Sun
07-Nov-2004


a scintillation of silver bullets

Cycling along the canal to work this morning was lovely. The air was bitter cold, there was a hint of early morning dew because I was down by the canal, and the sun was piercing and bright, rising up behind the narrow boats and buildings lining the canal so I was squinting into a series of beautiful urban silhouettes. The light glittering on the canal surface was so intense this morning, dissolving me into the world with such a rush of joy.

I arrived at work wanting to drink coffee, which I don't often do at work. I have the poem by Rafael Jesús González running through my head:

'The Consecration of Coffee'
to Archbishop Oscar A. Romero

One day of god
drinking coffee in my patio
nothing is normal–
not the calla
with its penis of gold
nor the iris
like purple lava
a volcano spills.
I find in the depths of the cup
chasubles embroidered
with black moths
& red stains–
the sun fires
a scintillation of silver bullets
& of candles drowned–
there is blood in its shrine.
I place the cup on its saucer
with a most tender care
as if it were a chalice
& say the litany:
Guatemala
Nicaragua
El Salvador
& one side of my heart
tastes white & sweet
like cane sugar
& the other,
like coffee,
bitter & black.


 

managing britannia

I recently finished an excellent book called Managing Britannia, by Robert Protherough and John Pick. It's about the way that the idea of management has come to take over swathes of British life, bringing its own ethos, rules and vocabulary, imposing them on organisations which worked well beforehand, and wrecking them.

The book is quite polemical, but it mainly deals with areas where the effects of modern management has been particularly corrosive. The chapters where idiocy is most plain are those on schools and universities, and the NHS. In education, it is plain that the assault on the professional independence of teachers and the proliferation of central targets and tests and reforms has had appalling consequences. The chapters that criticise government attempts to understand the arts as an 'industry' are entertaining (particular disdain is piled upon Chris Smith in his time as Culture Secretary) but not always convincing. The authors are inclined to see the creation of DCMS and its forebears as a Stalinist project.

I like the way that they book points out how all this began in earnest under Thatcher in the 1980s. Despite their neoliberal rhetoric about 'little government' it was the Tories who oversaw the initial proliferation of central government management over every sphere of human life and endeavour. Blair and the control freaks of New Labour emerge as the natural heirs of Thatcherite Conservativism in their relentless multiplication of management bureaucracies and their ambitious attempts to bring all of British life under the tedious reductionism of evidence-based policy.


  

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