Following on from Steve’s honest description of travelling through unbelief, and Bob’s description of rumbles of war just over the horizon I find myself once again wondering about the enforced jollility some of us often feel as disturbing dissonance as this season unfolds. It has always seemed to me that if there is joy at all, it is as likely to be encountered accompanied by tears as much as laughter. Sometimes both come together. I have tried to write about this apparent contradiction many times in my poetry. Advent, it seems, is a paradox.
Perhaps you will call me miserable (or use the slightly kinder word ‘melancholic’) but this would miss something important. Advent is always hard for many and this one is harder than most. Yesterdays post from Bob about Ukraine offers a very present example, but there are many closer to home who are also struggling.
The individualisation which has defined our age has also condemned many in western societies to solitary confinement just when we needed each other the most.
In the midst of my own Advent ponderings I am reading this book, which Michaela bought for me as present. She knows me well. The author places her Advent in the context of the ongoing suffering of the Palestinian people, but also in the context of the first Advent, which describes the arrival of Jesus into chaos… into an Israel overcome and broken by a succession of occupations, only the latest one being the Romans. The book starts like this;
What does joy look like from the perspective of broken troubled times? What is the peace that we hope for? What justice? These are never just individual questions, rather they move us away from self-religon back towards the collective, shared consciousness that rediscovers our connectedness to both each other and to the created world. To the ‘Christ who loved things by becoming them’.
As I read Steve’s words two days ago describing his thinking seat in the face of an ebb of faith, a poem was nagging at me. I offer it here in the hope that it wall say more with fewer words.
This is part of our daily collaborative advent project, which will be spread accross a few locations/blogs.
Today’s piece comes from singer/songwriter Bob Fraser, who has written some of the soundtrack to my (and perhaps your) earlier life.
We would love you to come with us on the journey. The simplest way to do this is to subscribe to one of the blogs, and then you should get a daily notification (you can always unsubscribe later!) Otherwise, you can interact with the posts via the usual social media platforms (although I am no longer doing twitter.) A few shares and likes will help us make connections too…
Our intention is to move forward with hope, savouring questions and having no fear of doubt. We live in darkness but look towards light.
How must it feel to have your homeland occupied by the enemy, to be dispossessed of your land, to have your home bombarded and devastated, and reduced to a pile of rubble? How must it feel to lose relatives and friends, lose possessions, lose dignity, and be surrounded by devastation, chaos and uncertainty, knowing no security, and not knowing where the next meal may come from, or whether you even have a table to sit at? How would we cope with no electricity, no running water, living the life of a refugee in a climate of fear? What must it be like to be frightened by the callous actions of extremists, and equally fearful of your own emotions which may boil over in desperation demanding justice and revenge?
For an ordinary bloke wanting to live a peaceful, meaningful life, earn a living, care for a family, bring security and protection to those you love, and maintain a grip on beliefs and values, a life in that kind of environment would be severely restricted.
Even when a cease fire is declared, providing desperate civilians a much needed opportunity to assess the damage, look after the wounded and somehow go on with their lives, it’s a fragile peace and experience suggests it will not last, that conflict will resume, and there will be yet more suffering.
Sometimes, our hearts can feel like that enemy occupied land – battle weary, battered and bruised after yet another enemy onslaught. Every now and then there is a temporary cease-fire, giving chance to re-group, offering new hope and encouragement to keep going. Yet, after only a brief respite, another bombardment comes, threatening to destroy much of what we had salvaged from previous wreckage. Enemies know how to target with precision any weakness in defences. Their aim is to steal, kill, destroy, immobilise, silence, and distract. They know how to create dis-unity, spread lies and confusion, cut off supplies, extinguish hope, break the battle line, prey on the vulnerable, sever communication, dampen spirits and create exhaustion.
Options are limited in a situation where most of what is happening is outside our control. The only choices available are probably equally daunting. Neither choice comes without risk. Neither is right nor wrong. We can remain victims, hunkering down until the next cease-fire, longing for peace, yet existing and surviving rather than really living, but at least being close to roots and family and all that is familiar.
Or, we can gather all those we love and anything we can salvage, and start out on a path that is unfamiliar, heading for a destination which is unknown, taking on a new adventure with hope of a better life.
Whichever option is chosen, we’ll need to cling to the hope that even though life at the moment is not how we imagined it would be, the best is yet to come.
