BLOG POSTS

Is America a democracy, or has it secretly metamorphosed into a closet theocracy?

For a country once so proud of its traditions – the land where freedom of religion was always hailed as sacrosanct and the separation of church and state set in Constitutional concrete – there is a awful lot of emphasis these days on a politician’s religious belief systems.

This is really nothing new, of course. When JFK was campaigning for the presidency in the sixties, his Catholic affiliations led many to question his suitability for the highest office. This week Mitt Romney, a Mormon, is taking a leaf out of Kennedy’s book by making a speech to Republicans clarifying his religious position in the hope it’ll gain him additional support.

Giuliani has slid backwards down the polls due to an unacceptably irreligious lifestyle, and Barack Obama has gone to great lengths emphasizing his Christian, rather than Muslim, beliefs.

Why are these factors relevant in today’s United States? If freedom of religion is truly sacrosanct, should it matter if Obama were a Muslim, or if Giuliani is, in reality, a closet atheist? Do a person’s religious beliefs effect their ability to carry out the duties of the Office of President of the United States, given the Constitutional separation laid down by the Founding Fathers?

Or, has the concrete begun to crack?

Much has been said and written about the present incumbent’s beliefs and his reliance on divine inspiration in the business of decision making. Given his record over the last eight years, it hardly seems a dependable way to run a kid’s tea party, let alone a nation, yet millions of Americans find any other method unacceptable.

What about the millions of non-Christians living in this country? It would appear they have no political voice at all. As one who happens to consider orthodox religious belief a serious handicap to life, I don’t particularly relish having someone with that sort of impediment running the affairs of state. Yet it would seem I have no choice.

In a true democracy a politician’s religion, if he has one, should have no bearing, either on his ability to secure sufficient votes, or to do the job he was elected for.

Recently, ex-British prime minister Tony Blair disclosed to the world that he kept his religious faith under wraps for the years he was in office, for fear it would cost him votes. The British people knew he was a Christian, but they couldn’t care less. He could have been a Buddhist or a Hindu, or even a Muslim, and it wouldn’t have been a problem just so long as he didn’t demand the whole British Parliament bowed five times to Mecca every day.

You see, that’s what a democracy is all about; not caring how people are, or what they believe, just so long as they keep it to themselves and don’t interfere in the lives of others.

Some insist there was once a time when America was like that?

Webster’s dictionary defines a theocracy thus:

“government of a state by immediate divine guidance or by officials who are regarded as divinely guided”

Everyone of the front runners, both Democrat and Republican, in the present race for their party’s nomination has stated categorically that their Christian religious belief is the prime guiding factor in their lives and work.

Is America still a democracy, or has it secretly metamorphosed into a closet theocracy?

Filed under: Whose country?

Sparrow Chat originally birthed as a Blogger site way back in 2003. Most of the old posts were lost when the site moved to a WordPress format last year, but a few are still on my hard-drive, and I’ve recently been perusing them. Some cause a flinch, but a few are, perhaps, worthy of re-issue. See what you think. I’ve decided to throw the odd one into the pot of literary stew for you to sample and offer your comments.

Here’s one from January 29th, 2005. I don’t remember its original title, but it’s an old British hobby, so I’ll call it simply:

“HAVING A GO AT THE GERMANS”

“My grandmother swore by Irish linen. She wouldn’t have any other bed linen in her house. She used to say, “You only ever have to buy your Irish linen once, it’ll last you a lifetime.” She was right. My mother is eighty-two, but she still has some of Grandma’s Irish linen bed sheets in her closet to this day.

When I was younger, I lusted after an Audi motor car. The German Audi saloon looked so sleek and elegant. Every time one passed by I would stare hypnotically and drool with envy. Years later, I had the opportunity to own an Audi. Grinning with eager anticipation, I slid into plush seats ready for the thrill of the test drive. On returning to the showroom, I said, “Sorry, no thanks” to the salesman and walked disappointedly away. I know German industry took a bashing after WW2, but that was no reason, as I saw, to build their suspensions out of old, cast-iron, railway tracks. Maybe they didn’t – but that’s what it felt like.

