Strolling down Marsham street, past the Itsu and Pret a Manger, a funny looking man in a top hat flanked by grey haired beret wearing old women scream at the top of their lungs whilst recording a group of depressed looking individuals clad in ill-fitting suits who walk past them and into the Emmanuel Centre. Loud renditions of ‘Ode to Joy’ blare from the portable speakers powered from a generator in a white van plastered in EU flags.
You might think, for at least a moment, that I am describing a snapshot from 2017. That these individuals are making plans for Britain’s ‘strategy moving forward as we leave the EU’, and that Mister Bray would at least have a reason to be shouting ‘bollocks to Brexit’ at the passers-by. Instead, the year is 2023, Brexit is barely being mentioned at all inside the walls of the conference room, and no one is quite sure what he – or they – are there for.
That seems to be an outstanding theme of the conference: uncertainty. No one at all seemed to be able to pin down exactly what it was that they stood for. A plethora of rambling speeches about Edmund Burke, multiple references to ‘Le contrat sociale’, continuous struggle sessions against the rotting corpse of Margret Thatcher (who seemingly still operates behind the shadows in every corner of government), and yet nothing new or interesting was being said, just vague topics which they knew everyone would sort of agree with anyway.
Worse still, a lot of the high-profile attendees (especially the MP’s who bothered to turn up) didn’t really seem to know what the event was for. A favourite moment of mine was when, at the very opening of the event, Yoram Hazony and Jacob Rees-Mogg accidentally went ‘head-to-head’ in debating the finer points of the corn laws and the benefits of wheat tariffs in their separate speeches… absolutely thrilling stuff which really tackled… THE ISSUES.
Another devastating moment was when Suella Braverman took the stage to talk about her vision for Britain. In actuality, it was a 25-minute party political broadcast about why you should just ignore the last decade of Tory government and still trust her to ‘stop the boats’. It’s always so upsetting when you listen to actual real politicians – high ranking ministers, no less – who act like opinion piece columnists. The looks on the faces of the attendees during her talk said it all: “YOU ARE A MINISTER OF STATE, YOU HAVE CONTROL OVER THE HOME OFFICE, DO SOMETHING!”
No leadership, no courage, no unified vision. This is what the supposedly ‘Real Right Wing’ looks like for Britain at the moment. No figure appeared to give any sense of direction or policy; they would much rather ‘hash out the arguments’ and ‘make their case’ instead. This is not how you win elections or drive the mechanisms of state, this is how you gain followers on twitter or get a graduate columnist job at [MAGAZINE_NAME.COM].
Despite my negativity, I actually think that this presents a wonderful opportunity for those with more dissenting ideas on what the future of ‘national conservatism’ means in Great Britain. “NatCon” doesn’t really know what it seeks to be and has no defined leadership, so why not show it the way? Instead of feeling like a ‘captured institution’, it felt like a proto-organisation which can’t quite put its finger on what it is yet. Instead of allowing it to lean on the boring and decaying figures of the present, a fascinating vacuum is opening up to swallow anyone with the boldness to make clear cut statements on what they wish to see as the future of National Conservatism. Doing *that* would be a lot easier than any sort of ‘Tory Entryism’ which the generation before us sought to complete.
At the very least, the conference was an excellent opportunity for networking. It was nice to see a format more similar to CPAC than Tory Party Conference, with many MPs, intellectuals, and journalists more than happy to sit and chat with you outside of the main hall instead of listening to the lectures. This was genuinely enjoyable and made the experience a lot more worthwhile. I sincerely hope that more events like that can take place in future.
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Modern Feminists and the Anti-Bildungsroman
Over the recent decade, we have seen a certain type of storyline rise to popularity among critics. The plot usually follows a female character with some type of special power or circumstance who, by virtue of said power, is beset by some type of related conflict; sounds normal enough—this is the beginning of virtually every story.
However, in this case, the conflicts that develop around said heroines’ uniqueness do not always follow their growing or learning how to ethically or effectively use their power. Instead, it’s the opposite: their stories or the cultural interpretation thereof often involve the discovery, decision, or insistence that they do not have to grow or learn, but that it is society or the surrounding world that must adapt to and accept them. From Elsa, to Carol Danvers, to Rey (it cannot be stressed enough) Palpatine, some of the most lauded heroines in current media have followed this type of storyline—which, due to the the ways the characters interact with their settings and conflicts, involves several tropes of a common story type, the bildungsroman.
However, the plot structure and underlying tone of the aspects emphasized as worthwhile by critics classify them as an attempt to form a new genre: a kind of anti-bildungsroman that, in line with the beliefs of the modern feminism that usually advocates said storyline type, actively seeks to subvert the assumptions of the individual’s (here, the individual woman’s) relationship with the broader social structure. The execution of this storyline ironically does the female characters—and stories with female leads generally—several disservices that run counter to the stated goals of those behind the stories.
The Bildungsroman: what it is and what it isn’t.
