Burma

I probably pay less attention than I should to the political goings-on of the world. This is partly because the Western media can't be wholly relied upon for facts. Thank god it's a free media - I recognise the importance of that. But nevertheless each outlet, be it TV or newspaper or website, has it's views and style and agenda. Who does one listen to? The voice that rings truest to ones principles? Isn't that just preaching to the converted and providing one with neat soundbites to regurgiate during political conversations? I suppose the answer is to find the voice that seems the most balanced, or read all sides and reach ones own conclusions, and that is something I haven't invested adequate time in yet. But still the problem remains on some level - how can one be sure of balance?

What gets me most about the media, though, concerns the decisions as to what is newsworthy. Whose plight, out of the hundreds of millions of people with legitimate, desparate plights, is deemed important enough to tell the world about? Who makes these decisions, and on what basis? Of course, the answers are out there in communications policies and media studies, but whatever they are the fact remains that we are dictated to by the media - we are told what we will pay attention to. And meanwhile, those people whose stories are deemed less important fall by the wayside. Of course everyone living in a country with free press and access to adequate resources can investigate whatever they choose, but this isn't necessarily a realistic view of the media - free or otherwise. How many people will become aware of and choose to investigate Indonesia's repression and genocide in West Papua, for instance, compared to Saddam Husseins military regime?

So it is with a certain sense of joy that I see the brave and timely demonstrations in Burma at the top of the headlines in most of the media. Burma was a country I verged on visiting and that I bordered several times. I've met many people who've been, so I have secondary information about the country, its people, its society and the state it is in. I have experienced first hand some of Buddhist South East Asia and have developed a deep respect for the cultural traditions and history of the area. That the Burmese plight has been ignored by the press grates me as I have been closer to it than I have to the Middle East. So I am delighted that the voice of the Burmese people has now been deemed important enough for mass exposure.

Today, Burma was revealed as the most corrupt country in the world by the organisation Transparency. It's brutal military junta are responsible for inconceivable repression and greed. In 1988 they massacred 3,000 people who were peacefully demonstrating for basic human rights and democracy. Now, 20 years on, the monks are leading a new wave of marches across the country and normal Burmese people are joining them. This line of pacifists face the brutish might of the military and, to tie this post in with the ones I wrote about spirituality, I see the stand they are making as testimony to the good that religion/spirituality can do for a nation. The people revere the monks, the junta know they will face severe consequences if they repeat the actions of 1988 and the monk's Buddhism means they are interested only in peaceful, non-violent protest. And despite the threats, guns and tear gas, they are carrying on. To cap it all, the world's media is watching for once. To take an optimistic view, this could be a welcome leap towards revolution.

Huge respect and good luck to the people of Burma.

Just imagine...

...if the Jungle Brothers and the Chuckle Brothers swapped lives. Go on, take 10 seconds out to really think about it.

Fucking weird, eh?

right, left, right, left

Unsurprisingly, Gabrielle's new single isn't very good, and usually it would pass me by completely undetected, but as the following BBC article shows, it makes an interesting case study.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/7004174.stm

It features a 'poduction' mix that is tailored towards MP3 players and headphone listening. The remixers, apparently, listened to the top 50 best songs according to Rolling Stone magazine, and picked up a few tips from them - namely, the use of a very wide stereo mix. They also spoke to da yoof and discovered how they enjoy a good stereo split so you can hear distinctly different things in each headphone.

Listening to the 2 versions of the song, I can indeed hear a clear difference between the album and iPod versions. But rather than finding the iPod version better for headphone listening, the stark panning of the beat and bass to the right makes the song sound severely wonky to me. Something as fundemental to a tune as the rhythm and bass should, in my book, be central in the mix, or neatly spread accross it. To lump it all over to one side unbalances things way too much for me.

