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Anthropology Film Free-For-All History

Radical Farce

September 10, 2024 103 Comments

In the comments following this, on the proposed reality show Zoe Meets The Murgatroyds, Nikw211 replied,

I would dearly love to see (but only with a director such as Vanessa Engle).
Vanessa Engle’s three-part documentary series Lefties, aired in 2006, is still among my favourites. With a mix of archive footage and modern-day interviews, the leftism of the 70s and 80s is captured in all of its staggering glory. For those who haven’t seen the series, it is quite revealing – and often darkly funny.

Among the gems to savour are the endless factional disputes over exactly how capitalism should be toppled, feats of farcical mismanagement, an earnest exposition on “penile imperialism,” and interviews with former self-styled radicals, now sitting by private swimming pools, fretting about fridge ownership, or planning to work on llama farms.

For those with an interest in history, or indeed obliviousness, the three episodes are linked below.

Property is Theft.

The questionable pleasures of communal living. Specifically, a squatted street in Brixton. Contains scenes of waiting for utopia to materialise. And biohazard crockery. Oh, and the primal screaming commune at number 12.

Angry Wimmin.

In which, we’re told that lesbianism is an ideological duty, and that any woman can be a lesbian if she just tries hard enough, is mentored, and embraces the right kind of politics. A claim that has a somewhat self-serving quality, given the people making it.

A Lot of Balls.

The tale of a bewilderingly inept attempt in 1987 to launch a radical left wing tabloid, fuelled by the fever-dreams of Cambridge Marxists. The project was, unsurprisingly, a disaster, with its failure a direct result of ideological pretension. As illustrated by the scene in which, with the paper’s first edition about to go to press, most of the staff is out of the office on a deafness awareness day.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Reading time: 1 min
Written by: David
Anthropology TV

No, Wait, Hear Me Out

September 8, 2024 100 Comments

Lifted from the comments, an idea for late-night viewing. First, some context is in order, but do let me know what you think.

It began with some rumblings on common progressive attitudes regarding crime and recidivism. Not least a practised unrealism and the failure to acknowledge just how different the mental landscape of the criminal demographic can be:

Those mouthing progressive positions on crime and social disorder very often have limited personal exposure to the creatures they so ostentatiously excuse. They are unlikely to have grown up among them or to have had them living next door. And so, with little formative experience of the type, false assumptions accumulate.

Among which, these.

It’s worth noting that the field of academic criminology, in which unrealism and excuses are pretty much the default, is notoriously left-tilted, here and overseas, with liberals and radical leftists outnumbering conservative colleagues by a ratio of around 30:1.

And it occurs to me that people in high-status professions, including legal professions, are more likely to have internalised high-status opinions, mouthed as a kind of social jewellery. According to which, the creatures treating us as mere prey – suckers from whom things can be taken – are the ones most deserving of our sympathy and indulgence.

Pretentious sympathy, of course. But still.

And so, we have competitively activist legal professionals, such as Mr Clive Stafford Smith, a man who believes that the wellbeing of burglars is more important than the wellbeing of their numerous victims, especially if the burglar is a “young black person.” And who regards anger at being burgled and the subsequent sense of violation as plebeian and unsophisticated, while disdaining the victims’ expectations of justice as, and I quote, “idiotic attitudes.”

Such views passing entirely unchallenged in the inevitable, rather fawning Guardian profile. A profile in which Mr Stafford Smith chides and insults the victims of burglary, and the law-abiding generally, while offering excuses for those who break into strangers’ homes and steal their belongings, and who do this over and over again.

Mr Stafford Smith goes on to boast that he dislikes Conservative voters much more than criminals, and Ms Decca Aitkenhead, his Guardian interviewer, claps along approvingly. As if rhetorically minimising crime and its effects – say, on the elderly who find their homes violated and stripped of any valuables – were somehow a credential, proof of their own elevation. There’s a weirdly demented quality, one that’s not acknowledged as much as it should be.

