Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts

Monday, July 12, 2021

Happiness - A Novel By Aminatta Forna - "People want choices without consequences"

Aminatta Forna's novel starts with a Wolfer killing the last pair of wolves in Greenhampton, Massachusetts  in 1834.  One of the key characters, Jean, carries on that theme by studying coyotes in upstate New York in the 21st Century as well as urban foxes in London.  But this is secondary, though related to the main theme and main character Attila. 

Attila describes his job working in crisis zones around the world.

"'I specialise in trauma, among civilian populations principally,' said Attila.  'Much of my work is as you would imagine.  Teams of us go in, some to count the dead, others to trace the living and return them to where they should be or send them somewhere else.  I work with the survivors.  My job is less to fix the damage than to catalogue the extent of it."

'What happens then?'

'After us?  More reconstruction.  The aid agencies, the people who have won the contracts to fix the roads, mend the dams, repair the bridges.'

'I meant to the victims.'

'We file our reports, they can run to thousands of pages.  Sometimes a perpetrator or two is imprisoned in The Hague.  A few of the survivors will be called as witnesses and have their moment in court.  They get to see some general or president or warlord  whose name they have heard but who they've never laid eyes on put behind bars.  They go there wanting to face the person who tortured them, but that never happens, the system doesn't work like that.  The lawyers argue about chains of command, utmost responsibility.  Those words don't mean anything to the woman whose daughter was taken away or who's son's bones turned up in a ditch he had to dig himself.'  Attila shrugged.  'While all that's happening, somewhere in the world somebody else gets ready to go to war.'

'Wow!' Jean exhaled, not knowing what to say next.  (p. 118)

All that proceeds the next paragraph: 

Attila gave a small wry smile.  'I'm not being cynical, just realistic.  War is in the blood of humans.  The kind of people who torture and rape during war, they're always among us, every time you walk own a busy street you're passing killers waiting to kill.  War gives them license.  We tell ourselves people are ordinarily good, but where is the proof of that?  There are no ordinarily good people, just a lot of people who've never been offered the opportunity to be anything else.  As for the rest, the followers and foot soldiers - well you can't imprison half a nation.  For them and for everyone else life carries on, only not quite as before."(118)

I should add that Attila is a Ghanian psychiatrist who's in London to present a paper at a conference. It's there that Jean bumps into him (literally) while she's jogging over the Waterloo Bridge observing one of her foxes weaving unnoticed through the crowd.  

He goes on, and I had to think of all the white supremacists that Trump has unleashed:

"There was no big secret to war, Attila thought.  There would always be people who relished violence, all they ever needed was a leader and an opportunity.  If someone could unite the gang members of New York or Chicago or London, they could take over their respective cities if that person was the president they could take over the country.  A lot could be achieved by offering young men power and sex."

The book was published in 2018.  Usually books take years to be written, edited, and published, so the odds are good it was started before Trump was seen as a viable candidate, though passages like this could have been edited closer to the publication date.  

The chapters are titled Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, etc. as we follow Attila during the two weeks or so he's in London for the conference.  He and Jean run into each other a couple of times and then team up after Attila goes to see his niece and a neighbor tells him that the niece and her son were taken by immigration.  He tracks down he niece in a hospital bed who was let go because it was a mistaken identity (well, actually, an unscrupulous landlord who reported her as illegal so he could get her out of the apartment and raise the rent), but the boy, who'd been put in a foster home, had run away.  Jean, who's been mapping out sections of the neighborhoods to keep track of her foxes, offers to help find the boy.  Jean has also enlisted the help of night workers - street cleaners, doormen, restaurant workers, many of them Africans) to report fox sightings to her.  She recruits them to help look for the boy.  

After Jean gets ambushed on a talk radio show by the host who believes urban foxes should all be killed - Attila gives her this advice:

"Attila laughed. 'Do you know what a diplomat I once worked with told me?  That in government they are taught to treat the electorate like six-year-olds.  If you ask a member of the voting public a question on any subject most of us can only come up with three words we identify with that thing  The words depend on what our concerns are or what the papers tell us our concerns are. . .

