I just watched a fascinating documentary on Channel 4 On Demand. Would you save a stranger? An hour long documentary recounting the stories of people who have been victim to violence, and those who have watched others being subject to violence and their consequent response.
In a week that has seen a local man randomly stabbed to death just round the corner from my home here in Manchester this documentary raises realistic and timely questions about the way in which we both as individuals and a society address violence when exposed to it in this often shocking and brutal way.
Very often we read in the media about somebody taking a beating or even being killed. Yet we can distance oursleves from it and, very often we cannot envisage or may not even consider what our own reaction would be in that situation.
For most of us, the violence that we encounter comes through a televsion screen. A re-enactment, actors working through a sequence, jerky black and white CCTV images. By now we are used to seeing this kind of content on a regular basis. However, for those unfortunate enough to encounter this king of violence in real life, our reaction is often exactly the same as the one we provide from the couch when watching TV. We sit still and we gawp.
When I lived in North East London, I read an article in the Guardian written by a woman who had been on a bus in Islington when another passenger was stabbed on his way home from work. On a bus full of people, she was the only one who went to his aid. As he died in her arms, she asked another passenger for his coat so she could wrap it around the victim because he was shivvering. He said no because he didnt want to get blood on it. No one offered any support even after the attack was over and the attacker was long gone.
As far as I can tell there are two reasons why someone would not go to the aid of someone in immediate distress:
1. They have a serious concern for their own safety
2. They believe someone else will - or is already - dealing with the problem
I think it is entirely reasonable that a lone female should not try to tackle ten men beating someone up. She should certainly try and get someone's attention and call the police. However, for a bus full of grown men to sit and watch a 13 year old girl get her head stamped on is pitiful, and to watch this documentary was at times totally infuriating.
Similarly, there were two men featured on the programme who had gone to the aid of an attack victim. One died of a stab wound to the heart and another was stabbed five times but survived. The beauty of this documentary was that it was objective. It didnt judge those who did or did not intervene, and it highlighted the contradictory elements of the "Should I?, Shouldn't I?" question.
I once taught a man in prison who had stamped on someones head until they were dead. I asked him why he kept going, why he didn't stop. He said if only someone had pulled him away he knows he would have left the man alone. He infact blamed the lack of action of others for the mans death.
Would I help a stranger? Yes, I think I would, because I would look to others for help if I found myself in a situation where I could no longer defend myself.
Friday, 3 April 2009
Monday, 19 January 2009
Potty Protests, Pink Parrots and Zip Lines
Every now and again I tune into a web based alternative news portal called LiveLeak.com. It is a viral collection of videos from around the world. usually captured on handheld cameras and mobile phones, they are typically the things that dont make it onto the mainstream news, or are an alternative viewpoint of the issues that do.
The thing about LiveLeak is that its raw and often unedited. Feeds are often placed on the site directly from personal cameras and are not subject to censure. You can be right in the action with British troops in Afghanistan or in the crowd at a Barack Obama pep rally.
I love the psychology of bandwagons and, this past few weeks has seen almost every former hippy, powerliberal, and bandwagoner get on the Gaza Strip boat. Please don't assume that I condone Israel and its actions, a lot of people have died and some of the scenes have been truly shocking. I am not talking about Israel and the Gaza Strip today. I am talking about ineffective protesters.
I tuned into LiveLeak.com this week and came across a video that was taken from within a pro-Arab protest in London. It essentially involved a gang of young British asian men leading a "protest". By protest I mean they were marching on the police with such force that they could not be contained, they were goading the Police to fight with them, shouting racist insults, throwing traffic cones, bricks, bottles, anything they could get their hands on. For the several minutes that the video lasted, I couldn't help but wonder what they were aiming to achieve. Normally you would expect that a protest would strive to get a message across, to get people on board, to win some exposure. Yet by being so aggressive, hurling bricks and generally acting yobbish, whilst at the same time yelling "Allahu Akbar", I can only assume that their cause wasn't inundated with new recruits.
I wear a Palestine scarf, I'm no political activist, Im just fashionable. I also wear some geek chic glasses and a flat cap, but it doesn't mean I'm a chimney sweep, even though I do talk a bit like the legend that was Fred Dibnah. My selection of scarf however, has made me the target of pro gaza campaigners. They think I'm all on board, one dreadlocked student even tried to recruit me to stand behind his desk on Market Street in Manchester. He was called "Snoops" and he couldn't tell me anything about the history of the Arab/Israeli conflict. His awkwardness and the "you're a numpty" look on my face was enough to cement my release.
Similarly on the protest front, the "highly criticised" third runway at Heathrow airport seems to be getting nothing but bad press. A whole village will be destroyed and Joe Bloggs was even on the radio complaining about having to move house after 30 years. He didnt mention how much compensation he will get though, and if h has been there 30 years he could probably do with a change. We are in a recession and we seem distraught by a new runway despite the fact that it will create 65,000 new jobs, not to mention the money spending visitors it will facilitate and aircraft carbon emmissions are a third less than they were ten years ago, and they are still going down.