Just for a refresher, a bildungsroman—German for “education novel”—is a story that intertwines the character’s ethical, psychological, and spiritual growth with the resolution of the conflict. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is as much about Alice’s learning not to behave like all the examples of toxic femininity she encounters through the story as it is actually getting out of the rabbit hole. Harry Potter learns as much about how to be a responsible young adult as how to actually cast spells (with the when and why invariably outweighing the what). The bulk of Aang’s story in Avatar: The Last Airbender involves not his learning how to use his powers as the Avatar, but his learning not to be a childish idiot who sticks his foot in his mouth at every turn. And who can forget Uncle Ben’s injunction to Peter Parker (established by Spider-Man: No Way Home as a theme that transcends the multiverse) about power and responsibility? It’s become nearly as iconic a scene as a still novice Luke Skywalker running through Dagobah with Yoda on his back, with nary a trickle of Force to be discerned by the anticipating audience.
In each of these, the external conflict is resolved and made more complex and dramatic by the character’s resolving some type of inner conflict—usually involving the growth from maturity to immaturity, selfishness to sacrifice, idleness to responsibility, &c.
Now, not every story is or needs to be a bildungsroman. We don’t always need heroes that change or grow—sometimes we need the opposite! It’s no coincidence that Conan the Barbarian and Superman, both unique because of their unchangeability, came out of the flux of the 1930s, when the average Joe, Jane, Jimmy, or Jill might rather enjoy a character who stands in opposition to the instabilities and shiftings around them.
There are many other examples of changeless characters coming out of changing times. The Lord of the Rings—specifically, Aragorn—came out of Tolkien’s effort to preserve English virtues and history through the trauma of values that were the Great War and Modernism (though, granted, Aragorn did a lot of growing up before Frodo receives the Ring). Later in the twentieth century, James Bond stood like a modern Conan (the parallels between their stories and characters are many, despite the obvious differences) amidst the unease of the Cold War. Nor does it always need to be so dire as these: in the ‘90s, Forrest Gump’s charm often inhered in how his simplemindedness showed how the problems around him might really have simple answers (at least within the bounds of his film), and the Dude of mistakened Lebowski fame would not be His Dudeness if he grew through his misadventures.
I list these to head off any claims of my placing standards on the female characters discussed below that I won’t apply to male characters. This is also why, other than this sentence, I won’t use the oft-bandied phrase “Mary Sue;” besides simplifying the argument into mere stereotypes, the phrase, or its male counterpart Gary Stu, implies that strong or unchanging characters are always bad or always lack depth. They may very well be, but my interest is not to simply descry it but to find out why. I come at the topic and characters below with one goal: to encourage complex characters and stories that do what we need art to do—to concretize the values we need to experience at a given time in ways that are timeless. Sometimes that can best be achieved by characters that grow, sometimes not; usually we need iterations of both simultaneously—often in the same story.
But the stories I’m focusing on do assume the complexity of a bildungsroman framework; in each case, the female character is placed in a situation where she is expected by society (and, often, the audience) to grow and she either flatly refuses to do so, or she grows in ways counter to her respective canon. In fact, the characters often self-consciously push against and subvert the canonical expectations for growth in various ways.
Elsa: Letting Go of Past Story Structures
The phenomenon that was Frozen was hailed by many as a deconstruction of the archetypal Disney princess story. Its setup follows many tropes of said genre: a girl of unique birth locked away by parents to prevent a misuse of her powers. However, from there the movie breaks the tradition of stories as late as Rapunzel (2010), which, itself, broke several tropes while adhering to familiar formats. Parents? The uredeemed source of her abuse. Prince charming? Actually the villain. The protagonist’s powers? To be used without compunction after letting go (of expectations? Of the need for self-control? The unnamed antecedent of her song’s Dionysian “it” is as multifarious as the audience might wish).
It would be wrong to say Elsa experiences no growth or argue her character lacks compelling internal conflicts. After going to live alone on her mountaintop (notably embodying several characteristics of the traditional ice queen villain), she does come down and remit her isolation upon learning that by embracing her powers she has caused an eternal winter in Arendelle. Furthermore, not all of the movie’s deconstructions are negative. While the ending of stories in a marriage signifies the restored balance and completion of comedy—and is much more than merely reducing the female to an ornament of the male and his restored power structure, as the format’s feminist critics allege—Frozen’s replacing the familiar eros-driven love story with one of phileo between sisters should be welcomed as an expansion of the virtues and values we enjoy being explored. However, from there we are faced by the irony that the same voices who push the “sisters > prince charming” dynamic often insist on seeing eros in any story featuring two male friends—an unfortunate sexist double standard…
My focus here on Frozen and the others is as much on the cultural response to the stories as the stories, themselves. The danger to Anna posed by her love-at-first-sight relationship with Prince Hans was not rectified by placing it against the authentic relationship with Kristoff; rather, the reversal of the form was turned retroactively onto all other Disney stories about love at first sight, which had the tone less of adding complexity that had never been established than of burning down the now malicious parts of what had. Finally, it was not a song about Elsa’s learning how to judiciously use her powers that every parent of kids of a certain age (or, let’s face it, young adults, too) had to listen to on repeat for the rest of 2013 and most of 2014. It was a song advocating the audience (especially girls) vicariously “Let it go!” along with Elsa. It was a kicking song, and I don’t begrudge any young girl for making her parents want to break a speaker because of it, but it did, thematically, set the ideological perspective and tone for latter heroines that would come after.