We will also be having some contibutions by the fantastic singer/songwriter Bob Fraser, who has written some of the soundtrack to my (and perhaps your) earlier life.
We would love you to come with us on the journey. The simplest way to do this is to subscribe to one of the blogs, and then you should get a daily notification (you can always unsubscribe later!) Otherwise, you can interact with the posts via the usual social media platforms (although I am no longer doing twitter.) A few shares and likes will help us make connections too…
Our intention is to move forward with hope, savouring questions and having no fear of doubt. We live in darkness but look towards light.
Today’s reflection comes from a typically honest Steve Broadway, pondering matters of faith…
Advent is particularly associated with waiting… but for me, this year, Advent will be a little different from the Advents of the past. My own ‘faith journey’ has stalled – so much so that I’ve decided to take an indefinite sabbatical from attending church services while I endeavour to wait for this period to pass.
In some ways, agreeing to be a part of a ‘multi-blog collaboration’ seems both inappropriate a little scary.
I am an early riser. I’m usually up by 5am.
At various times in my life, I might have used this time for prayer and/or reading daily reflections/Bible passages.
I no longer do such things.
I can no longer be bothered.
And yet, since moving house, I now frequently find myself in my ‘Thinking Seat’ staring out of the window at the dawn of a new day.
It’s something of a magical time.
Could it be the start of my journey to rediscover my faith?
“Caught by the light of some small heaven” (as my good friend Ian has described it) perhaps?
Today marks the first day of another season of Advent. It also marks the beginning of a daily collaboration with some blogging friends, in which we will be sharing a post each day over our different platforms.
We would love you to come with us on the journey. The simplest way to do this is to subscribe to one of the blogs, and then you should get a daily notification (you can always unsubscribe later!) Otherwise, you can interact with the posts via the usual social media platforms (although I am no longer doing twitter.) A few shares and likes will help us make connections too…
Our intention is to move forward with hope, savouring questions and having no fear of doubt. We live in darkness but look towards light.
To get us started, this is a view from one of my favourite places, the site of St Blanes chapel, built in a bowl of Isle of Bute hills on the site of a monastery established by or after Catan, an Irish missionary saint, some time in the 500s.
Amongst and around the viking graves and medieval church walls, you can see marks and mounds in the earth from the earlier religious settlement. A boundary wall marking the division between ‘secular’ and ‘sacred ‘space, simple beehive cells made from piles of stones in which monks lived. A well still full of fresh sparkling water. Wild plants whose ancestors may have been planted as part of a monastic garden.
Leaning in are huge trees; oaks and sycamores – ancient, but more recent than the placing of the stones.
But the stones themselves – they are old on a different scale. Shaped by the igneous intrusion that formed much of these parts.
It is a place of reflection. A place when our hubris is measured against almost-infinity. Our place in things becomes so tiny so ephemeral.
Wierdly however, this place never erases my individuality, rather it contains it. Rather than reducing me to so much blown chaff, as relevant (and as irrelevant) as a fallen leaf, it connects me.
But what is this thing that I feel connected to?
The old answers never felt authentic, even when I pretended greater confidence. They used language and ideas given to me that were at best merely a mode of travel, they were never a destination. Perhaps there is no destination. But still, in moments and in places like this, I find myself sensing something beyond myself that draws me. I have no pressing need to define it, to categorise, but I feel hints of sometihng vitalising and alive beyond almost anything else in my experience.
Are these just the fanciful meanderings of a middle aged man? Perhaps, but if so, I am in good company at St Blanes chapel. People have been seeking the same answers there for one and a half thousand years, despite the intervention of Vikings and the Reformation (incidentally, apparently the minister there refused to play ball with the reformists, and he was so loved that they let him be.)
Advent is not about certainty, it is about a sense of something more ‘felt’ than known. In my experience it contains a longing that can not be easily described. It is perhaps best understood as a fleeting transcendent connection to something beyond
The most tantalising thing of all is that what I think I sense most strongly in these moments is goodness.
Advent begins on Sunday. I love to allow seasons like this to shape some contemplation, and so intend to put together a daily reflection thing via my blog. Does anyone want to contibute?
Advent is about anticipating something better. Hoping for light that is still to come, even in present darkness. Do whatever you like with this this. Could be a poem, an image, a video clip, a song, or a painting, or anything else that provides a space for others to be still for a moment and reflect.
How is it that still, you love things by becoming them?
