Who are they?

 New Lockdown: Day 6, Wednesday

I admit it. I got up very early, in the darkness and, under the subterfuge of going to have a pee, I had a sneaky look at my mobile to find out the state of play in the American election.  What I read was not exactly comforting and my attempt to go back to bed and sleep until daybreak did not work.

     So, up before dawn and reading my Guardian app on the phone while listening to Radio 4, I had a consolatory cup of tea and pondered on the sheer unadulterated differentness of people.

     People like me are going to have to come to terms with the fact that Trump got more votes than he did in the election in 2016.  Whatever the outcome of the election, and, as I type nothing at all seems even remotely settled, over 50 million (probably nearer to 60 million by now) people watched Trump be ‘president’ for four years and still voted for him.  I will not recite Trump’s glaring faults – perhaps they trip too easily off liberal tongues, like mindless repetition of rosary prayers.  I am tempted to say that the repetition has the same empty efficacy, serving merely as sonic balm to hide the fact that they are merely words with no further function than mouthed sounds.

     I listened to a Trump supporter say that she had her doubts about the character of Trump but felt that she shared his ideas and values.  She obviously didn’t mean the repulsive ideas and values that I see in him, but presumably some hazy version of what being a Republican means.  She was affluent and had higher education, but she mentioned the disturbingly left-wing policies of Biden (!) and the fear that he would limit freedom in some undefined way as justifications for her instinctive rejection.

     Obviously, this woman was on camera, felt under an obligation to ‘justify’ her support of Trump and, as far as I could tell in the fairly unnatural position of a televised interview, she seemed sincere and content with her choices.  She seemed decent enough, but had obviously put aside, or perhaps rejected as False News, much of the negative (factual) coverage of this depressing presidency.

     It is certainly tempting, from my point of view to dismiss Trump supporters as self-deluding idiots, and some of the choices that non-American commentators make in their choice of Trump supporting interviewees seem to fit that category, but 60 million Americans (and counting) voted for this person, and they cannot all be idiots, and to continue to think so will ensure that the divide in the country will never be healed.

     Some of the Trump supporters are in it for the money and for the power, or are the immediate nepotistic-sweetened family, but that only covers a fraction of the voting electorate.

     The four years of Trump have led some people who seem to live fairly coherent lives to say that, “He is the best president we have ever had!”  To say, “He really understands people like us!” or, “He cares!”  They see his public speaking, which I see as cringe-makingly embarrassing, as “natural” and “welcoming”, that he is, “really speaking to us!”  His free association of incoherent and contradictory meanderings allow Trump supporters to see the wealth-inherited billionaire (he claims) as one of their own, chatting to them in a way no other ‘politician’ can - or would dare to.

     Even as I try and be fair-minded, I can feel my bitterness and contempt seep through into my writing.  But astonishment at his continued ‘success’ will do nothing to stem the toxic populism that he represents and fosters.

     People on the left have a duty to understand how it is that so many people reject what seem like age-old standards of human decency for a strident self-defeating national selfishness.  And where do we start?

     Only one of my friends has admitted (that is an important qualification) to voting for Brexit.  None of them admits to voting for the Conservatives.  I read The Guardian and study the History of Art and live in Catalonia, not the obvious background to a right-wing populist, or a background likely to bring me into contact with other populists.  But my point is, that if the numbers of those voting for Trump or Johnson can be taken as a guide to how widespread their ‘ideology’ is then I must know a fair number of people who vote for what I regard as the disturbingly right-wing, and they are the people I need to understand and interact with in the expectation of bettering not only my own understanding of what is making people tick at the moment, but also of bettering our national dialogue.

     The problem, of course, is what to do next.

     I reject the idea of living in a Trumpian world: virtually everything he does and says is anathema to me.  But how do you change what seems to be a perniciously attractive way of looking at the world and one’s place inside it to many whom I have been able to regard (and I mean in an observational sense) as ‘other’?

     Perhaps, as part of our ‘Family Wisdom’ has it, “Anything is better than nothing!”  Speaking, conversation, writing, participating in political life, sharing thoughts, ideas - who knows what might eventually help, but an awareness of the divisions within society and a sensitivity towards them must surely be a step forward.

     And, when I get up tomorrow, perhaps Biden might have garnered the requisite number of Electoral College votes to start the process of the reinvention of the New Normal Politics, and then we can work on the New Normal during/after Covid without worrying what the so-called Leader of the Free World might tweet off the top of his head!

 

'Twas the day before . . .