Rey Palpatine: A Victim of her Advocates
The next female character who declines to grow in ways prescribed by her lore is Rey Palpatine. Establishing Rey’s arc or lack thereof is difficult due to her appearing in three films with different directors with conflicting goals for her movies. The lack of unified vision, added to the retconning the trilogy exacted on the established Lucas canon and universe, makes it difficult to treat Rey’s plot either as a uniform whole or as a consistent intentional decision to buck expectations.
Nonetheless, against the backdrop of Luke’s growth under Yoda Rey’s development falls short. While Luke’s progression is drawn over two, if not all three, of the original movies, Rey is able to, for example, beat Kylo Ren the first time she touches a lightsaber. This could be possibly excused if, like Anakin, she were shown to have a high concentration of midichlorians and, thus, a more preternatural adeptness with the Force; however, such a reveal, set up by Abrams in The Force Awakens, was rejected by Rian Johnson in favor of making her a nobody in The Last Jedi (a more vicious crime against Star Wars lore than simply creating a new heroine backstory—or, really, refusing to—might necessarily entail). Abrams, then, had to pick up the pieces in The Rise of Skywalker to make what he could of Johnson’s arson. Central as it is, Rey’s disjointed arc is by no means the only problem with the new Star Wars trilogy.
Enough has been written and recorded about the canonical breaks between the original and the prequel trilogies and Rey’s that I don’t need to belabor the differences. Furthermore, many of Rey’s lacks can be explained, and possibly excused, by acknowledging the directorial conflicts of the trilogy. However, this does not excuse how Rey’s character was marketed: she was, we were often reminded, a female heroine, and that to reject her and all the incongruous elements of her story, even for the sake of preserving the larger Star Wars universe in good faith, was nothing less than sexist bigotry resulting from an irrational fear of strong women (which, strangely enough, had not reared its head in response to any of the other strong, complex females in the Star Wars universe).
The insistence among Rey’s defenders that she is a prime example of both a strong female character and a victim of unfair bigotry unfortunately sets the bar quite low for what is considered a good character—besides disregarding a devoted fanbase who were already invested in finding in the star of the revival trilogy as much depth as they could. Again, my focus is less on whether Rey consistently grows (if she does, it is disjointed due to director disagreements and rushed in a “tell rather than show” kind of way—a sin for character development of any genre). At issue here is the implied insistence that she should not have to grow—that standards of growth from a previous canon are at best an unfair standard and at worst a reactionary response from a threatened tradition of supposedly (but, as fans know, not really) male lore and predominantly male audience against a new heroine. That Rey’s greatness, thus, relied on the spectre of sexist pushback for its vitality and clout did not strike anyone as an issue to be worried about.
Carol Danvers: The Unrestrained Will
My final example of a heroine who rejects the complexity of growth prescribed by her own canon—and the one that does so most openly—is the adult version of Elsa, Marvel’s Carol Danvers. Begun in production as Elsa was gracing theaters, Captain Marvel (2019) added the element of the character’s rethinking her entire culture—of decolonizing her mind, as it were—to the formula, providing her further justification to eschew the self-control and prescribed growth of the traditional superhero story.
Danvers’s story begins with her training opposite Jude Law’s Yon-Rogg, who is preparing her to be a Kree warrior. It is against his mentoring admonitions to control her impulses and to use her head over her heart—and to become “the best version of yourself”—that the rest of her story takes place. Through the movie, she pieces together her disjointed memories to discover the Kree she is fighting for against the Skrull are actually the baddies, and that she is a human whose powers come from Kree technology she destroyed but which Yon-Rogg and the civilization’s Supreme Intelligence AI are trying to still utilize in her.
For the present I’ll ignore the fact that the movie reduces the 1970s “Kree-Skrull War” match between two bloodthirsty races in into a one-sided genocide of the Skrull by the Kree that resembles less the source material and more the modern revisionist simplifications of history into binaries between rapacious, patriarchal colonists and innocent, victimized indigenous. At issue here is that the heroine discovers, in a reverse-brainwashing sequence, that she has actually been misled (gaslit, brainwashed, Stockholm syndromed, all the common terms) by the Kree, and that her assumptions and even her own mind are complicit with the evils of the Kree. She must, thus, decolonize her worldview as she works out whence she got her powers—which, upon learning she gained them through an attempt to save the Skrull, could be used without any moral qualms about their being created by the antagonists.