Not that I have anything against the Germans, you understand. Well, ok, – tales of Major Pete “Hun-Hunter” Madison single-handedly casting dread into the Third Reich and seeing off half the German army with much “Achtung –ing” and “Donner und Blitzen-ing” to accompany their downfall, was prevalent in British comics when I was a boy, and I guess such indoctrinal nonsense may have penetrated my psyche just a little, but overall I have no axe to grind with the German people.

Neither did I totally believe the rumor, circulated around Spanish seaside resorts in the mid-seventies by the British, that German tourists, still in their night attire, sneaked from their hotel rooms before dawn to lay beach towels on the sand nearest to the bathing areas, with the sole intention of keeping us Brits from acquiring the best spots. Though I have to admit, finding the only vacant bit of sand on three miles of beach to be only feet away from the main Barcelona highway, where getting a tan meant risking asphyxiation from diesel fumes, didn’t do much for Anglo-Gallic entente cordiale.

Trekking half a mile to the sea, across a beach packed with guttural-sounding, sweaty German bodies toasting in the hot, Mediterranean sun was not normally my idea of heaven, but the consolation for me, as a young man on holiday and vainly seeking sexual adventure, was the glorious views of young German womanhood basking on the sand about me. Trends on certain Spanish beaches in the seventies allowed for woman to discard their bikini tops without fear of arrest. Even where laws didn’t permit such activities, the smaller villages usually sported only one policeman; an archetypical, bloated, heavily mustached, macho cop married to a middle-aged and overweight Spanish matron with half a dozen kids at home, who happily spent official duty time sat in his car on the edge of the sand, binoculars raised, and scanning the mammary-littered beach with obvious sexual relish.

The German female is typically big and blonde, with breasts to match. Stepping lightly between and around such a boob-fest often resulted in stumbling onto the bodies of German males, as eyes on stalks riveted on their girl-friend’s anatomy failed to gauge where I was walking. Causing discomfort to the glorious female’s mate was simply an additional bonus, so long as he wasn’t too big of course, in which case a hasty apology and rapid retreat were the order of the day.

A few months ago my ten year old, British electric razor groaned its last. Not wishing to return to those primitive times when we sloshed lather over our faces and scraped, I took a trip to Wal-Mart intent on researching the latest in razor technology. The home brands looked a bit cheap and nasty, and while the Japanese are renowned for their electronics I somehow didn’t fancy my electric shaver having ‘Panasonic’ stamped on it – for reasons even I couldn’t quite determine – so I eventually selected an expensive, sleek, and powerful-looking model manufactured by Braun.

Once home with my new acquisition, I eagerly unpacked the gleaming monster from its preformed plastic housing, determined on a test drive without delay. Alas – it was the Audi motor car all over again. I knew Braun was a German company even before I bought the razor – but hey! – how long are these people going to continue using old, cast-iron, railway tracks to build their products? This is the 21st century for goodness sake!

Just like the motor car, their shaver looks good, but doesn’t feel good. The ride it gave my face was as hard and uncomfortable as the jolting their motor car delivered to my backside. And the razor doesn’t shave properly. It is heavy, causing my hand to ache long before I am finished shaving, and leaves an unacceptable stubble. I even spent further money replacing the foil and cutters, in a vain attempt to make it work.

I have pleasant memories of an Irish folk group – the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem – who, back in the seventies, entertained audiences throughout the world with their songs and comic banter. One of my favorites was a song simply called, “William Bloat”*. It tells the tale of a Protestant Irishman who suffers from a nagging wife. One day William determines to do away with her. He takes his razor and slits her throat, but then, in a fit of remorse decides to “hang himself from the pantry shelf”, using the bed sheets as a rope. After soundly cursing the Pope he leaps to his death, and the eternal fires of Hell, never realizing that his wife survives. The last line of the song finishes thus:

“He went to Hell for his wife as well – but she’s still alive and sinnin’
For the razor blade was German made – but the rope was Belfast linen”

* Sadly the original Clancy Bros YouTube video has been removed for copyright reasons, so this link is to, in my opinion, a much inferior version by a group called the “Jolly Rogers”.