How was it that this brown-skinned man with the heart of a woman
Took upon herself another name for everything, so we could
Encounter her in all these beautiful things and bleed with her when she
Lies broken? And just when all seems lost, she whispers still –
See, I am making all things new.
Even you.
It can be hard at first to step aside from both secular and religious cliches about the approach of Christmas, at least until you allow yourself a bit of space to think again about the nature of this season.
the time when winter is still deepening, the coldness increasing, the days shortening
the creak of increasing Christmas pressure coming at us from our screens
fears of scarcity despite our abundance
the end of last year and the approach of the next
the certain knowledge that there will be a new spring
the simple, all surpassing idea of immanuel, the god who loves things by becoming them
If you would like to join us for the journey, reply here or drop me a message. You need espouse no particular position of faith. Just help our hearts open a little when we need it most.
Following on from the last post, in which I attempted to describe my feelings around a new attempt to form a climate action group for my local area, I have been continuing to consider the problem of how to respond creatively and with integrity to crisis of our time.
There is a need for all of us from time to time to take an inventory not just of our own personal place in the world, but how this relates to the great goodness the world contains. If we are to treasure the gace hidden in all things then we must also seek to be part of it and not just consume it, or be an unwitting part of its destruction. The great disatisfaction this sets up in many of us at present is the feeling that we are powerless to change the very destruction we are seeking to avoid. This itself is a place of personal and collective sickness of spirit.
As for myself, I have tried to make as many changes that I could towards sustainability – the growing of food, the recycling, the fixing and reusing, the buying second hand. However, I also feel guilty because of the destructive things that I do – the vehicles I drive, the leaky home heated with fossil fuel, the over consuming western culture within which I still participate. Like many of us, this sets up chains of cognitive dissonance that twist me up in ways that are profoundly self defeating.
I am privileged to live a comfortable life in a beautiful place between mountains and sea. This privilege places me on the outside, removed from cutting edge consequences more visible around greater concentrations of humanity, particularly in the poorer southern parts of the world. Discussions about climate change here are made from a position of climate privilege and collective blindness about the mess we have made (and continue to make) of our ecosystems. We look at mountains covered in spruce plantations and think they always looked like that. We dodge deer on the roads forgetting entirely that they are there because of a lack of natural predators. We celebrate iconic single species such as otters and sea eagles with no clear idea of their loneliness and the total unbalanced ecosystem that our patterns of farming and resource extraction have created.
My attempt to respond to these issues has already proved problematic, for these sorts of reasons;
There are some vested interests that might well get in the way- for example, how can a council funded organisation protest against the council and hold it to account?
It seems that death by detail is likely. There are so many strands of potential action (allotments, recycling, plastics, beach cleaning, forestry, diversity, single species protection, ocean protection zones, conservation farming, rewilding, etc.) How do we prioritise?
The detail is often reflected in individuals with passions and hobby horses. These are not necessarily ‘local’ or directly relevant to OUR location here and now. Again, how do collectivise around one particular issue or small set of issues?
We all have egos in the game- we like to think that our passion projects are the most important. We can then be dismissive of others and fail to add collective value.
What is the appropriate response to a climate emergency HERE in Argyll? My feeling is that small scale consumer/citizen focussed activities of the kind that are being promoted through the Dunoon Area Alliance (a funded community support organisation) (for example green mapping, recycling, plastics campaigns etc) are important in that they give people a feeling of getting involved, but they are not proportionate to the scale of the emergency. None of these actions are transformative or would make significant impact, apart from perhaps at the informational level.
There seems to me to be a difference between an activist group and small-scale community activities. Both have important roles to play but require different approaches/structures/memberships.
Activism most likely involves a degree of confrontation, which is not for everyone.
There is a lot of complacency about climate change and loss of habitat diversity here in Argyll. We consider the landscape to be ‘wild’ and ‘natural’, because it is largely open country. It is in fact neither of these things.
What then might local climate activism look like in Argyll? What are the major issues impacting on our ways of living here? What industrial processes that have shaped our interactions with the natural world, for good or ill? Which problems should be our priority and where do we put our energy? In a previous post I asked these questions;
What are the industrial processes that are destroying the Cowal environment? This takes us straight towards the three F’s- Farming, Forestry and Fishing. They are all sacred cows with huge local power and social capital. Challenging established practices will upset people we know and love.
Where can we see examples of local counter-cultural political/social/economic alternatives that we can learn from? We have to think both big and small, in that we need to hold an idea of transformation that is also LOCAL.