Within the bounds of the movie, it’s a compelling conflict, and one which does necessitate Danvers’s rethinking and rejecting Yon-Rogg’s inducements to use her powers in what the Kree would say were the right ways (but which are, in reality, against her practical and ethical interests). However, it is not, technically a character arc: rather, it is an anti-arc. Released from the usual inducement to meet power with self-control, or to clearly delineate between her power and her self (with the former always needing to predominate), Danvers simply uses her powers.
This results in some great cinematics that, I’ll admit, meet the desire for a decent action movie with a satisfyingly insolent protagonist. However, Danvers nonetheless loses a major potential character arc.
Even in the final moment with Yon-Rogg, where, in rejecting his last-ditch effort to manipulate her into fighting as herself without her powers (i.e. on terms in which he knows he can beat her), she simply blows him away, thus showing that he’s right: that she cannot control her impulses.
She claims she has nothing to prove to him, but what about to herself? This is, after all, one of the classic canonical superhero conflicts—where the line between self and power falls, which can provoke further questions of what can ultimately be relied upon, or how to maintain one’s self despite the changes brought by power. What about conflicts regarding the dependability of her newfound way of seeing the world, a major question in a movie where the inability to trust reality (brainwashing Kree, shapeshifting Skrull, etc) is a common motif? No, once she gets woke to the Kree, Danvers never questions her new episteme. Why allow internal conflicts to burden her character with unnecessary complexity—especially when we can resolve all the movie’s external conflicts with unlimited girlboss power, smashing the patriarchy—err, the Kree—with their own tools, instead?
This lack of reflection on her powers is a major part of what makes Danvers’s character flatter than either Elsa’s or Rey’s. Both of them at least experience doubt regarding their powers and their relationship to them and their relative place in the world. However, as if stuck in Elsa’s famous song, Danvers’ climactic embracing of her powers keeps her in a third-act moment of what could have been a five-act growth arc.
There is also the unadmitted Superman paradox.
The Superman paradox arose when writers realized an all-powerful being could have no serious conflicts—and, therefore, no compelling story. His creators had to steadily introduce kryptonite to keep him interesting. Presumably her creators knew of this but didn’t think it would apply.
It can certainly be argued that incorporating both an awakening embrace of power and an overcoming of weakness to that power would be expecting too much—and trying to include two major conflicts in one movie. However, completely eschewing any real weakness (Danvers’ conflict involves her adopting and subsequently rejecting weaknesses she does not intrinsically have, which are accidental and, thus, ultimately unserious as conflicts) still sets a low bar of complexity when most superhero movies include some sort of chink in the hero’s armor for future exploration. Danvers’s embracing of her powers is so wholly untainted that, as cathartic for some as the final sequence may be (complete with her acquiring the ultimate symbol of freedom, flight), the seeds for future growth or reflection—the marks of a hero’s staying power—are, sadly, lacking.
[1] Feminist Heroines: A Rejection of Complex Females
None of this is to deny that Elsa’s, Rey’s, or Danvers’s movies are entertaining and have devoted, good-faith fanbases. As with the unchanging heroes I mention above, people can and should enjoy what they like and feel they need. However, this leads to my qualms with the idea of a character type that shouldn’t have to grow in expected or sympathetic ways. Among other things, I fear the contention that traditional complexity and character growth are arbitrary impositions meant to reject characters because of their femaleness will result in less complexity in female characters, as well as create, in a self-fulfilling prophecy, an antipathy or apathy among audiences towards new female characters—not because they are female, but because they are simple.
However, so long as a certain brand of feminist critics assume that all efforts to mold a female character according to a broader ethical framework are, really, a patriarchal attempt to keep women down, we will continue to get simplistic stories and morals thereof like these. This should not surprise us. The same critics who hold to this implicitly Marxist reading of traditional story structures interpret Pride and Prejudice as an anti-woman novel because it suggests some of Elizabeth Bennet’s problems can only be fixed by personal reflection and reformation—i.e. because the novel is in part a bildungsroman—despite her embodying most of the same traits of their stated favorite heroines (even those discussed above!). If that is how such critics interpret a thoroughly complex character arc, we should not hold out hope for better from them or from studios working to satisfy them as an audience.
So, what should we do? For one, we should flatly deny the accusations that disliking an individual character equates antagonism or bigotry against an entire category; besides employing an irrefutable denial of moral legitimacy, it tries to shoehorn a Marxist reading that sees individuals as merely instances of their group or class. In trying to save characters from simplicity, we should also fight the simplification of critique.
When stories or characters come out that do, indeed, participate in complexity in some way, we should promote them. This may mean being open to new reworkings of stories (on that note, I had originally included The Legend of Korra above, but on further reflection and research of perspectives, I decided the Avatar Korra does grow in ways consistent with the precedents of the Avatar universe that I had not considered before). While above I critiqued the characters for breaking from their canons, it can be equally damaging for story to never stretch what has already been. The best stories will, in my view, resurrect familiar elements of their canons while showing that new arcs are still possible therein. So, we should vote with our pounds, dollars, and online engagements to show at least the less ideology-driven studios that complexity of story matters to audiences more than character identity politics.