As a retired public administration professor, I assure you I never taught my students to treat the public like six year olds, but then few government employees have public administration degrees.  And thinking about the three words can be useful. 

There are other events and characters in the week and a half that's covered in the book.  And some flashbacks to prior events.  How Jean's marriage fell apart in the States.  Rosie, an old lover of Attila's who's got Alzheimers and is living in a nursing home and Emmanuel, who's bonded with Rosie, through his job at the home as a caregiver.  Attila's dead wife Marysa also hovers over the interwoven plot lines.  

The flashbacks take us back to war zones - either those between humans and wolves and coyotes, or between humans and humans - to give us background on Jean and Attila.

Attila muses about war frequently.

"His mind was on the mission ahead which was not the kind for which he cared a seminar on frontline training  for the military.  Young men giving their bodies and their minds to battle sent by middle-aged men who only ever handled a gun on their weekend duck shoots and men like Attila tasked with the job of trying to keep the young men sane while what they were being asked to do was an insanity itself."

There's also a fair amount of discussion about psychiatry.  Here's one example.

“In Attila’s second year of medical school the psychiatric establishment was rocked by an incendiary laid treacherously by one of their own a psychologist called David Rosenhan,  Rosenhan had attended a lecture by the Scottish psychiatrist Ronald Laing a hard-drinking radical who liked to irritate his peers by challenging psychiatric shibboleths among them the notion that psychiatric diagnoses were objective and could be compared with medical ones  Rosenhan wondered if there were any empirical way to test this assertion and decided to conduct his own experiments  He recruited a group of six volunteers including (alongside several medical professionals) a painter and a housewife and himself as the seventh  Each volunteer was detailed to ring one of several psychiatric hospitals and to request an appointment, to which they presented themselves unwashed and unshaved.  They were to describe hearing voices.  Nothing too dramatic and always the same words, ‘Empty’, ‘Hollow’, ‘Thud’.  All but one of the volunteers was admitted, after which the six, in accordance with their instructions, behaved perfectly normally and told staff the voices had gone away.  Nevertheless the participants were held for an average of nineteen days, and one poor soul was kept inside for fifty-two.  When eventually they were discharged each of the patients was described not as sane or cured but ‘in remission’.  In every case the only people who suspected the volunteers of being perfectly sane frauds were other patients.” (pp 229-230)

Rosenhan was a real person.  The experiment was real.  Though Wikipedia has the details slightly different and cites cites Susannah Cahalan who challenges that it happened.  Here's an NPR review of Cahalan's book, The Great Pretender.  

I'm close to the end of the book and finding it fascinating, in no small part because many of the characters are part of an African immigrant underclass in London, taking on low level service jobs.  It's a part of London I'm much less familiar with.  

"Aminatta Forna was born in Scotland, raised in Sierra Leone and Great Britain and spent periods of her childhood in Iran, Thailand and Zambia. She is the award-winning author of the novels Happiness, The Hired Man, The Memory of Love and Ancestor Stones, and a memoir The Devil that Danced on the Water, and the forthcoming essay collection, The Window Seat: Notes from a Life in Motion."

As I near the final pages, I'd say the book is about the human need to control.  To control the world, to control nature, to control others.  This is demonstrate by how psychiatrists try to control mental illness by categorizing and then treating it. By how people try to control the uncontrollable by killing it - culling urban foxes, refusing to listen to Jean who has been studying the fox behavior and who says that just killing them won't work. 

From Ayo, one of the immigrants in Jean's team of fox watchers:

"Cannot become rich from [foxes], cannot control them, not even kill them.  That's why the foxes make some people angry.  The problem with those people is that they themselves have forgotten they are alive."