Personal opinion aside, it's interesting that the way they went about tailoring the song for headphones was to use such old-school stereo techniques. I think (and I should really research it but hey,) that music produced in the earlier days of stereo was panned with, say, guitars hard left and vocals hard right because it was designed to be listened to on carefully placed home speakers. Therefore when you listened (preferably central to the speakers) your ears 'merged' the two sounds and it appeared fuller and wider. Also, you got reverberations or images from the other speaker bouncing around the room and into the other ear, further fleshing out the overall sound.

So to use such techniques on a mix meant for headphones, where such aural trickery is impossible, seems bizarre and misplaced to me. My MP3 player actually has a 'stereo compensation' feature, which adds a slight reverb of the left channel to the right one, and vice versa, so you're not listening to such split-down-the-middle music through your headphones.

Still if da kids like it, then who am I to argue!

Spiritual Sense

When I was travelling a few years ago I underwent a 10 day trek in West Papua, a truly remote province of Indonesia covered in dense, (mostly) untouched rain forest and scattered with tribes only 'discovered' by the West in the 1940's or later. The trek was the most intense thing I've ever undergone, mentally and physically. More so the former, for the body obeys when there's no other choice - when you're 5 days into the back of beyond and your guide says you must walk for another 5 hours without stopping to reach shelter, you do it. But, as I discovered, the mind obeys in similar ways when devoid of other choices.

I think it was about day 6 or 7 that we were due to tackle the mountain. In order not to retread too much ground we had planned to come around the mountain and go back over the top. The mountain was an imposing 3600m and the guide and porters were eager to rest for a day, but myself and my trek-mate Alex were keen to hit the road so as to avoid an additional days pay and to keep on schedule. Us being the bosses, we pressed on.

We soon hit the mountain and the ascent began. Ever-steepening, zig zagging paths cut their way up, the peak looming above, impossibly high and out of reach, never seeming to get any closer. The paths got more and more trecherous, rocky and slippery and we often had to traverse otherwise unpassable cliff faces via slimey, dangerous, cobbled together wooden ladders. Rain was ever threatening - a storm was chasing us up but just keeping at bay.

I was exhausted early on and while my legs and arms automatically kept me in motion, I had to work on keeping my mind working with me. The previous day had been torrential - a non stop tropical downpour making the going miserable and hard. I had spent the day mentally cursing the jungle. "Is this all you've got?!" I jeered in an attempt to bolster my willpower and strength. The jungle answered by sending more rain and more puddles and more lethal crossings. Today, though, I tuned my thoughts in to the environment. I thanked the jungle for showing me a fleeting flower, that moment of beauty turning my grimace into a smile. I thanked the sky for keeping the rain away. I thanked the mountain for presenting the right foot falls and hand holds. By staying respectful and knowing my place, I believed I was helping myself rather than bringing on more hardship and angering the jungle as per the day before. I truly believed that.

Soon after we'd set off up the mountain, we were overtaken by a couple from the village we'd just left, carrying their 3 year old. Papuans are a hardy, able, incredible people. They were making the same journey as us back to the port town in order to sell their paltry produce - of course, they'd make it in a third of the time and twice as laden. Plus they were doing it out of necessity, not out of a Western craving for the exotic and extreme. The man stopped periodically and shouted something into the air before climbing on, and soon my guide answered my silent question about his purpose.

"If they were not here, the rain would come", he explained. "He is doing ritual for the offerings at the top of the mountain to keep the wild dogs and rain away. We lucky - if they were not here, the rain would come. Really! Very dangerous. People who don't make offering die at top."

It turned out that the mountain was a feared place of ghosts and supersticion. The locals who had to pass over it passified the twin dangers of weather and wild dogs, or faced death. I gave genuine thanks for the presence of the villagers.

When we finally reached the plateau at the top, weary but excstatic with achievement, Alex and I expected a lunch break. But instead we saw the porters literally running, laden with baggage, over the eerie, mist shrouded plain that unfolded before us.

"They scared. Can't stop here, must keep going. When you see stick in ground, it means person who made no offering died there", Nico the guide explained.