A converse of this is to reject stories built around transgressive or socially deconstructive elements, and to educate ourselves on why such things do not and should not be privileged as equally valid views or stories (being anti-stories) in the marketplace of ideas—especially when those who promote them would not and are not extending the same toleration to the rest of us.
Finally, as we at The Mallard have advocated and tried to put into practice, we should create the things we want to see. If nothing else, this will help us understand how to interpret the other art we consume. Complexity is difficult, and accomplishing it subtly and succinctly is even moreso. It might discredit me as a writer to put it in print, but I had to cut 250+ pages of my novel Sacred Shadows and Latent Light, most of which was backstory and characterization. Necessary for fleshing out my characters for myself, but not inherently necessary for developing the book’s conflict. The experience paradoxically made me more sympathetic but also less yielding when it comes to character depth. I hope I’ve shown both above in my treatment of characters who have, in theory (certainly in budget), better writers than I behind them.
[One aspect of Captain Marvel that is only peripherally related to Danvers’s relationship with her powers, but which nonetheless aligns with the eschewing of usual self-control progression, is her treatment of the minor male characters in the film. Danvers has the perfect excuse to treat new people with suspicion, and, perhaps excepting Stan Lee on the bus, she enjoys it—from ____ to committing theft grand auto. Of course, the trope of an apparent alien not conforming to local property laws goes as far back as Thor (and, of course, farther), but the undertone here is that the theft is justified in response to the man admittedly creepily asking Danvers for a smile. She later shows that her default to rudeness is not a casualty of her untrusting circumstances: she responds to someone as unthreatening as Tom Holland’s Peter Parker in Avengers: Endgame in as insolent a manner as she does to the characters in her movie—an indecency for which I have not been able to forgive her.]
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The Effigies of Crediton
William Peryam (1534–1604) of Little Fulford lies in the north side of the chancel. Adjacent to the west side of ‘Will’ is ‘Liz’, Elizabeth Tuckfield (1593–1630). Then John de Sully and his wife Isobel can be found at the end of the south choir aisle. John (1282–1388) was Lord of the Manor of nearby Iddesleigh, noted since for its public house, The Duke of York, recently frequented by Our King, where the author Michael Morpurgo of Warhorse fame says he talked to an old soldier with first-hand knowledge of the use of horses during the Great War.
The Church of the Holy Cross at Crediton in the county of Devon is often empty of live people, which helps. Once known by the Pythonesque name The Collegiate Church of the Holy Cross and the Mother of Him who Hung Thereon, the church today is an ancient and sacred space alive with dust and history and I heartily recommend a visit. The grand nave and chancel of the current building date from the fifteenth century. The existing structure is built on the site of what was the cathedral of the Bishop of Crediton until the mid-eleventh century when the see was transferred to nearby Exeter. Conveniently, it sits twixt Brampford Speke on whose riverbanks I flyfish the Exe, and Crediton Tandoori where I gorge on lamb saag most Saturday evenings (when fishless) during season.
I find my four friends to be patient listeners. They have now replaced the old monks – a housemaster, a headmaster and a teacher monk – who used to listen and advise on how best to conquer life’s rapids. All are now dead and gone, my monks, buried in Monks’ Wood cemetery at Ampleforth, a Benedictine school and monastery, in North Yorkshire.
The peace one can find in this fine church in Crediton, especially on the pew nearest to ‘John and Izzie’, elevates one’s thoughts. Problems solve themselves while dust dances in the light. Speaking to effigies is a practice I recommend to all my friends – they don’t talk back; they never sue and not once have they lost their tempers.
The effigies have helped me map out a business plan and decipher a pressing recruitment challenge. We came up with some inspired moves for the backs in my son’s rugby team and I felt reassured in their presence of numbers at the recent death of a beloved labrador. I have role-played a court case with my effigy pals, pondered a complex moral quandary and worked through innumerable challenges to the point of viable outcomes.
The process I employ with the four is less Ghostbusters and more mentor mind mapping. (Mind mapping is when you write, draw, or think up pictures of a goal that you would like to achieve and then you brainstorm everything you need to do to achieve that goal. One can add mentors for assistance and wisdom). Some people are clever enough to mind map without the need for effigies – I am fool enough to require their help. I use the layout of Crediton church and my imagining of the characteristics of the effigies to build mind-maps in my head. Not wishing to big up their egos, I suppose the effigies merely provide effective sounding boards and some geographical parameters while existing in a quiet and holy place where one can think, open to the universe.
I hand a problem to each of my stone counsellors. Financial decisions tend go to Will, who was once Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer. Family issues and questions of morality go to the ladies. John tends to get lumbered with questions of strategy for no reason other than he looks like a cunning, card-playing chap. Then I work my way around the church in my mind’s eye, imagining an exchange of thoughts, often inspired by the coloured light that shines through the church windows, giving off Newtonian stimuli. You’d be amazed at how effective the whole process is. If we get stuck, then there is always that gigantic crucifix atop the main altar.