A career diplomat echoes that theme.  He's holding a snow globe given him long ago by his daughter:

"'This is how most people want to live.'  He put his hand out for the [snow] globe and Attila handed it to him.  Quell held it up to the light.  'They want to be safe, they want to be comfortable.  They want to believe that they are in control of their lives, and they want that thing we call freedom.  It all comes at a price, but don't you dare mention that.  People want choices without consequences.  And we give it to them, fools that we are.  We are the "somebody" people who have no bloody intention of doing anything themselves mean when they say somebody must do something.  I blame books, films, all that nonsense.'"

 

Friday, June 11, 2010

What Do Americans Call Rapeseed?

I noticed the rapeseed fields as we first came over land - probably Holland then Germany - after flying over the Atlantic and we saw bright yellow rapeseed fields three weeks later when we flew from Berlin to Paris. And we kept seeing rapeseed fields from the train and from the car when we were outside of the big cities - but not even that far outside of Berlin or London.  While I kind of like the bright yellow, our British friend found the bright yellow fields much too garish.

So I wanted to find out what was going on with all the rapeseed.  It turns out rapeseed is also known as Canola and it is also used as a  biofuel which explains why there is so much of it planted in northern Europe.  From an interesting story in sciencecareers about a Polish researcher:

Rapeseed has increased in importance in Europe and China as demand for biofuel has risen. In 2000, Polish farmers harvested about 450,000 hectares of rapeseed; in 2009 they brought in more than 810,000 hectares. Planted in the fall as a winter cover crop, rapeseed flowers in the early spring. But the molds that cause oilseed stem canker -- Leptosphaeria maculans and L. biglobosa -- attack in the fall, so there's a long gap between the time fungicides need to be sprayed and when the crop matures.

Below are some more excerpts from some different websites plus a few more pictures I took on the trip.


From  Soyatech:
Brassica napus Linnaeus—known as rapeseed, rape, oilseed rape, and in some cultivars, Canola—is a bright yellow flowering member of the Brassicacea family (mustard or cabbage family). It is a mustard crop grown primarily for its seed which yields about forty percent oil and a high-protein animal feed.

Seed Type and Common Varieties
Since 1991, virtually all rapeseed production in the European Union has shifted to rapeseed 00 (double zero), with low content of erucic acid and low content of glucosinolates. The production of rapeseed in the European Union is still “conventional”, that is does not contain GMO. [genetically modified organism]

History
Worldwide Rapeseed Production (million metric tons)
1950s
3.5
1965 5.2
1975 8.8
1985 19.2
1995 34.2
2006 47.0


From Fediol The European Union Oil and Proteinmeal Industry:


Rapeseed oil and meal
As the oil content of rapeseed is around 40%, the processing is made in two steps: pre-pressing plus solvent extraction, or only by pressing. The rapeseed meal is an important protein source in compound feed for cattle, pigs and poultry.
Rapeseed oil contains 98% of tri-esters of fatty acids and 2% of sterols and tocopherols. It has a uniquely low content of saturated fatty acids and a high content of monounsaturated fatty acids, offering a good balance of fatty acids: 60% oleic, 20% linoleic, 10% alphalinoleic. It is also a rich source of Omega 3 and Omega 6 linolenic acids.
The low erucic variety is widely used for applications such as salad dressing, margarines and sauces. The high erucic variety is used in a range of technical purposes, for example bio-degradable lubricating oil as an alternative to mineral oil based lubricants. The use of rapeseed oil methyl esters as a substitute for diesel fuel takes large volumes of rapeseed oil.
Rapeseed meal, with only 37% protein content can hardly substitute soymeal in animal feeding. They represent 7% of the vegetable meals consumed in Europe and can enter feed ratios in the proportion of maximum 15% for chickens and 20% for porks and milk cows.
The situation for rapeseed oil in the EU is in equilibrium with a production and consumption of 5.5 million tonnes. The EU production of rapeseed meal rises 7.6 million tonnes.
[Charts from Fediol.]

You can see from the charts that the EU is the largest single producer of rapeseed, which explains why we saw so much of it.  And the winter crop blooms in early spring when we were there - April and May. 

Indexmundi lists only one top company: Archer Daniels Midland (ADM.)  The price in US dollars per metric ton was down in May 2010 to 864 from a January high of 929. 