For example, S mentioned a small Irish town that has become fully ‘sustainable’. Coll has its own independent power grid. Other towns have gone fully plastic free. Some places have used local politics to revive collective action. Other places have converted almost all shared spaces into collective food growing areas.
What can we learn from these examples and how can we hold our own political systems to account for their lack of ambition?
I think these are important questions here, and in my mind at least, they already start to suggest areas of engagement. I have been inspired in part by this;
The thing about this piece is that despite its visual and political impact, it has created significant reaction. It was also largely the work (I think) of one or two people, who did not ask for permission, beyond talking to the owner of the land on which the structure was built.
It is also proportionate to the landscape and location. It is made of local timber and can be seen from distance, whilst doing no damage. Some people objected, but it has largely recieved local acceptance, even to the point or retrospective planning permission.
More than this, the power of the object comes from artistic, creative playful question making. It might be regarded as theopoetic. The shape and idea is deceptively simple, but the more you think about it, the more it starts to shift the way that people see things.
This structure offers a meeting point, a space to share ideas and make small revolutions. Power to those who made it, I say.
We can’t all build an ark – although then again perhaps we need one in every area – but we can learn a lot from this approach. Local, thinking big and small. Proportionate to the scale of lanscape. Using local skills. Slightly subversive, making a statement for others to respond to without preaching. Using art rather than persuasion.
There are also some clues there about the nature of the group that might support such activity. Clandestine, confronting work of this kind probably needs a supportive, safe community behind it, who are prepared to share the work and the potential adverse reactions.
I have some ideas already, but obviously can’t talk about them here yet… However, if you are local and interested to know more, get in in touch.
I attended a meeting last night of people considering starting a climate change action group. First meetings of this kind are always difficult. People come at the meeting from all sorts of positions and we all feel the need to state our credentials. The outcome was fairly predictable in that (like much of the debate on climate change!) we got lost in detail. I ended up feeling frustrated and struggling to remain hopeful.
It is no easy thing to commit to another group-based activity. Not for a battle-scarred introvert such as myself.
It was all buzzing in my head, so that this morning I was up at the crack of dawn, wanting to write some thoughts down- pretty much my standard way to process things. (If I REALLY need to work things through I turn to poetry!) I wrote this as a starter;
We are killing ecosystems. Our industrial processes are eating the planet from under us. Our over-consumption is creating huge unfairness and inequality. Here in Cowal we live amongst such natural beauty, but this obscures a terrible truth: our hillside is dying or already dead. The ancient forests are gone, replaced by ecological wastelands. Deer numbers are exploding. Everything is out of balance. In the face of all this we feel powerless. Partly this is because ‘The problem’ is not on a human scale. It is too big. There are too many components, too many power dynamics, too many distractions, too many voices who seem to offer conflicting information. Many of us have tried to change as individuals. There is a whole industry set up to make us all individual green consumers- to sell us green products and services. Mostly this is just ‘green-washing’. Individual consumer action cannot and will not reverse climate change. Many of us have also been part of collective action at some level- attending protests, lobbying MPs, starting food-growing initiatives, demanding better from our supermarkets. This kind of action can unite us and bring hope that things CAN change but they are not sufficient. The climate is still warming. Diversity is still being stripped away from our already denuded landscapes. Our problem is two-fold;
Unsustainable industrial (including farming/forestry/fishing) processes at both global and local levels
A lack of political/social/economic alternatives to the unsustainable consumer culture we have created at global, national and local levels
The question, once again, is what do we do about this. I am not interested in consumer choices. Whether I use plastic bags or drive a Tesla will not help one jot. Neither have I any patience for passive ego-preening discussions, even though I have been guilty of indulging in them too often myself. Here is my current thinking;
There is a lot of activity taking place in Dunoon already. It is good to know about it and to support it but there is no point in replicating it. Movements towards change often break down into factional competitive fiefdoms and we want no part of that. What we do not have is a local place/mechanism to express our outrage and to collectively convert this outrage to action. Whilst there are many ways that we might do this I believe we have to stay focussed first and foremost on how ‘The problem’ (as defined above) is encountered in Cowal. In other words;
What are the industrial processes that are destroying the Cowal environment? This takes us straight towards the three F’s- Farming, Forestry and Fishing. They are all sacred cows with huge local power and social capital. Challenging established practices will upset people we know and love.