When I am disburdened, I light a candle, pray for their souls and for loved ones alive and dead, then put a few quid in the roof fund box. This is the most practical thanks I can give my counsellors for their guiding light as they would all erode without shelter from Devon rains – alas, some already suffer from worn noses.
Speaking to the dead was a capital offence punishable by stoning under Old Testament law. God in the Bible considers talking to the dead a detestable practice and He calls His people to be blameless. In mitigation, I do not believe I am really talking to the dead in Crediton church, but I confess that talking to my effigies is sometimes easier than talking to the living. I am reminded by them of Marcus Aurelius’ encouragement to, “Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now, take what’s left and live it properly. What doesn’t transmit light creates its own darkness.”
When we are honest with ourselves, we are all mere effigies. As long as light is transmitted, who cares what state of living one’s assistants take?
As one of my Benedictines taught me, death is but a thin veil and we are never far from the dead. He was with two boys at Medjugorje who had recently lost a sister in a tragic accident. They pleaded with him to ask her to give them a sign that she was well. As he prayed out loud before them, a rose seller walked close by, and they were all overcome with the sweet smell of roses.
It is thus at Crediton church. I enter burdened with problems and leave smelling roses.
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With Friends Like These, Who Needs Enemies?
Several months have passed since Hamas orchestrated the surprise attacks against Israel in the notorious and brutal events of October 7th, one of the bloodiest days in Israel’s modern history, with over a thousand people killed or kidnapped by Hamas – consequently launching the war in Gaza, and the prolonged campaign of Netenyahu’s government against Hamas and its supporters.
Needless to say, the Israeli response to such an outrageous and devastating attack against civilians has been swift. Combined strategic responses of aerial bombardments, drone strikes, and ground forces swelling into Gaza have been unrelenting, like a jackhammer.
Since October 7th, and the resulting war that followed, social media has erupted with images and videos coming out of Gaza detailing the quite dire humanitarian crisis currently occurring. It’s hard to estimate how many civilians have been killed during the war, but it is likely within the tens of thousands, with more and more adding to the body count as each day passes.
The position of Gaza has also made the situation even more difficult to control, as civilian aid is becoming harder and harder to access through narrow strategic corridors and lack of proper organization and distribution. Vital resources like food, water, and medicine aren’t ending up in the hands of the people that need it the most – if the bombs and the bullets don’t kill the people on the ground, the lack of resources will.
The shock and fury felt across the world after being confronted with this crisis has become a key issue in the West, with countless organized protests at universities and in the streets of capital cities, all demanding that Western nations stop funding the Israelis as they continue their military campaign in the heart of Gaza. This pro-Palestine movement, which is quite broadly supported by those with left-leaning ideologies and intersectionalists, has become an impressive political bloc – especially since it is an election year for both Great Britain and the United States.
Which is frankly quite funny, as most of the people in the pro-Palestine camp, chanting the mantras and songs of Hamas would be shunned by the very same groups they feel the need to protect. In fact, many already have.
Meanwhile, especially amongst “Christian conservatives” in the media and online, there has seemingly been a blank check of support given towards Israel – especially Netenyahu and his Likud government.
After all, Hamas is a terrorist organization, and anything that stops Islamic fundamentalist terror is worth supporting, right? We simply have a moral duty to support Israel, regardless of how blatantly horrific the situation is on the ground. Tax dollars and civilian casualties are a small price to pay for FREEDOM and the protection of “Judeo-Christian” values.
It’s exhausting, but no matter which way you look at it, this will be a defining political issue for the next decade, if not even longer.
And, as always, instead of being able to approach the issue with any level of nuance or recognition that both sides in this conflict seem to be as equally awful and hostile to us as they are to each other, we will once again be put into this binary choice of being “with” or “against” either side. The arguments will be circular, and the cycle of destruction will continue while only a handful of people end up benefiting – mainly weapons contractors and political donor groups.
Before I jump into the beef of this piece, I want to express my outright condemnation of terrorism and terror groups. I feel as if I am obliged – although I think it’s entirely self-evident – to say this, because undoubtedly there will be those who take what I have to say next as an endorsement of Hamas or other fundamentalist Islamic radicals in their war against the State of Israel.
It isn’t. Read the last two paragraphs again if you are confused about where I stand on this issue.
So now that terrorism has been condemned, let’s continue to condemn and reevaluate our unconditional alliance with Israel; because frankly their accusations against Hamas and Palestine is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.
Don’t believe me? I doubt many have had the chance to delve deep into this issue, so let’s start with a little history lesson, shall we?
To understand the Israel of today, you don’t just go back to the partition of Palestine and founding of the State of Israel in 1947, you have to go back a little further in the century, back when the land we now know as Israel was a part of the Ottoman Empire.
Back at the start of the 20th century, when the world was rapidly changing, and revolutionary attitudes were spreading like wildfires, small groups of militias and rebels were beginning to emerge in Palestine.