At which point, I was reminded of the Guardian‘s own Zoe Williams, who scolds those who would rather not live next door to thieving, feral neighbours – say, the kinds of creatures who blast out loud music at 3am, and who hurl pets from upstairs windows:

According to Zoe, we should be “unstigmatising,” which is to say, non-judgmental. A result of which is that empathy, or feigned empathy, is shifted from the working-class victim of crime and antisocial behaviour to the working-class perpetrator of crime and antisocial behaviour, on grounds that the thug or criminal is in some way being oppressed and, unlike their neighbours, being made to misbehave.

Presumably Ms Williams’ own neighbours have little in common with, say, the delightful Stuart Murgatroyd, a father of twelve who has never worked and boasts an extensive criminal record, not least for robbing the elderly in graveyards, and whose attempt to challenge an Anti Social Behaviour Order was cut short at the very last minute due to him being arrested for assaulting the mother of his children, herself a convicted getaway driver, on the steps of the courthouse.

And I suspect our infinitely compassionate Ms Williams has yet to experience an all-night, full-on, eleven-hour rave being hosted next door, which would doubtless give her an opportunity to practise that non-judgmental piety.

As I can tell you’re curious, here’s Mr Murgatroyd with three of his twelve children. Everyone in the photo has been subject to Antisocial Behaviour Orders for repeatedly terrorising their neighbours.

Here’s Mr Murgatroyd exchanging views with the mother of his children:

So, with the above in mind, here’s the pitch.

Imagine, if you will, a reality TV show of perhaps a dozen episodes, in which, having been banished from their current council-house digs, the Murgatroyds move in next door to Zoe Williams, our Guardian columnist and champion of the downtrodden – albeit, until now, from a safe distance. Would we be treated to heart-warming chats across the garden fence, and exchanged cups of sugar, while the families’ respective children – Zoe’s are named Thurston and Harper – have jolly times together?

As a real-world test of Zoe’s scrupulously progressive worldview, one shared widely by her peers, it would, I think, make for instructive viewing.

And as svh suggests in the comments, “She deserves no less.”

Update, via the comments:

Picturing the scenario above – Zoe Meets The Murgatroyds – does rather reveal the absurdity of her pretence. But this pretence is far from uncommon among professed egalitarians. It’s a fantasy world, quite laughable in its dishonesty. Unless we’re to believe that Zoe, dear caring Zoe, would be thrilled to have violent morons moving in next door to her.

And yet she and her colleagues tell us that any effort to remove such ‘problem families’ or to inhibit their malevolence – so that their neighbours might have some semblance of a normal life – is “dehumanising,” a “demonization of the poor,” and is merely “trying to shunt people out of society for not being rich enough.” As if the victims of the Murgatroyd family, and any number of others just like them, weren’t people whose resources were also modest. As if the law-abiding targets of their sociopathy weren’t almost always working class.

Again,

A result of which is that empathy, or feigned empathy, is shifted from the working-class victim of crime and antisocial behaviour to the working-class perpetrator of crime and antisocial behaviour, on grounds that the thug or criminal is in some way being oppressed and, unlike their neighbours, being made to misbehave.

But such is Zoe’s concern for the common man.

And do note the conspicuous flattening of values, the equalising of victims and victimiser, the quite literal demoralisation.

Apparently, we shouldn’t register any meaningful difference between that nice Mrs Wilson, who doesn’t have much but is always friendly and obliging, and the laughing ferals who trashed her tiny flat, nicked her pension, and pissed all over her carpets and furniture.

And they call this being progressive.

Guardian columnists, and progressives in general, don’t seem particularly interested in the functional working class. Their greatest enthusiasm, and their most ambitious contrivance, seems reserved for the feckless and dysfunctional, the pathologically selfish, the incorrigibly criminal. That’s when we get displays of what amounts to a perverse art form.

Part of the reason, I suspect, is that there’s little in-group status to be had in pretending to care about functional people of modest means. Instead, they pretend to care about more exotic demographics. And so, among progressives, we get pretentious compassion for unrepentant and habitual thieves, habitual burglars, habitually criminal drivers. Because needlessly endangering the lives of others is now a basis for excuses, sympathy, and applause.