Where can we see examples of local counter-cultural political/social/economic alternatives that we can learn from? We have to think both big and small, in that we need to hold an idea of transformation that is also LOCAL. For example, Siobhan mentioned a small Irish town that has become fully ‘sustainable’. Coll has its own independent power grid. Other towns have gone fully plastic free. Some places have used local politics to revive collective action. Other places have converted almost all shared spaces into collective food growing areas. What can we learn from these examples and how can we hold our own political systems to account for their lack of ambition?
And how might we express this outrage? My hope is that we can do something like this;
The outcome of this work will hopefully be playful, creative activism
Art that reveals, challenges, informs (think of the Ark)
Subversive action (non-violent and not illegal!) to raise awareness over specific local issues
Informational activities such as conferences (as per the Mid Argyll group)
Community play- building things in the landscape, feasting together, singing and sitting round fires, telling hopeful stories.
I don’t know if the others in my embrionic group will share this vision with me, and if not, I will need to challenge myself along these lines;
Like all of us, I have my history, my past failures and even worse, my past successes. I have my own hobby horses and passions. I am a grumpy poet who does not do small talk and has a low tolerance for bullshit.
Having said that, I believe in the power of community. I see no greater hope. If we can find some collective momentum through this group, I will hang in there, despite my own inevitable limitations and frustrations.
As I further reflect on all of this, I realise that more than ever, I connect with things through my spirit rather than my intellect. Whether I stay involved with this group or not will be much to do with whether it sings in my soul. At present, the song is distant, but there are interesting echoes…
Today, here in the UK we keep a two minute silence for rememberance day, inaugurated, at least in part, to help us hold in our minds the futility and brutality of the War to End All Wars (which turned out to be wrongly named.)
Despite (or perhaps because of) the increasing historical distance from the last great war, my impression is that rememberance day in Britain is becoming a bigger deal. Celebrations are more elaborate than decades ago. Silences are held in supermarkets. Social media feeds are full of Sasson and Owen poetry and the US cult of the soldier-hero has cross the Atlantic.
I often wonder if it would be the same if there had been no second world war. Much of the modern popular cultural idea of ‘Britishness’ seems to have been defined by this conflict- the spitfires and the plucky island standing as a last bastion against oppression. We case ourselves not only as victors, but as noble warriors. As if the Empire never happened. Brexit, cast in this light, is both logical and correct. Other parts of the world have a very different idea of Britishness- after all, there are only 22 countries on the planet that we have not at some point invaded/annexed/otherwise appropriated.
This matters. Consider the amount of wars since the end of the last ‘world war’. Below is an alphabetical list, which is far from complete. Most are directly related to the mess left behind by Empires, and we had the biggest of all. (Taken from here.)
Afghanistan: Civil War, 1989
Afghanistan: Soviet Invasion, 1979–1989
Afghanistan: U.S. and NATO Invasion, 2001–
African Union conflicts
Albania: Civil Conflict, 1990s
Algeria: Fundamentalist Struggle Since 1992
Algeria: War of National Liberation, 1954–1962
Angola: First War with UNITA, 1975–1992
Angola: Second War with UNITA, 1992–2002
Angola: Struggle over Cabinda Since 1960
Angola: War of National Liberation, 1961–1974
Anticolonialism terrorism
ANZUS Pact
Arab League
Argentina: Dirty War, 1960s–1970s