ADM was the company featured in the movie The Informant for international price fixing.  The film, according to Ira Glass, in the 2009 rebroadcast of the show originally broadcast in 2000,  was inspired by the original 2000 broadcast.  This is a really good, but also chilling show.  You can listen to it here.  Definitely worth it to get a glimpse of international price fixing and how the FBI works.  There's also a book by Kurt Eichenwald who speaks to Ira Glass on this show. 

The show documents the FBI investigation of international price fixing of lysine.  I don't know for sure whether rapeseed is used to make lysine, but the

Proceedings of the World Conference on Oilseed Technology says
Comparisons of amino acids as percentages of the protein (NX6.25) in oil meal show that soybean is the richest in lysine (6.2%), closely followed by rapeseed (canola) (6.0%) and sunflower (3.0%).
So I'd think there was a good chance that rapeseed might have been part of all this.

I should also mention that ConAgra whose campus we walked through in Omaha is mentioned on the tape as one of the customers of ADM that was getting ripped off by ADM by the price fixing.

Thursday, May 06, 2010

British Elections High Voter Turnout

[Update: 11:23pm - BBC is reporting that in a number of polling places people were turned away when the polls closed at 10pm and they weren't allowed to vote. But it seems they were not prepared for such a possibility and different polling places treated such voters differently. I also learned today that EU members living in UK can vote in local elections, but not the national elections.]

[Update 10:12 pm: Here's the television's exit poll report.  307 for the Conservatives, but they need 326 seats to have a majority.  255 is for Labour.  59 is Lib Dems.  29 Others.  Here's a link to the BBC coverage.]



We were in Cambridge today and the sun was glorious and I'll post some pictures soon.  But it's election day in UK and here are some photos of voting.  Above was from the Park and Ride bus leaving Cambridge to the car park where Doug's car was.



And here's Doug's polling place in Brentwood. 



These were the officials at the polling place in Brentwood.  They allowed me to take pictures, but they did ask what I was going to do with them.  When I said I had a blog in Alaska, they had no problem.



Here are the voting booths.



These are the candidates for Member of Parliament (MP) from this district.  As I said in the previous post, Pickles is the Conservative Party Chair and current MP from Brentwood. 


These are the candidates for local council.

These folks were checking people's polling numbers on their voting cards as they came in or left.  They are actually party members who are checking on who votes so they can then go out and encourage their supporters who haven't voted to go out and vote.  The woman has on a blue ribbon which indicates the Conservative Party.  The man had a yellow ribbon in his pocket and represents the Liberal Democratic Party.  I asked about the Labour Party rep and she said she'd done this four times now and there never was a Labour Party rep.  They said that voting was quite high.  That was a couple of hours ago, about 6:30pm local time.

It sounds like a lot of people hadn't made up their minds yet.  We heard from someone today that he wasn't sure if he was voting Conservative or Liberal Democrat, but he was sure he didn't want Brown any longer. 

People are expecting a Conservative minority victory and then it will be a while until they can form a government and Gordon Brown would be prime minister until a new one has been selected. 


Polls are open until 10pm (it's almost ten now) and we'll be watching the telly for a while.

Wednesday, May 05, 2010

British Election Tomorrow



Thursday is the election.  All members of parliament are up for election and the vote will determine the next prime minister.

Yet I've seen very little sign that there is an election going on.  There was this small sign in a window near our hotel. 







We saw this one for the conservatives yesterday in the countryside of Essex about an hour out of London to the west. 


Saturday afternoon, while visiting a distant relative for tea, a Liberal Democrat (Lib Dem is what the announcers call them) candidate for local council came to the door.  He was asking for her vote and he also had the MP candidate down the street if she wanted to talk to him.  No, she wasn't voting Lib Dem.  She's for Labour.  He wanted to know the issues that were important to her.  But she said she didn't have time, she had guests for tea.

He pointed out that the Labour Party candidate was not even from here while the Lib Dem candidate lived on the next street over.  (You don't have to live in the district you represent.)
The newspapers and tv have lots of coverage.  Pickles is the chair of the Conservative Party and the local candidate from Brentwood and Ongar where I am in Essex now. 