Bewildered, we trudged on through hardy grasses, cracked ground, ancient palms and moss covered rocks. And indeed, interspersed in this alien landscape were sticks, thrust into the ground, marking the point at which a villager persihed. I was taking photographs as we went, but something told me to stop up here. I swallowed the something, though, and took another shot. At that second, the sky foresook us and the rain came down in torrents. Subsequently, my camera remained in my bag until the mountain was behind us.

The plateau took hours to cross, but when we reached the other side there was a nourishing snack and a warming smoke to be had. The porters were visibly calmer and relieving camaraderie at our surviving the treacherous ordeal took hold. My sense of achievement was immense - I had climbed a 3600m mountain in adverse weather conditions in the middle of a hopelessly remote jungle after walking for 8 hours a day for the last week. I had overcome physical and mental barriers and done something I would never have thought possible until that day. And I had learnt something about myself and the universe in the process.

That day, I understood supersticion. That day, I believed in spirits and the need to passify them through ritual. That day I had a glimpse of a worldview that is debunked by anyone who is used to surviving without incident, anyone who knows they will not starve or freeze. I tuned into something utterly instinctive and it kept me going. It kept the rain away, it kept me from slipping, it integrated me with the environment and gave me understanding when there was no rational alternative. For a few hours that day, I was as spiritual/religious/supersticious as the ancient tribespeople around me.

Spiritual Nonsense

I've just belatedly seen Richard Dawkin's latest 2 part TV rant. The first one, 'Root of all Evil', was aimed at organised religion and a rather fabulous book, 'The God Delusion', followed. This program, 'Enemies of Reason', looked at irrational supersticious practices such as tarot, faith healing and spiritualism.

The main thrust of Enemies of Reason was that these practices are unproven and based on personal assertation rather than evidence. This is harmless enough on the surface, but it has the knock-on effect of giving false hope, debasing science and scientists, proliferating potentially dangerous conspiracy theories, turning science into a dirty word and causing distrust of medicine and progress.

Now, there's something that doesn't sit quite right about these programs, and many people level accusations at him and his beliefs such as "he's as fundamental as the people he attacks" or "science is the new religion". I admit that this was my initial response, too. But having watched the programs and read the book and really thought about it, boy does he have a point. This point is timely and salient, and this is probably why it causes such a strong, defensive reaction.

First off, although Dawkins is not the greatest presenter, it's about time we had learned, highly intelligent individuals on the telly. Just about any dimwit can get their face on the box these days, so to have perhaps the most celebrated evolutionary biologist since Darwin grace our screens is a step in the right direction. Surely if The Sun is the most read British paper, and half a million people regularly read the inane, weekly drivel in Heat magazine, then a 2 part series by a bonafide Professor is a welcome addition to our cultural pool! It's a shame that he only speaks to one or two similarly learned people - listening to great minds debating is a fulfilling and wonderful thing. Listening to a professor slaying a sweet lady who believes angels are watching over her is cringeworthy. Ah well, such is the state of our media.

Amyway, what he has to say is, perhaps, harder to accept than his mere presence on the screen. He appears to be having a go at normal people, living their lives the way they choose and believing in harmless things that probably benefit them more than they hurt them. Take faith healing for instance. If it works for some folk, even if it is merely a placebo, who cares? Does it matter if it's 'real' or not? I don't think so, and Dawkins at least pays lip service to that point. His main point, however, goes deeper than this and involves the frivolous, un-checked column space and airtime given to unsubstantiated practices such as astrology and alternative healing. For a scientific discovery to be published or broadcast, long and rigorous procedures must be followed in order that the discovery can be backed up with evidence. However, just about anything goes when it comes to practices that are based on personal belief, or faith. Such wanton spreading of the unscientific word belittles science and makes it out to be the bad guy, some kind of malevolent force that is going to ruin the world and take us further away from some perceived but wholly imagined golden age of innocence. Experts become untrustworthy monsters and progress is deemed unnatural.