Argentina: Falklands/Malvinas War, 1982
Armenia: Nagorno-Karabakh Conflict, 1990s
Bahrain: Anti-Regime Uprising, 2011
Bolivia: Revolution, 1952
Bosnia: Civil War, 1992–1995
Brazil: Generals’ Coup, 1964
Burkina Faso: Coups, 1966–1987
Burundi: Ethnic Strife, 1962–2006
C
Cambodia: Civil Wars, 1968–1998
Cambodia: U.S. Interventions, 1969–1973
Cambodia: Vietnamese Invasion, 1978–1979
Canada: Quebec Separatist Movement, 1960–1987
Central African Republic: Coups Since 1966
Central Treaty Organization (Baghdad Pact)
Chad: Civil Wars, 1960s–2000s
Chad: War with Libya, 1986–1987
Chile: Coup Against Allende, 1973
China: Border Clash with the Soviet Union, 1969
China: Border War with India, 1962
China: Civil War/Revolution, 1927–1949
China: Invasion of Tibet, 1950–1959
China: Quemoy and Matsu, 1954–1958
China: Tiananmen Violence, 1989
China: War with Vietnam, 1979
Cold War Confrontations
Colombia: Internal Insurgencies, 1970s–2000s
Comoros: Coups, 1980s
Congo, Democratic Republic of: Invasions and Internal Strife Since 1998
Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS)
Ecuador: Border Dispute with Peru, 1941-1998
Egypt: Anti-Mubarak Uprising, 2011
Egypt: Nasser Coup and Its Legacy, 1952–1970
Egypt: Sinai War, 1956
Egypt: War of Attrition, 1967–1970
El Salvador: Civil Wars, 1970s–1980s
El Salvador: Soccer War with Honduras, 1969
Eritrea: Border War with Ethiopia, 1998–2000
Eritrea: War for Independence, 1958–1991
Ethiopia: Civil War, 1978–1991
Ethiopia: Revolution, 1974–1978
Ethiopia: War with Somalia, 1977–1978
Ethnic and Religious Conflicts
European Defense Community (EDC), 1952–1954
F
Fiji: Ethnic Conflict and Coups Since 1987
G
Georgia: Civil War, 1990s
Georgia: South Ossetia War with Russia, 2008
Germany: Berlin Crises, 1948–1949 and 1958–1962
Germany: East German Uprising, 1953
Ghana: Rawlings Coups, 1979–1981
Greece: Civil War, 1944–1949
Grenada: U.S. Invasion, 1983
Guatemala: Civil War, 1970s–1990s
Guatemala: Coup Against Arbenz, 1954
Guinea: Coup and Massacre, 2008–2009
Guinea-Bissau: Civil War, 1998–2000
Guinea-Bissau: War of National Liberation, 1962–1974
Guyana: Ethnic Conflict, 1960–1992
H
Haiti: Civil Conflict, 1990s–2000s
Hungary: Soviet Invasion, 1956
I
India: Ethnic and Separatist Violence in Assam Since 1979
India: Invasion of Goa, 1961
India: Jammu and Kashmir Violence Since 1947
India: Naxalite Maoist Uprising Since 1967
India: Nuclear Standoff with Pakistan Since 1998
India: Partition Violence, 1947
India: Sikh Uprising, 1970s and 1980s
India: War with Pakistan, 1965
India: War with Pakistan and Bangladeshi Independence, 1971
Indonesia: Aceh Separatist Conflict Since 1976
Indonesia: Communist and Suharto Coups, 1965–1966
Indonesia: Irian Jaya Separatist Conflict Since 1964
Indonesia: Wars of Independence, 1945–1949
International Arms Trade
International Criminal Court
Invasions and Border Disputes
Iran: Coup Against Mossadegh, 1953
Iran: Islamic Revolution, 1979
Iran: Nuclear Standoff Since 1979
Iran: War with Iraq, 1980–1988
Iraq: Gulf War, 1990–1991
Iraq: Kurdish Wars, 1961–2003
Iraq: Revolution and Coups, 1958–1968
Iraq: U.S. Invasion, 2003–2011
Ireland: The Troubles, 1968–1998
Israel: Attack on Iraqi Nuclear Reactor, 1981
Israel: Conflict with Hamas and Hezbollah, 2006
Israel: Palestinian Struggle Since 1948
Israel: Six-Day War, 1967
Israel: War of Independence, 1948–1949
Israel: Yom Kippur War, 1973
Italy: Anti-Mafia Campaign Since 1980
Ivory Coast: Civil Disorder, 1999–2004
J
Jordan: Civil War, 1970
K
Kenya: Mau Mau Uprising, 1952–1956
Kenya: Post-Election Violence, 2007–2008
Korea, North: Nuclear Standoff Since the 1990s
Korea, North: Seizure of the Pueblo, 1968
Korea, South: Invasion by the North, 1950–1953
L
Laos: Pathet Lao War, 1960s–1970s
Lebanon: Civil Conflict, 1958
Lebanon: Civil War, 1975–1990
Liberia: Anti-Taylor Uprising, 1998–2003
Liberia: Civil War, 1989–1997
Liberia: Doe Coup, 1980
Libya: Anti-Qaddafi Uprising, 2011
Libya: Qaddafi Coup, 1969
Libya: U.S. Air Attacks, 1986
M
Macedonia: Ethnic Conflict, 1990s