And even Simon Cowell has a word on the elections.


The polls have the Conservatives ahead, but not by that much and with both Labour and the Liberal Democrats with significant percentages.  They say 40% of the electorate is still undecided.  If the Conservatives cannot get an outright majority, it seems that Gordon Brown (the Labour Candidate and current Prime Minister) will continue as Prime Minister until a coalition government is formed.  Whoever wins, our host thinks that a lot of services people here are used to will be cut. 

Visiting with Friends

Monday was a bank holiday in England. The temperatures were 10°C below normal range - so
instead of being in the high 60s F they were under 50 F (10C) and the wind was constantly
tugging. And down into the 30s at night.   But the sun was out.

 SA, a Pakistani civil servant friend, who is in town for two weeks, met us at the hotel accompanied by a former student of his K, who also graduated from the same program as my son in Singapore.


We walked around Russell Square, sat on the bench for a bit, then decided it would be a lot warmer in the Penn Club where we were staying. We solved all the problems of the world over a couple of hours.







At three Gene Dugan picked us up
and gave us his special walking tour of London. Gene,m formerly of Anchorage, now has an Irish passport along with his US passport and is standing (not running) for election to the local council as a Green Party member. The elections are Thursday and I'll try to do a post on them as well. Gene is the second local council candidate we've met.

Our tour included the Greater Ormond Street Hospital (GOSH) for children whose patron saint is Peter Pan. James Barrie left them the rights to Peter Pan when he died.
[UPDATE:  February 17, 2011 - GOSH emailed a new web address link which I've added.  It would be nice if others did that when they change the url.  GOSH, Thanks.]









Gene worked here for a while and showed us the gem of a chapel in the hospital.
Although they have chaplains of many denominations, the chapel is clearly oriented towards Christians. But it is beautiful.

We stopped into one of the many betting shops. I just wanted to see what was inside. There are also casinos here.

We did have to check out the Ethical Society.











Gene's tour included a few big name attractions as well as the quirky.  We saw the Tower of London

 Which had signs in more languages than I'd ever seen before.  But not Arabic which I thought strange.
(Double click to enlarge the photo)

 Then across the Tower Bridge to South London, where we saw some kids  taking advantage of some architectural features perfect for making leaps on their bikes.


Eventually, we made it to Gene and Jay's home, where Jay was waiting and we had a delightful
dinner and conversation that we were sorry to break off, but they had work and school in the
morning and we had a train to catch. We're on the train now as I type, but there's no wifi so I'm
not sure when I'll get to actually post this. There was sun out this morning, but it's grey now
again.

We're headed to visit with Doug who visited us in Anchorage in 2008. Doug and I first met in
Amsterdam when I was a student in Göttingen. We traveled a bit together the following summer
in UK and then I visited him again on my way back from Peace Corps Thailand when he was
teaching English in Uganda. Our reunion two years ago after almost 40 years went well and
we're looking forward to spending a few days with him exploring outside London.

 [It's Wednesday already.  I finally gave up on making the wifi work and so I'm doing this from Doug's computer.  Nice afternoon enjoying nature and small town England.  But the level of traffic is, for the roads, pretty high. More later.]

Monday, May 03, 2010

Underground Lessons

Being new somewhere, I feel like a little kid. Everything catches my attention. Everything is unexpected. I'm constantly trying to orient myself. Where am I? Where am I going? How do I get there? Every tube station is a new adventure.

I started out with the notion that the subway system in London is great. You can get anywhere. Plus there are great maps at the station exits and on street poles all over London that show you the neighborhood. But I'm also noticing that we're doing a lot of walking underground.

Some of the stations are shiny new.  And the escalators work.


But lots of them are shabby.  You walk through narrow tunnels way underground.





We basically follow the crowd up and down stairs, around corners, hoping that next train platform isn't too far away.











Down the stairs.





















Then up the next set.