“In fire and blood did Judea fall; in blood and fire Judea shall rise” was the motto of the group known as Bar-Giora (later “Hashomer”).
Originally this paramilitary organization’s goal was to defend Jewish settlements in the Ottoman Empire from attacks by local Arab populations.
Seems noble enough at first glance, and perhaps it was in intention, but this paramilitary organization, which was led by young, often Marxist-aligned rebels, did not just intend to play defense, but rather grow strong enough and large enough that they could create an effective offense against their Arab neighbors. And judging by their slogan, one can piece together that they weren’t exactly willing to compromise or negotiate peacefully in order to fulfill their goals of establishing permanent Jewish settlements in the region.
After World War One, as the British took control of Palestine, thus leading many members of Bar-Giora/Hashomer to join the Jewish Legion of the British Army in Palestine, as well as assuming positions in the local, British-backed law enforcement.
During the Arab riots of 1920-21, many Jewish settlements and Palestinian Jews suffered attacks at the hands of Palestinian Muslims. Believing that the British were unwilling, or unable, to confront the Muslim majority, these now formally-trained soldiers splintered off and founded “Haganah”.
Haganah went from being a rather unorganized militia to a funded, armed, and large underground army within a matter of years, and would serve as the foundation for what we see as the IDF today.
Again, while noble in intentions – to protect Jewish settlements – you’re only as good as the bad apples in the basket. It didn’t take long for splinter groups to form out of Haganah, namely Irgun, Palmach, and Lehi.
These groups all had a common resentment towards the British authorities – especially because of the White Paper declarations in 1922 and 1939 that sought to limit the amount of Jewish Europeans emigrating to Palestine, in order to not disrupt relations with the local Palestinians and allow for a slow-bleed assimilation of Jews into the region.
An idealistic approach, and perhaps a fool’s venture – but given the current state of things in the region, I’m sure the policymakers of the Empire had good reason to do so.
Palmach was a more formidable armed force, which was allied with the British in WWII and fought against Axis powers in the region. Eventually, after the war, the British ordered that the independent Palmach was disbanded, but operations simply moved underground, and Palmach found a new enemy with the British Mandate – they conducted several operations, including bridge bombings and night-time raids, against British assets in the region – all in response to the White Paper policies.
Irgun started in the late 1930’s as an offshoot of Haganah, and much like Haganah was initially a defensive force. However, after a prolonged period of Arab attacks and Irgun-conducted reprisals, the organization became more focused on arming, training, and conducting operations against anyone deemed a threat – this included the British authorities, who were trying to control the anarchy and fighting that was constantly breaking out in Palestine between factions of Jews and Arabs.
Lehi was founded by Yair Stern as a splinter of Irgun, and was composed of the more radical and violent Zionists of the time – some of whom even sought alliances with Hitler and Mussolini as they saw the British as a larger threat to their existence. They were self-described terrorists, as outlined in their underground newspaper, He Khazit;
Neither Jewish ethics nor Jewish tradition can disqualify terrorism as a means of combat. We are very far from having any moral qualms as far as our national war goes. We have before us the command of the Torah, whose morality surpasses that of any other body of laws in the world: “Ye shall blot them out to the last man.”
Charming mantra, to say the least.
Now, let’s take a look at a couple of notable examples of Zionist terrorism at the time, such as the King David Hotel Bombing.
The attack, which took place in July 1946, was carried out because the hotel was the headquarters of the central offices of the British Mandatory authorities of Palestine, as well as the British Army in the region. The bombing was in retaliation of the British conducting search and seizure operations of arms against the Jewish Agency in Palestine and to stop Palmach sabotage operations.
This attack claimed the lives of 91 people – Arabs, Jews, and indeed Britons – as well as injuring 46 others.
Another example, shall we?
The Deir Yassin Massacre – April 9th, 1948. Igrun and Lehi fighters raided the village of Deir Yassin in the morning, killing civilians with hand grenades and guns, indiscriminately. Around 110 villagers, including women and children were killed in the attack – some of whom were kidnapped and paraded in the streets of West Jerusalem before being executed.The village was then seized, the rest of the villagers expelled, and the village was renamed Givat Shaul.
How about political assassinations?
Walter Guinness, The Lord Moyne, was shot and killed in Cairo along with his chauffeur on the 6th of November 1944 by two members of the Lehi terrorist organization. Guinness was targeted as he was seen as responsible for Britain’s policy in Palestine, and was accused of being sympathetic to the Arabs.
Or, Folke Bernadotte – Swedish diplomat and a man who almost single handedly negotiated the release of 450 Danish Jews and thousands of other prisoners from the Theresienstadt Concentration Camp during WWII. Folke was appointed to be the UN Security Council’s mediator for the Arab-Israeli conflict, and was shot and killed by Lehi members while conducting his duties to end the conflict.
There are many, many more examples of explicit acts of terrorism, targeted assassinations, kidnappings, and other quite ghastly actions conducted by these radical Zionist groups, but now I think it would be constructive to see the legacy that these groups left, and a few notable Israelis were sympathetic, or a part of these organizations.