However, science has probably kept you or someone you love alive. It's probably got you to exotic climes for a holiday. It's enabling you to read this blog (for whatever that's worth!) It's the fuel of what we call progress. And lets be realistic and leave romanticised images of living at one with the land aside, I think we all cherish and wholly rely upon at least parts of Western progress to survive. Granted, it's not always been like that and people do live with the land (albeit in desperately poor conditions for the most part), but where we're at now in the West is not going to be swept away by wishful thinking and naivete, and the answer to the problems that do exist is not to discard science outright as a bad idea.

Bestival

Bestival was last weekend - I can't talk about it for too long because I'll just want to be back there even more than I do already, but I thought I'd better mention what a fantastic festival it was!

There's something about festivals that enables me to shut off the 'real' world completely and easily. This is something I cherish. For the span of a weekend I am a free man, doing what I want to do in (if luck is with us as it was last weekend) glorious sunshine. It's a coming together of the tribes to have a party and dance. Its an ancient practice and a precious one, and I love it - long may it continue!

"Hmm, that would make a good blog post"...

...is something I've thought on about half a dozen occasions recently, then duly failed to post anything thus forgetting the subject in due course. Spazzer. Lets see what I can recall though...

I got back from my holiday to Turkey acouple of weeks ago. It was lovely! Spent 4ish days on fathers yacht, what! Then 3ish days in a nice, cheap house in Turkey that I found to let on gumtree. It was just what the doctor ordered and myself and G had a reinvigorating time in the 40 degree + heat. Coming back was a bit shit though, for 3 reasons:

1) the weather. Say no more.

2) An Argus headline reading 'North Laine rents soar'. Great! That will be due to the architectural 5 minute wonder that is the new library and its desolate 'Jubilee Square' of paving stones, the proliferation of nearby swanky chain restaurants and the recently renamed and padestrianised 'Cultural Quarter' by the Pavilion Gardens. Good good, nice to see the council forcing out the genuinely interesting cultural quirkiness of North Laine in favour of homogenising 'this could be any city in Europe' type development.

3) the sign I saw on George Street that I thought threatened cyclists with a fine if they locked their bike to a post but in actual fact threatened them with a fine for cycling on George Street. Coupled with number 2 (which was observed moments earlier) it gave me a sinking feeling concerning my beloved hometown. But as it turns out I was wrong about the sign's warning and it was merely reinforcing an existing and well known piece of fascist leglislature. That, somehow, softened the blow.

By the way, if you have any comments regarding my previous post about how amazing Brighton is and how this post signifies my coming around and waking up and smelling the proverbial coffee/excrement, you can stick them up your arses! :-)

OK, what else. It's Bestival this weekend! That deserves a shameless

WAHOOOOO!

so it does.

I canny wait! Its about time I got my summer festival fix. The lineup is amazing, theres loads of us going and the forecast is good! Nice. The annoyance of fancy dress is ever present though. To quote Henry 'fancy dress - the best way to turn a party into a hassle'. Yes, I'm now going to have a good old moan about fancy dress. Prepare those feathers for ruffling, dressing up fans! :-p

I think I dislike it partly because, far from removing my inhibitions (a classic argument in its favour), fancy dress draws attention to me that I don't necessarily want. The fact that everyone else is in the same boat doesn't matter - I'd much rather be in my own comfy clothes and blend in unless I choose otherwise. Also, while I enjoy making things, wearing the result usually involves a certain amount of discomfort or hassle and that isn't overcome by the amusement factor for me. I generally find fancy dress mildly smirk-worthy. It's like a novelty record - quite funny on first listen but the joke wears off with repeated visits. So the fact I have to endure a daft, hasslesome costume in order to partake in mildly amusing spectacle sits awkwardly in my grumpy-old-man-before-my-time worldview.

That said, I concede that thousands of people all dressed up at Bestival is pretty funny and quite fun. (Note emphasis on adjectives - I'm not conceeding much:)

Well, I feel I should sign off here before I get even more bitter and tongue in cheek...