Madagascar: Independence Movement and Coups, 1947–2008
Malaysia: Communist Uprising, 1948–1960
Mali: Ethnic and Political Conflict, 1968–1996
Mauritania: Coups Since 1978
Mexico: Drug War Since 2006
Mexico: Zapatista Uprising Since 1994
Middle East Negotiations
Mozambique: Renamo War, 1976–1992
Mozambique: War of National Liberation, 1961–1974
Myanmar (Burma): Civil Wars and Coups Since 1948
N
Namibia: War of National Liberation, 1966–1990
Nepal: Maoist Insurgency, 1996–2006
New Caledonia (France): Independence Struggle, 1970s–1990s
Nicaragua: Contra War, 1980s
Nicaragua: Revolution, 1970s
Niger: Ethnic and Political Conflict Since 1990
Nigeria: Biafra War, 1967–1970
Nigeria: Coups and Ethnic Unrest Since 1966
Non-Aligned Movement—The Bandung Conference
North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO)
O
Organisation of the Islamic Conference (OIC)
Organization of American States (OAS)
P
Pakistan: Taliban Conflict, 2004–
Palestine: First Intifada, 1987–1992
Palestine: Gaza Conflict, 2008–2009
Palestine: Second Intifada, 2000–2006
Panama: Torrijos Coup, 1969
Panama: U.S. Invasion, 1989
Papua New Guinea: Bougainville Independence Struggle, 1988–1998
People’s Wars
Peru: Shining Path Rebellion, 1970s–1997
Philippines: Huk Rebellion, 1948–1953
Philippines: Moro Uprising Since 1972
Philippines: War on Islamic Militants Since 1990
Poland: Imposition of Martial Law, 1981–1983
Puerto Rico: Anti-U.S. Terrorism, 1934–1954
R
Romania: Fall of Ceausescu, 1989
Russia: Chechen Uprising Since 1994
Rwanda: Civil War and Genocide Since 1991
S
Serbia: Kosovo Secessionist Movement, 1990s
Sierra Leone: Civil Conflict, 1990–2002
Solomon Islands: Separatist and Ethnic Conflict, 1999–2003
Somalia: Civil War Since 1991
South Africa: Anti-Apartheid Struggle, 1948–1994
Southeast Asia Treaty Organization (SEATO)
Soviet Union: Conflict with Iran over Azerbaijan, 1945–1946
Soviet Union: Conflict with Turkey, 1945–1953
Soviet Union: Downing of Korean Airliner, 1983
Spain: Basque Uprising Since 1959
Sri Lanka: Tamil Uprising, Late 1970s to 2009
Sudan: Civil Wars in South, 1955–1972; 1983–2005
Sudan: Conflict in Darfur Since 2002
Syria: Anti-Assad Uprising, 2011
T
Tajikistan: Civil War, 1990s
Terrorism: Global History Since the 1940s
Thailand: Military Coup, 2006
Thailand: Muslim Rebellion, 2004–
Togo: Coups and Political Unrest, 1963–1990s
Turkey: Kurdish War Since 1984
U
Uganda: Anti-Amin Struggle, 1971–1979
Uganda: Civil Conflict Since 1980
United Nations
United States: War on Terrorism, 1990s–
Uruguay: Tupumaro Uprising, 1967–1985
Uzbekistan: Conflict with Islamists Since 1999
V
Venezuela: Anti-Chávez Movement Since 1999
Vietnam: First Indochina War, 1946–1954
Vietnam: Second Indochina War, 1959–1975
W
War and Weapons Conventions
Warsaw Pact
Western Sahara: Polisario-Moroccan War Since 1975
Y
Yemen: Anti-Government Uprising, 2011
Yemen: Civil War, 1960s–1980s
Z
Zimbabwe: Anti-Mugabe Struggle Since 1983
Zimbabwe: Struggle for Majority Rule, 1965–1980
Perhaps wars are inevitable. Perhaps some evil always needs to be resisted, and this sometimes requires us to kill people. You could even take this logic from the Bible, despite the correctives made by Jesus recorded in the same.
Here is a poem from Listing which I offer as my qualified remembering of what war is, grateful that I have lived in peace, despite what was happening in other parts of the world where soldiers were fighting in my name.
I have form. I was a social worker, and we have long been regarded as the ‘woke police’. I have also written previously about my feelings regarding so-called ‘political correctness’, saying this; If it is ‘political correctness’ to seek speak of people who have been broken and marginalised with dignity and respect- then I am all for political correctness. For some, these confessions will render invalid any further comment on what ‘woke’ might mean, and that is part of the problem. The debate is so polarised, so politicised, so that it has become almost impossible to be thoughtful or neutral.
