In Dreams Awake

Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake.

(Henry David Thoreau)

Thursday 2 August 2018

Wired in our Bones

 In Britain, the Labour Party is currently tearing itself apart over anti-Semitism within the Party. The British Council of Jews has recommended that none of its members vote Labour. Meanwhile in Italy, the government has announced that it wants to make a census of the Roma in the country - a first step, often, towards persecution.

 It doesn't take much to reawaken hate, does it? A few years of hardship, a bit of struggle, and people start looking for someone to blame. And it's always the outsider they pick on. Jews, Roma, the Huguenots, whoever's convenient. Right now the EU is beginning to fragment and Britain is leaving it, which has brought controversy and pressure to them both. The reaction, among a shameful few, is racist.

 My wife had to tell me that Meghan Markle is mixed race. She also told me that one main character in the children's series "Go Jetters" is black. I honestly didn't notice. Probably this means I'm just not bothered enough about other people to pay attention (my wife's words again, hehe). It certainly means I'm not bothered enough about colour to notice. And how can you tell, by looking, if someone is Jewish? Or Muslim? Or Catholic?

 A few hundred years ago, people almost never left their home villages. The town twenty miles away might as well be on the Moon. Then, people distrusted anyone they didn't know, anyone from Away. They were racist towards folk just like themselves. Sometimes it seems that hate is wired in our bones. Wherever we are, in any society, we'll find someone to look down on, sneer at, belittle and besmirch.

 I try to portray a measure of reality in my worlds. I'll have a character scarred by polio, or someone stunted by a childhood with too little food. I'll even have racism. But I don't think I can plumb the depths of hate I see around me. Anti-Semitism, expel the Roma, Trump's dangerous demeaning of the Latino population. And yet I have to try, because that's a writer's job. I have to show enough of this horror to be realistic, and honest, but not enough to repel the reader.

 So I've found something about writing I don't like. Apologies for the bleakness of this post. Sometimes we need to face up to the ugliness though, because otherwise the ugliness wins.

 Take care.

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