Oh, and dog thieves and armed muggers. Obviously.

And once you register this pattern, this weird convolution, it does seem to crop up quite a lot.

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Reading time: 6 min
Written by: David
Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (735)

September 6, 2024 172 Comments

You first. || For the latest eye-colour fashion. || Fortresses, palaces and perched churches, a thread. || Could you survive a nanosecond on the Sun? || Well, really. || Make way. || Well, you would. || Namibian waterhole livestream. || How to climb volcanoes. || Will Newquay ban beatniks? || Is language dumbing down? || Our betters wring their hands. || Obligatory crotch grab. || Grooming scenes. || “I can’t even imagine what parent would buy this for their daughter, a child under five years old.” I can. || Incoming. || An excess of dramatic tension. || Help/hazard ratio. || Is your blue my blue? || How snakes move. || Atomic trampoline. Making one isn’t easy. || Today’s word is professionalism. || Sunfish of size. || And finally, from questions asked back in 1975: Are aliens abducting England’s dogs?

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Written by: David
Reheated

Reheated (97)

September 4, 2024 102 Comments

For newcomers, some items from the archives:

Your Standards Are Holding You Back.

Dating platform for Brooklyn’s hipster socialists is not entirely successful.

It seems that the ladies and gents who feel compelled to announce their revolutionary ambitions, and their pronouns, and various mental health issues, aren’t meeting quotas for finding each other attractive…

Ms Isser’s indignation at the thought of socialist women being romantically shunned, even by fellow socialists, was aired in December in a Twitter howling session, during which extensive use was made of exclamation marks. After much exasperated rumbling, Ms Isser concluded that the fault must lie solely with men, and that “straight men are shallow and sexist even when they’re socialists.” Thereby proving that, contrary to legend, ladies of the left are in no way high-maintenance or difficult to please.

“Our politics reflect who we are!!!!!” said she, loudly. Which is rather the problem, I think.

The Put-Upon And Marginalised Finally Get A Word In.

Come, let us peek at the Culture pages of the Guardian.

The above is, we’re told, “a modern symbol of the LGBTQI+ community.” And so, while claiming to give exposure to the supposedly marginalised and unseen, the virtuous by default, the curators are expecting visitors to be enthralled by objects of mass-produced banality that are, by their own admission, utterly ubiquitous…

“Queer stories are so seldom told in museums,” says Jennie Grady, who has worked on the exhibition.

Regarding the aforementioned seldomness, I briefly scanned recent listings and found that the museums and galleries busily “queering” their content include the British Museum (“Desire, Love, Identity: Exploring LGBTQ Histories”), the Victoria and Albert Museum (“A Queer History of Art”), Tate Britain, Tate Kids, Queer Britain (“A riot of voices, objects, and images from the worlds of activism, art, culture, and social history”), Brighton Museum, the London Art Fair, the Glasgow Women’s Library, the Museum of Transology, the Museum of London, National Museums Liverpool, National Museums Scotland, and the National Portrait Gallery.

So seldom. So terribly seldom.

Other vigorously “queered” content can be found at New York’s Whitney Museum of American Art; the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam; and the Wellcome Collection, London, which among other things offers a “queer life-drawing workshop… focussing on queer bodies.” I have, due to space concerns – and the fear that readers may lose the will to live – omitted many more.

Yes, But Where Are My Novelty Breasts?

Convicted paedophile demands pampering, women’s undies.

Despite this seemingly intermittent maleness, Mr Sonia has launched a lawsuit against staff at both the Washington Department of Corrections and his previous male prison, citing “cruel and unusual punishment.” Specifically, a failure to provide, at taxpayer expense, “breast augmentation” and “hair removal of the face, neck and jaw,” which is, we’re told, of “paramount importance.” And a lack of which allegedly results in “severe emotional anguish.”

Depending, one assumes, on whether Mr Sonia claims to be a man or a woman on any given day.