Given the normally pejorative way we hear the word ‘woke’ used, it may be a surprise (or perhaps not) to hear that the word began as black resistance against prejudice and oppression. It was almost unheard of until it began to be used as a call to stay awake following the killing of Michael Brown in Missouri by police in 2014. In the febrile partisan (and institutionally racist) US environment, the term soon began to be used as a single-word summation of leftist political ideology, centered on social justice politics and critical race theory. This framing of “woke” wass soon entirely bipartisan: It was used as a shorthand for political progressiveness by the left, and as a denigration of leftist culture by the right.
The anti-woke backlash
How do we try to understand this new phenomena of antagonism towards all things ‘woke’? Is it just reactionary crankery, or perhaps something more sinister? On the right there appears to be a firm consensus that ‘woke’ liberalism is a direct enemy of ‘freedom’, defined loosely by the percieved (or actual) de-platforming of writers/artists/speakers whose views do not fit the liberal ideal. Liberalism is then seen as corrosive to the traditions of society.
It is of course notable that hose rendered victims by this woke liberalism are noticably different from the people that the original ‘wake up’ was meant to protect. They are whiter and from much more privileged backgrounds. Their victimhood is celebrated as surprise as much as outrage.
Meanwhile those pointing out the actual victims of widening inequality within society can be dismissed as ‘woke warriors’. In this way, we see a familiar switcharoo – a way to claim victimhood in the face of the victimhood of others, in a way that could be described as ‘gaslighting‘.
Perhaps there are real victims of woke liberalism; people whose views do not fit the mould, and so have been cast out of their positions as writers/broadcasters/journalists/speakers/comedians/musicians. I am sure Morissey would define himself as one of these. Or perhaps their freedom to hold certain views directly result in a lack of freedom for other people. There is no equivalence here, surely? Hundreds of years of slavery and exploitation weighed against the calling out of historians like Andrew Roberts and Lawrence James for their defense of Empire?
What motivates those who fight against the woke?
Here in the UK, we have a government at the end of its own extreme neoliberal rope. One of the sidenotes of Liz Truss and Suella Bravermans time in the public eye was their apparent commitment to fight the good fight against the woke. Who can forget this;
Nothing unites like a common enemy, and much of this feels like the search for just that. The puzzling thing for me is the degree to which it remains a successful ploy. People I respect seem genuine in their disgust at something that may or may not exist and is as easy to hold on to as smoke.
Are they seeing something I am not because of my own woke lefty prejudices? Or perhaps the sense of being boxed off from our own identities by the rise of something ‘other’ it iself a universal fear, particularly in a society in which our grounding and identity has been splintered and eroded by consumerised individualism. Without a strong sense of our own collective identity (we are above all social apes after all) we are all the more fearful of losing what we have left.
When we add things like replacement theory to this mix, it becomes highly toxic. Arguably it is this combination that has allowed the logic of the ‘toxic environment’ our government has proudly promoted in relation to refugees entering the UK.
Of course, the anti-woke backlash is not new. For example, it is fairly well understood now that British antipathy towards the European union that was finally consumated in the Brexit vote had its origins at least in part in the writings of the clown king himself, Boris Johnson, during his tenure as a right wing commentator. He was able to spread lies and distortions to create in the minds of the British public an idea of the EU as political correctness ‘gone mad’, characterised as a tangle of red tape and unbent bananas. This article in the Irish Times says it all. Johnson used the same old switcharoo, making victims where there were few if any.
In the USA, the stain left by the civil war has left racial fracture lines deep in the psyche of the nation. Racism and half-percieved fear-based prejudices are political engines exploited to this day, not least by Trump and his fanatical supporters. He has overtly supported far right groups and railed against the poor immigrants he wanted to keep behind his great big beautiful wall. When the facts of injustice were not on his side, the anti-woke blunderbus was aimed at critical race theory, as if this was the cause of the very problems it was trying to highlight.
If you are caught out in a lie (as Johnson and Trump have been repeatedly) most liars do not tell bigger lies, rather they find ways of making liars out of those who have called out the lies in the first place. This is the anti-woke trick – a way of nullifying injustice by whataboutary and putting on the clothes of victimhood. It is as old as the hills.
this fragile tent 