may have had enough.
As a whole, I think the series was very sensitive to those with mental health problems. It was funny, in a rather dark way, and I would put a trigger warning on it for those with mental health issues. Not everyone would find it funny, some would consider it offensive. I am not dismissing these views, all I am saying is that for me, it was insightful. Rather than laughing at at people with mental health problems, the series as a whole did identify some of the issues that they face, some of the challenges that mental health problems cause for individuals. For me, Ray - that chatty, outgoing star who ends up unable to say anything, was perfect, and someone who (in some ways) I relate to. That is the reality for many - including myself - of depression.
So, despite some reservations, I think Paul Whitehouse has done something very good, very positive. Well done.
What really struck me early on was that there was an interesting interplay between Nurse Liz and her patients - in some ways, her patients are more together than she is, to an extent because she has to pretend to be OK, whereas her patients don't have to. The question that it asks me again and again is Who is the one with problems? The answer is everyone, the nurse, the patients, those people like Lorrie's neighbour Maurice who is not one of Liz's patients, but maybe he should be.
What was interesting was that there was humour in the series - and it was not making fun of those who were ill. It was sometimes seeing the humour in their situations, and often the target was nurse Liz herself. Ray the forgotten rock star, who talks about all of his past glories, to put off the moment when he needs an injection in his behind, is funny and poignant. There is something of Les McQueen from The League of Gentlemen, but more nuanced, less cynical. Graham is hugely overweight, but the jokes are not AT his weight problem, but as much at those (like his mother) who pamper to his food desires. If anyone is the butt of jokes in these sketches, it is his mother, not Graham himself.
There was a sense in some of the storylines, of progress, development, a sense that there was progress happening. In the final episode this week, some of these were resolved - in various ways. Graham got out of bed and walked a little - no miracles, but important progress. Ray had nothing to say in his last meeting, his silent depression a reflection of him acknowledging his problems. And yet there is the Alzheimer's sufferer who is really no better at the end than at the beginning - her son, who is Liz's actual patient, may have had enough.
As a whole, I think the series was very sensitive to those with mental health problems. It was funny, in a rather dark way, and I would put a trigger warning on it for those with mental health issues. Not everyone would find it funny, some would consider it offensive. I am not dismissing these views, all I am saying is that for me, it was insightful. Rather than laughing at at people with mental health problems, the series as a whole did identify some of the issues that they face, some of the challenges that mental health problems cause for individuals. For me, Ray - that chatty, outgoing star who ends up unable to say anything, was perfect, and someone who (in some ways) I relate to. That is the reality for many - including myself - of depression.
So, despite some reservations, I think Paul Whitehouse has done something very good, very positive. Well done.
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