 

“¡Valiente!” commented gentleman on the stairs down from the restaurant where we had just had lunch.  I wish that I could tell you that he was commending me on some characteristic act of bravery, but he wasn’t.  He was making a comment about the fact that I was wearing sandals.

I suppose that the 20^th of December is fairly late in the year still to be in denial about the demise of summer, but I am.  And I would further maintain that, as an ex-resident of Britain, I can still tell that the temperatures that I experience even in the harsher months here in Castelldefels are as nothing compared with the temperatures that I would experience were I still in my home city of Cardiff.

Not that Cardiff is really cold.  At least in comparison with the rest of the UK.  I noticed on weather maps that the temperatures in my city, while hardly tropical, were usually among the warmest on our benighted islands.  And for me, it was never really the low temperatures that got to me about the British weather: it was always the rain and grey skies.  

A cold and crisp December day in Castelldefels I can take, but take that temperature and place it in a sky sullen with washed out clouds and a soul-destroying drizzle permeating every inch of clothing in southern Wales and I start turning towards Strindburg for light entertainment!

And my feet don’t feel the cold as much as other parts of my body.  I am not an idiot, I remember my father’s comment, “Only a fool or a pauper is cold!” and maintain that I am neither, nor cold.  For example, I am typing this on the third floor, looking out (well, I can touch type) through single glazed French doors and windows that do very little to keep the cold out, so I have the central heating on.  We have two duvets and my grandmother’s eiderdown on the bed: we are warm.  But I can wear sandals without my feet getting cold.

They (my open feet) have become something of a defining feature of my winter wear here in Castelldefels.  Catalan people dress according to the month, whatever the actual weather is like.  December is Winter, you must, therefore, be thoroughly and warmly dressed up.  Young children display all the characteristics of victims about to be pulled apart by horses, as they wear so many layers of clothing that their arms and legs are angled away from their rotund bodies so that they look as though they are little neophyte priests with their (well wrapped) arms perpetually raised in blessing!  If my feet felt cold then I would wear shoes or trainers.  But they don’t, so I don’t.

The restaurant was at the bottom of our road and next to the beach, with startling views of the Med.  The meal was excellent.  It started with calçots - a local variety of an leek-like onion which are cooked over flames until the outer surface is charred and blackened, then they are wrapped in newspaper and served with a tasty sauce.

The real delight of this dish is that it is filthy.  You are provided with a paper bib and plenty of serviettes because to eat the calçots you have to peel away the outer layer, with blackening hands, extract the long oniony inside, dip it in the sauce and then lower it into your open mouth.  Not an elegant way to start the meal, but a deeply satisfying one!

My main course was of a fish called “denton” which is in none of my Spanish dictionaries and is unrecognized by Google translate.  I was told it was “salvaje” (wild) and when it arrived it was complete with head.  The flesh was juicy and sweet and I can’t say I recognized the type from its appearance.  The real joy of this course, though, was the vegetables: a mix including mushrooms, asparagus and peppers.  They were cooked al dente and had the sort of taste that makes you believe that being a vegetarian might not be such a bad idea after all.  That idea doesn’t last, but it is nice to have a dish that makes you believe it if only for a moment.

The last course was a sort of chocolate sponge, cream and caramel topping that I will not describe further as I can feel the calories adding themselves to my girth even as I think of them!

The wine was more than drinkable and my post meal cup of tea was acceptably strong and the milk was brought in a little jug and it was cold.  Believe you me, that last detail speaks volumes.  It has taken me a long, long time to get restaurants in our usual round to produce a cup of tea that would not have British people phoning for the kitchen police and, even though I give exhaustive and exhausting instruction as to how I expect my tea to arrive, I am constantly flummoxed by the details that Spanish tea making assassins can get wrong.

And so home after a little light shopping for the final aspects of Toni’s Christmas present and the realization that we are actually fairly well set to survive the season and to my delight and relief, Toni has volunteered to wrap the presents tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

December 21^st.

Perhaps everything that I have written up to this point as been to avoid typing, or even thinking about what is going to happen tomorrow.

The election in Catalonia.

Today is the day of reflection.  Candidates have ceased campaigning, and today is the day when people can think about what has been said (and shouted) and weigh up the possibilities and make a measured judgement about how to cast their vote.

Today is also the day when the leaders of all the political parties but their rivalries aside and join together in a photoshoot which shows them all together.

But not this year.  A photoshoot of all the leaders would be a tad difficult as one of the leaders is in prison and another is in exile in Belgium!  So the shoot has been cancelled.