The point I am trying to make is that there are plenty of ineffective protesters about these days. If you stand in the street shouting "Free Gaza" what are you actually going to achieve? I often wonder if protesters actually think that the powers that be will notice and say "oh look, we've annoyed those people outside the BBC in Manchester, do you think we should tame it down a bit and just let Hamas fire rockets at us and hope for the best?". In this age of modern technology, surely there is no need to stand out in the cold and wave banners. Surely things have moved on and well placed emails and letters to MP's, MEP's and Newspapers are going to have more effect. Some of the Heathrow Airport protesters were pretty clever this week and actually bought a piece of land that the new runway will cover, and they are outright refusing to sell it. Good for them, it wil truly throw a spanner in the works. That's how you do it.
In other news, in 16 hours America will inaugrate its first black President. A rather cool pilot became the first in history to ditch a fully loaded aircraft in water and have everyone survive. The Royal Bank of Scotland reported a 90% drop in profits and I couldnt help but think "it serves you right for charging me £38 for exceeding my overdraft, you fatcat muppets". There are 3 bright red Australian parrots vacationing on Whalley Range in Manchester. The other night (and armed with a very large pepper grinder) I chased a robber out of my back garden at 1:30am, and yesterday a 12 year old zip lined into my front garden with the use of some dodgy old rope and the tree across the street. I can't help but think that they are using our house as a training ground for some high profile Oceans Eleven style robbery.
The thing about LiveLeak is that its raw and often unedited. Feeds are often placed on the site directly from personal cameras and are not subject to censure. You can be right in the action with British troops in Afghanistan or in the crowd at a Barack Obama pep rally.
I love the psychology of bandwagons and, this past few weeks has seen almost every former hippy, powerliberal, and bandwagoner get on the Gaza Strip boat. Please don't assume that I condone Israel and its actions, a lot of people have died and some of the scenes have been truly shocking. I am not talking about Israel and the Gaza Strip today. I am talking about ineffective protesters.
I tuned into LiveLeak.com this week and came across a video that was taken from within a pro-Arab protest in London. It essentially involved a gang of young British asian men leading a "protest". By protest I mean they were marching on the police with such force that they could not be contained, they were goading the Police to fight with them, shouting racist insults, throwing traffic cones, bricks, bottles, anything they could get their hands on. For the several minutes that the video lasted, I couldn't help but wonder what they were aiming to achieve. Normally you would expect that a protest would strive to get a message across, to get people on board, to win some exposure. Yet by being so aggressive, hurling bricks and generally acting yobbish, whilst at the same time yelling "Allahu Akbar", I can only assume that their cause wasn't inundated with new recruits.
I wear a Palestine scarf, I'm no political activist, Im just fashionable. I also wear some geek chic glasses and a flat cap, but it doesn't mean I'm a chimney sweep, even though I do talk a bit like the legend that was Fred Dibnah. My selection of scarf however, has made me the target of pro gaza campaigners. They think I'm all on board, one dreadlocked student even tried to recruit me to stand behind his desk on Market Street in Manchester. He was called "Snoops" and he couldn't tell me anything about the history of the Arab/Israeli conflict. His awkwardness and the "you're a numpty" look on my face was enough to cement my release.
Similarly on the protest front, the "highly criticised" third runway at Heathrow airport seems to be getting nothing but bad press. A whole village will be destroyed and Joe Bloggs was even on the radio complaining about having to move house after 30 years. He didnt mention how much compensation he will get though, and if h has been there 30 years he could probably do with a change. We are in a recession and we seem distraught by a new runway despite the fact that it will create 65,000 new jobs, not to mention the money spending visitors it will facilitate and aircraft carbon emmissions are a third less than they were ten years ago, and they are still going down.
The point I am trying to make is that there are plenty of ineffective protesters about these days. If you stand in the street shouting "Free Gaza" what are you actually going to achieve? I often wonder if protesters actually think that the powers that be will notice and say "oh look, we've annoyed those people outside the BBC in Manchester, do you think we should tame it down a bit and just let Hamas fire rockets at us and hope for the best?". In this age of modern technology, surely there is no need to stand out in the cold and wave banners. Surely things have moved on and well placed emails and letters to MP's, MEP's and Newspapers are going to have more effect. Some of the Heathrow Airport protesters were pretty clever this week and actually bought a piece of land that the new runway will cover, and they are outright refusing to sell it. Good for them, it wil truly throw a spanner in the works. That's how you do it.
In other news, in 16 hours America will inaugrate its first black President. A rather cool pilot became the first in history to ditch a fully loaded aircraft in water and have everyone survive. The Royal Bank of Scotland reported a 90% drop in profits and I couldnt help but think "it serves you right for charging me £38 for exceeding my overdraft, you fatcat muppets". There are 3 bright red Australian parrots vacationing on Whalley Range in Manchester. The other night (and armed with a very large pepper grinder) I chased a robber out of my back garden at 1:30am, and yesterday a 12 year old zip lined into my front garden with the use of some dodgy old rope and the tree across the street. I can't help but think that they are using our house as a training ground for some high profile Oceans Eleven style robbery.