After the assassination of Folke Bernadotte, Lehi was formally disbanded and its members were arrested by the now established State of Israel. Happy ending, right? Wrong!
Lehi members were given a general amnesty right before the 1949 election, and in 1980 the Israeli government commissioned a military decoration named after the group, called the Lehi Ribbon, an “award for activity in the struggle for the establishment of Israel”.
Irgun, the group responsible for the King David Hotel bombing, was absorbed into the newly created IDF in 1948. While the paramilitary organization was formally disbanded in 1949, its members would later become the founders of the Herut Party – Herut would later merge into the Likud Party, one of the largest political parties in Israel, and the party that currently holds power.
David Ben-Gurion, 1st Prime Minister of Israel, supported the bombing of the King David Hotel, although later he publicly condemned it. While Ben-Gurion was a leader of the Jewish Agency, he did little to help the British in stopping the operations of Lehi and Irgun.
Menachem Begin, 6th Prime Minister of Israel, was an active member of Irgun, and became a commander of the terrorist organization in 1943. He was the founder of the Herut Party in 1948 (which later became known as “Likud”).
Yitzhak Shamir, 7th Prime Minister of Israel, was a leader of the Lehi terrorist group during its operational years. Shamir was responsible for plotting the assassination of Lord Moyne, and of Folke Bernadotte during his tenure as the leader of Lehi. In 1955, he joined Mossad, where he orchestrated Operation Damocles – targeted assassination of German rocket scientists assisting Egypt’s missile program.
Fascinating, to say the least. Some absolutely dreadful people, who ended up in the highest office of their country, and, somehow, allied with Britain, the very power they sought to expel from their nation. I can only imagine how awkward those Israeli meetings with the various Prime Ministers of the UK must have been – that is, of course, if those Prime Ministers had actually known or cared about what crimes these people were responsible for, and the British blood that they shed in order to achieve their goals.
Because, fundamentally, this nation is hostile. Not only to its immediate neighbors in the Middle East, but to us in the West as well.
Does anyone in their right mind think that almost a century of ideology, propaganda and leadership by vehemently anti-British, and by extension anti-Western political figureheads and former terrorists somehow is just washed away with time?
It is ludicrous that somehow, the political party that is in power, which was founded by the very terrorists who conspired and successfully carried out attacks against the British, has simply forgotten or somehow changed its foundational core values.
These roots run deep – and by observing the current administration of the Israeli government, we can see that the most important positions are occupied by hardcore, uncompromising Zionists who undoubtedly share the same values as their predecessors.
If this was an issue which was only relegated to the Middle East, I doubt anyone in the West would need to care. But unfortunately, due to the billions of dollars of donations from Israeli-aligned political groups, the billions of dollars of weapons deals done with Israel, and the overindulgent culture of philo-Semitism in Western governments, we in the West are unfortunately tethered to this country, its issues, and the repetitive cycle of destruction and death that it generates.
We are told that we have a moral obligation to support Israel, out of vague notions of protecting the “only functional democracy in the Middle East”, or through beating the drum of Holocaust guilt that, somehow, if we don’t stand by Israel and its campaigns of “self-determination” (i.e. constant expansion) we are somehow antisemites and no better than the Nazis.
Our governments even flirt with, if not having already passed legislation, that will limit our free speech in our countries if we dare criticize the Israelis for taking their war and destruction against a severely outgunned Palestine as being a little too far. The United States House just recently passed a bill that would severely curtail the ability to criticize Israel and its actions, under the guise of trying to stop anti-semitism on college campuses.
Especially on the cusp of important elections in the UK and the United States, how can any patriotic, nationally-minded voter bring themselves to the ballot box and vote for politicians and parties that are so explicitly Zionist that they take their mandatory trip to the Wailing Wall as soon as they are elected for a photo op and a corny declaration of allegiance to a foreign nation?
So here we are. Our fates tied to the ambitions of a small nation in the desert. While they continue to expand violently and push outward, as was the vision of the founders of their country, we in the West are meant to just sit back, and fork over our tax dollars to let it happen over some very unclear obligation that we are told we have.
Israel has demonstrated that it is only willing to participate in a friendship with the West that is one-sided; where they reap the benefits of lucrative weapons deals and endless political support while giving no concessions or compromise in return. Outwardly showing resentment to the hand that feeds it when something as simple as a ceasefire is asked for so that the humanitarian crisis on the ground can be properly dealt with.
If we are to look at this in a completely pragmatic sense in regards to foreign policy, we gain nothing from continuing to unconditionally support a historically hostile entity, and we lose nothing if we are to cut these imaginary ties and treat them as we treat any other nation.
There’s an old saying, “With friends like these, who needs enemies?”.
Thankfully, especially amongst younger voters – both liberal and conservative – many are already starting to reevaluate that unquestioning love for a foreign nation that has a long and violent history towards its current allies.