Now right thinking people (i.e. me) might think that this non-happening photoshoot is the clearest indication possible to voters that some sort of Rubicon has been crossed.  The courts have been politically manipulated and motivated; an 'invasion' has been mounted against the Catalan government; our leaders have been cynically deposed; a minority government has staged a pseudo coup d’état, among other things.

It is perfectly easy, of course, to take a radically different view.  To aver that the ‘deposed’ politicians have behaved in an unconstitutional way, they have used public funds in an illegal fashion, they are seditious and in rebellion against the state.  The minority right wing Spanish government therefore, has done no more than assert the rights of the majority and uphold the constitution.

If we had a Spanish national government that wasn’t so deeply mired in corruption; if we had true separation between the courts and the executive; if we had politicians who thought about the country and not their own well being; if we had a President who had political nous; if . . . and so on, and so on.

Rajoy is President, he must accept the lion’s share of responsibility for the present situation.  He has been president for some time.  His party objected to the settlement, that passed both houses in Parliament, that would have given Catalonia a different status and got the higher courts to overturn the plan.  He has been president while the situation has worsened and he has done nothing to find a real settlement.

Perhaps Rajoy’s ‘master plan’ (I use the term very loosely for a political pygmy like him) has been to force things to a catastrophic denoument then sweep in like an avenging angel and reset the relationship with that 'difficult' region/country of Catalonia once and for all.  After all his party scrapes lower than 9% of the popular vote into his grasping paws, and he has nothing to lose and everything to gain by trying whatever he feels like in a country that has constantly rejected him and his ‘ideology’.  

Perhaps chaos is what Rajoy has been working towards.  If he has, he has royally succeeded!

So tomorrow is the vote.  Toni is confident that the independence parties will get over the magic 68 seats needed to gain an absolute majority.  I'm not, but I am prepared to go with his optimism.

As an outside observer I have been shocked at the one sided reporting of the election.  Rajoy knows that his own corrupt party stands no chance of winning in Catalonia and so the power of the right wing press and the money of various industrialists have gone into Ciudadanos that, although it sometimes like to describe itself as a centrist party, votes or abstains to aid the minority right wing Spanish PP governing party.  Rajoy knows that a vote for Cs (Ciudadanos) is, in reality a vote for the continuation of his corrupt government and the only way that he is going to get anything approaching a majority in Catalonia.

The Spanish equivalent of the British Labour party, PSOE or PSC in Catalonia have sided with PP and Cs.  They do have a policy or renegotiation of the relationship between the regions and the central government.  They reject the idea of a referendum for independence.  They have lost credibility, and in all important aspects will, will have to vote with what are their natural enemies if they wish to prevent a declaration of independence by Catalonia.  They do not have individual power or the likelihood of a coalition to get their ideas anywhere.  

The same goes for Podemos, the further left party.  Their idea of a binding referendum is doomed to failure in the national government because they do not have a majority or partners who might support their ideas.  Without power these parties can say what they like, but it is not going to happen.

Even if the independence parties gain an absolute majority tomorrow, they will have to cope with the implacable opposition of Rajoy and PP with the support of Cs and the active support of PSOE voting with these parties or usefully abstaining.  PP will, therefore, get what it wants.  And it has a built in majority in the Senate.

Whatever happens, it's going to be a rough time for Catalonia.

Keep watching!

Beggar him!

Close

Miss Havisham going up in flames in grainy blank and white in a BBC adaptation of Great Expectations was something I had to wait for as the novel unfolded week by week in its allotted TV spot in the schedules.  There were no short cuts, you had to wait.

     How different the present!  Having recently discovered that I had access to series and films via one of my subscriptions I have binge watched the first series of The Man in the High Castle – the story of what might have happened if German and Japan had been the victors in World War Two. 

In this version of reality, America has been divided between the Germans on the East Coast and the Japanese on the West, with a lawless Neutral Zone in between.

     The production values of the series are high and the detailing of each scene is replete with intelligent and satisfyingly visual suggestions as to how the reality might have worked out.

     The mixture of plots and sub plots using politics, espionage, deception and brutality to further the story line; the Resistance and its struggle against totalitarian governments; a love story; the clash of cultures – all of these elements can be found in any number of dramas, the ESP of this series is the injection of a disturbing element of Science Fiction.

     A key plot device in the action of the series is played by a series of films.  These films seem to show a different reality, one in which the Axis powers did not win the war and our version of the Allied Powers being triumphant is the subject of the films.  These films are being collected by the eponymous Man in the High Castle who may, or may not be an ageing Hitler.