Filed under: Sparrow archives

My last post dealt with the injustices, at least as seen through these Western eyes, of Sharia law; it’s harshness and lack of humanity. Since writing that article another Muslim/Western crisis has arisen, one I originally determined not to comment on as I had no wish to appear anti-Muslim, but as the Western media seems determined to whip up an anti-Islamic frenzy (at least, in America) I feel the need to instill a little understanding, if not sanity, to the situation.

The event referred to is the imprisonment in Sudan of British school teacher, Gillian Gibbons, for naming an innocent teddy bear, Mohammad.

In truth, however, my subject goes way beyond this single event. In many ways the jailing of Gillian Gibbons results from eighteen Saudi Arabian, and one Egyptian, hijackers committing the acts we now know simply as 9/11. Except, it was not so much from that act, as from the aftermath, that arose the events leading to Mrs Gibbon’s ordeal.

Recently, a blogger friend asked me this question:

“When you are outraged, do the words just flow or do you take time to pick and choose and rewrite?

Many years ago I learned perhaps one of the greatest and most relevant lessons it is possible for we humans to comprehend. It consists of just three words, which if we all adhered to them, would change the world we live in almost overnight.

It is this: “Don’t react; respond.”

Like everyone else, I get outraged at the many heinous crimes afflicting humanity today. Sometimes, I receive comments or emails railing against views I have chosen to express. I have a choice: either to react to those vituperations with similar rhetoric, or to calmly analyze what the protagonist is saying and offer my own measured response.

To answer the blogger friend’s question, when I am outraged I find it better to do nothing until the rage is passed, then I no longer feel the need to react, and I can address the subject with at least a modicum of logic and impartiality.

What has this to do with Gillian Gibbons and 9/11?

In the aftermath of 9/11, the world turned its sympathy and love towards the United States. Had America, in turn, chosen to respond to that sympathetic element, this planet would today be a different place altogether. Instead, under George W Bush, America chose to react to 9/11. We all know the results of that reaction. The aftermath has produced a split in the world between East and West. Muslims view the reaction of America to 9/11 as a holy war against Islam. The incumbent US administration has done nothing to counter that view.

America is known as a powerful nation and Muslims worldwide are frightened and insecure, fearing their religion will be taken away from them by the “Evil Satan” of America.

Let me suggest a possible scenario. First, I would point out that while teddy bears are imprinted in the Western psyche as cuddly, adorable, toys designed to make kids (and the more mature among us) feel secure and loved, this is not the case for Islamic children. Stuffed toys are not part of the Eastern culture. A bear is considered a violent, dangerous, animal in most parts of the Islamic world, so a stuffed one called Mohammad is tantamount to calling the the most holy prophet, violent and dangerous.

Now consider an American schoolteacher, say in Alabama or North Carolina, introducing the class to a pet mouse, and calling it “Jesus Christ”. Would not the strictly Evangelical Christian community raise vociferous objections to such a blasphemy?

I think so.

Don’t misunderstand; the charges against Mrs Gibbons are absurd in any logical person’s assessment. However, we’re not talking logic; this is not about response, it’s all about reaction.

The reaction from the more militant Islamic community in Sudan is based on fear. Fear of America, of the West, and most of all of George W Bush and his reactionary administration.

Most mature Islamic leaders, both in Sudan and throughout the world, condemn the reactionaries demanding Mrs Gibbon’s head on a silver platter, but it’s just another weapon for them to fight with. They know America is far too powerful to be kept at bay, should that nation choose to wage holy war against them. Mrs Gibbons is simply a pawn caught up in a reactionary game. Almost certainly, diplomacy will win the day and she’ll be released soon.

If you stamp hard on the paw of a dog, even a relatively friendly one, the sudden pain will cause it to instinctively try and bite you. It’s a pity that, as human beings, we have not yet evolved beyond the primitive instincts of a dog, and still have not learned that a considered response is superior to an instinctive reaction.

Filed under: Animal instincts