Indigenous Land Acknowledgement.

Or, Landscape Paintings Now Deemed Problematic, Racist.

The problem, we’re told, is that paintings from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries are “leaving very little room for representations of people of colour.” And obviously, even the past must be made “inclusive and representative.” Which seems to mean that we must all pretend that our islands’ population and cultural assumptions have always looked like those of, say, twenty-first century London, a city whose demographics bear little relationship to those of the country as a whole, even in the twenty-first century.

It occurs to me that notions of racial “representation” will likely be distorted by the embrace of rather parochial progressive conceits, and by proximity to the nation’s capital, which in my lifetime has gone from a native white-majority city, over 90%, to a native white-minority one, around 35%, and which is wildly out of step with the rest of the nation. Things that are denounced as “horribly white,” or whatever the current term of disapproval is, may not seem so to people who live in, say, Chesterfield or Plymouth…

The supposedly corrective fretting starts with a dubious, arbitrary assumption – that all racial groups should be visiting the museum in some given ratio, even though they choose not to. Those doing the fretting then set about insulting the people who do visit the museum by claiming that the things they have travelled to see, and with which they may feel some affinity, may result in “dark… nationalist feelings” and other unspeakable beastliness. By liking landscape paintings, they risk moral corruption.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Reading time: 3 min
Written by: David
History Problematic Taxidermy

Long Live King Victor

September 3, 2024 55 Comments

Via Mr Muldoon, a guide to finding ‘Pride’ in the taxidermy collection of Manchester Museum:

Have you found everything on our Pride Trail yet? 🏳️‍🌈

To Celebrate Manchester Pride we’re shining a spotlight on stories in our museum that speak to today’s LGBTQ+ community.

Here’s Nick with more about why there are so many more males than females in our taxidermy collection. pic.twitter.com/ovcDGbKwUU

— Manchester Museum (@McrMuseum) August 21, 2024

Whether taxidermied birds will in fact, as claimed, “speak to today’s LGBTQ+ community,” and prompt some radical and liberating mental uplift, remains something of a mystery. Still, at least we’ve been made aware of Nick’s fabulist pronouns, and her – sorry, them’s – badge collection. Manchester Museum is, sadly and perhaps inevitably, blocking enquiries and replies from those not pre-approved:

Apparently, the initial comments from the public, including museum visitors, were not the unanimous affirmation that was expected. An expectation that in itself is somewhat revealing. It does rather suggest a mindset, a bubble. And hence the rush to clamp down on unauthorised opinions.

Among which, the opinion that bemoaning the evils of “cis, straight, white men” may require a more solid pretext than the fact that Victorian collectors and taxidermists used for display the most eye-catching specimens they could find.

Similarly, any suggestion that the positioning of some stuffed male birds slightly higher than the females – so that their sexes might more readily be grasped by visitors – is hardly a basis for indignation, or indeed woke job creation.

And remember,

Having the children is really solidifying that nuclear family, that was a big thing back then.

A stable structure for raising offspring. How terribly unfashionable.

Readers will doubtless recall the likeminded “queering” of Portsmouth’s Mary Rose Museum, home of all things Tudor, where visitors were informed, with some satisfaction, that, “Many objects can be viewed through a Queer lens and can indirectly tell LGBTQ+ stories.”

The word indirectly was, it turned out, doing some heavy lifting. And so, those curious about the favourite warship of Henry VIII were shown a mirror salvaged from the wreck, and were told how mirrors in general can induce psychological crises in the sexually dysmorphic. Because, obviously, when you’ve travelled across the country to learn about Tudor England, the first thing you want to know is that reflective surfaces can upset men who pretend to be women.

A display of sailors’ nit combs was likewise accompanied by a reminder that, “for many Queer people today, how we wear our hair is a central pillar of our identity.”

Yes, I know. Breath-taking stuff. The bleeding edge. Those with a taste for cack-handed incongruity will find much to marvel at.

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Written by: David
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In which we marvel at the mental contortions of our self-imagined betters.