     There are hints in the episodes that suggest that there might be parallel universes and that somehow or other elements from these parallel universes are leaking into the reality of the series: either that, or the whole 10 episodes of Series 1 was an elaborate dream in the Japanese Trade Minister’s mind!  As there is a Series 2 and 3(?) I don’t think that device can be used to justify another 20 episodes!

     As the series is set in the 1960s there are technological elements that jar, including the appearance of a German supersonic ‘rocket’ plane which has the delta wing formation of the late lamented Concorde.  The aircraft set looks very impressive on the ground, but I found it singularly unconvincing in flight, an odd glitch in otherwise excellent CGI.  There are also trains that use a magnetic drive – these things are anachronistic for the 1960s and might therefore strengthen the supposition that someone is able to travel between the parallel universes and take technology from a ‘future’ world or a parallel but more advance one and use knowledge to boost technology in the reality of the series.

     I have just discovered that I have access to the ten episodes of Series 2 – so that’s another day of my life given over to being hooked to the screen of my computer!

     The acting in the series is, for the most part, convincing and enjoyable to watch.  The basic premise of the plot it interesting and the production professional.  The script is sometimes indulgent and philosophical profundity can be signalled a little too obviously, but the action is engaging and such attention is given to the appearance of things that I am convinced and satisfied.

     Obviously, there are a number of questions that have been posed in this first series that might be addressed in the second.  I can’t wait to find out.  And I don’t have to, all the episodes are waiting for me just to click the mouse and enjoy!

In the same way that my typing for this blog is often displacement activity from doing my Spanish homework, so too is my choice of topic.  Much though I enjoyed watching the series above, there are more pressing things to talk about than an old TV series.  Like, for example, the present political situation in Castelldefels and Catalonia.

     The election in Catalonia is less than a month away and the political parties are gearing up for the fray.  One television station has taken to referring to the ‘Constitutional’ parties i.e. PP (Hard, corrupt right); C’s so-called ‘centre right’ but in reality, hard right as well, subsidised by business and sluttish in their approach to power; PSC (the Catalan version of PSOE, the so-called ‘socialist’ (sic.) party that has aligned itself with the right and is opposed to Catalan independence.)  Then all the other parties are lumped together under the Independent label as if it is opposed to the concept of constitutional, rather than the reading of constitutional that has been made by the other parties.

     According to the latest poll, the veracity of which I cannot vouch for, the figures show that the two ‘sides’ are fairly equally matched with neither side able to gain an overall majority.  The balance of power, according to this poll, will be held by the Catalan version of the left wing Podemos, which has declared itself opposed to independence, but in favour of a binding referendum about independence.

     The ruling (corrupt and corrupting) party of PP stands little chance of gaining more than 8 or 9 seats in Catalonia as they are cordially despised as crypto-fascist and anti-Catalan.  PP put their hopes in the sluttish C’s party which is headed by a photogenic power-hungry Catalan (allegedly) whose party was formed specifically to stop Catalan separation and was funded by big business and who once posed nude for an election poster to show that he had nothing to hide!  This apology for a party stands to gain the most in the elections.  I hope that this is not true, and Toni assures me that it won’t happen, though I am not as sanguine as he.  The traditional party of left wing opposition is PSC, the Catalan part of PSOE, unfortunately their position has been totally compromised by their national dalliance with PP to get a taste of power.  The fact that the word ‘Socialist’ forms part of their party’s title should be a standing condemnation of their actions: PSC is a party without a soul and without an ethic.  They have shared a platform with PP and C’s: they have marched with PP and C’s; they have voted with PP and C’s.  In some ways it would be fairer to call PSOE/PSC power sluts rather than the traditional political sex workers of C’s.  Whatever, they have forfeited their right to my vote.

     Which leaves my choice on the, presumably, ‘unconstitutional’ side of the political debate!  But my thoughts about the parties which comprise this element of Catalan politics can wait for next week.

    

Lunch was from our usual takeaway restaurant in Castelldefels and was well up to standard, though the owner of the restaurant urged me to look at the rotisserie where an entire suckling pig was being roasted.  It looked delicious and only cost 100 euros!  How do they do it for the money?  I think that the test of something cooked like this is that you should be able to cut the meat up with the side of a plate!  As this beast was supposed to feed eight it means that the individual portion would only cost 12 euros per person – which, thinking about it seems like good value, or at least worth it!

     The chicken that we actually had, while perfectly acceptable, was not really as spectacular as that which I left turning in the heat. 

      At least I can live with expectation!