People with disabilities haven't got a chance here.  Fortunately, J's foot bone break is minor and the doctor said she could use it.  But we tend to go a little slower than normal which is fine. 





At Russell Square, you have to take an elevator to get up.  There are emergency stairs.  It says there are 175 steps and not to use them unless it's an emergency.  The first night, after what seemed like a long wait, but probably wasn't, we followed two other people up the stairs.  175 stairs is a long way.  The Juneau practice on the hills and steps was great preparation.

So last night we waited and took the elevator.

Besides being written overhead, the words echo over the speaker.  "Stand Clear - Doors Closing."  And the Italian tourists near us copied the crisp British pronunciation as if they were repeating after the teacher and smiled in recognition of the words.


J did that in Berlin as M taught her "Aussteigen links"  "Bleiben zuruck."  Which gets us back to the beginning of this post.  When one is in a totally new environment everything seems new and one's brain is open and working.

I began questioning why we were spending so much time walking around like rodents in holes in the ground.  This seems so bizarre.  But I'm sure Londoners never think that.  They just take it for granted.  That's how they get around.  And if I stayed here three months or more, I'd stop thinking and just do.

And because the trains don't take you directly where you want to go, you go much further by train than you would as the mole runs.  (Probably moles don't run as straight as crows fly.)  I was starting to get the hang of figuring out which bus to take.  They really are well marked on the bus stops.  And you can see the neighborhoods in a bus.  But  might well be stuck in traffic, which gets people back underground.  But on this three day bank holiday weekend, the Jubilee line is closed, so you have to go back up and catch a replacement bus.



Tonight, we needed to go from Marble Arch (on that single red horizontal line in the middle on the left below Bond Street - left of the perpendicular gray line) four stops along the red line to the right to Holborn and then changing (doing all that scurrying through gerbil mazes) to the blue line and going up one stop to Russell Square.   That seems a ways, but how long would it take to walk? Fortunately, we also have a street map.



Oxford Street goes horizontally just below the middle.  Marble Arch is just above that green park area on the far left.  Sorry I cut it off a bit.  That is also where Hyde Park Speakers' Corner is.  More on that later.  Just above Oxford from the left to the right is Seymour, which becomes Wigmore which becomes Cavendish which becomes Mortimore which becomes Goodge as it dead ends where there is a big pink area (the University of London on top and the British Museum below) and the green rectangle is Russell Square.  So we walked instead and it only took about 40 minutes.

But we're convinced that the walking involved in catching buses and subways is one reason we saw far fewer overweight Germans and now British people than we see Americans.  They are forced to move around more.

Saturday, May 01, 2010

St. Paul's Cathedral from Tate Modern

We met some friends from Anchorage who've moved to London for drinks at the Tate Gallery bar that has this spectacular view across the Thames River to St. Paul's Cathedral.  The top picture is the bar with the Cathedral in the background.  The rest are pictures from where we were sitting as the sun went down.



The Worst Condition is to Pass Under a Sword that is Not Your Own - London Art Rabarama and Rakowitz

I've given up trying to say anything or give more than even a glimpse of what we're seeing. Don't have time. Papers today do say that Prime Minister Brown's calling a constituent a bigot when he didn't know his mic was still on means next week's election is the Conservatives' to lose, though the Liberal Democrats are a close second.

We saw these two Rabarama sculptures in the Moor House lobby as we passed by yesterday.






The Worst Condition in the title is the name of this exhibit below in the Level 2 Gallery at the Tate Modern.  It looks at the Iraq war and weapons and images both Western and non-Western. 

This exhibit is made up of text and pieces.  This text is for Tom Begich. (Turns out his blog suggests he's in London too.)[Update: Tom emailed to say he did get to see it and reminded me it was his brother Nick who's the HAARP expert, not Tom.] (You can double click this to enlarge and read it.  It's legible, but you have to work at it.)  The [Update: this is the post that got cut short when I lost my internet connection. This exhibit combined these drawings/stories and pieces like the masks and the swords to push the mindbarriers we have about war, Iraq, and literature.]