Saturday, 15 November 2008
The Mighty Fallen
There were a number of things I planned to blog about this evening:-
1. My sister and her limitless talent as an urban artist has once again caused some controversy following a newspaper article about her role teaching young people from sheffield how to "do graffiti". I think controversy is good when it comes to publicity, but I really do wish she would make more use of her free of charge PR guy brother before she jumps in with these wet behind the ears, out for a scoop journo's working the local rags (learn to take a hint sis).
2. The rugby team I play for each Saturday conceding its ninth consecutive defeat was also high on my list. The Didsbury 3rd team seem to be having less luck than a final destinaton movie, and I have sore shins.
3. The fact that I have become completely and utterly obsessed with this years X Factor, mostly because of our home girl from Blackburn Diana Vickers, but also because I simply love to watch the way they run things. The PR stunts, the media scandals, the emotive editing. They must be making a bloody fortune.
4. The entire staffteam of numpties who work at the Vodafone store on Market Street in Manchester. It seems a maximum IQ of 49 and a fancy hairdo are the only pre-requisites to employment there.
But then I watched The Fallen, a feature length docufilm that provides a candid and often brutal insight into the lives of the families who have been left behind following the deaths of their loved ones in Afghanistan and Iraq. I could not help but feel a pang of dissapointment in myself for being so self concerned and ignorant, shouting insults at the X factor whilst kicking back and enjoying a few cheapo Asda beers and feeling sorry for my lightly bruised rugby shins whilst wondering whether my housemate Greg will notice that I nicked one of his Rocky Robins.
I know a lot of lads who are completely Army Barmy. They know that when they go into the theatre of conflict they are at risk of injury or death. Some enjoy the thrill, some just want to survive and come home. Yet there is an amount of the "it wont happen to me" ideology that exists amongst them. It was truly heart wrenching to delve into the lives of the surviving families and to see how they handle the flood of emotion that wells up within them when they talk of their fallen sons and daughters. This was a film that truly needed to be made. When we see the news of another soldier dead in Afghanistan, there is little we can do to relate or associate oursleves with their life. We often fail to realise or understand the enourmosity of their death. A name, a rank and regiment, their age, perhaps the name of their hometown. Then we close the page and go back to our spreadsheet or overpriced coffee.
What we dont see is the shot that enters through the side of the flack jacket, into the kidneys and up through the spine and into a lung. We dont see the desperate attempts of close friends to fashion a stretcher from combat jackets and branches. We dont see the team of medics battling on the Chinook elbow deep in blood to save a 19 year old life that they watch ebb away. We dont think about the mental trauma that being part of this brings to his fellow infantrymen. We dont think about how the family accept the news. We dont think about the empty bedroom their son wont come back to or how a widow comes to terms with sleeping alone in a double bed.
I am guilty of turning the page and moving on. Almost a year ago to the day I was in the front rank of the Duke of Lancasters Infantry Regiment parade on Rememberance Day. As we marched off the square following the service the hundreds of people in attendance began to applaud and cheer. It was at that point I realised that we turn the page not because we dont care, but because we simply struggle to relate and because we are pretty powerless to do much else.
So The Fallen was a very appropriate film, because it allows us to relate to the realities of what happens to the soldiers of the British Army and their families. The next time I see a story of another soldier dead in Afghanistan or Iraq I will certainly take a moment to reflect on just how lucky I am before going back to my spreadsheet.
1. My sister and her limitless talent as an urban artist has once again caused some controversy following a newspaper article about her role teaching young people from sheffield how to "do graffiti". I think controversy is good when it comes to publicity, but I really do wish she would make more use of her free of charge PR guy brother before she jumps in with these wet behind the ears, out for a scoop journo's working the local rags (learn to take a hint sis).
2. The rugby team I play for each Saturday conceding its ninth consecutive defeat was also high on my list. The Didsbury 3rd team seem to be having less luck than a final destinaton movie, and I have sore shins.
3. The fact that I have become completely and utterly obsessed with this years X Factor, mostly because of our home girl from Blackburn Diana Vickers, but also because I simply love to watch the way they run things. The PR stunts, the media scandals, the emotive editing. They must be making a bloody fortune.
4. The entire staffteam of numpties who work at the Vodafone store on Market Street in Manchester. It seems a maximum IQ of 49 and a fancy hairdo are the only pre-requisites to employment there.
But then I watched The Fallen, a feature length docufilm that provides a candid and often brutal insight into the lives of the families who have been left behind following the deaths of their loved ones in Afghanistan and Iraq. I could not help but feel a pang of dissapointment in myself for being so self concerned and ignorant, shouting insults at the X factor whilst kicking back and enjoying a few cheapo Asda beers and feeling sorry for my lightly bruised rugby shins whilst wondering whether my housemate Greg will notice that I nicked one of his Rocky Robins.
I know a lot of lads who are completely Army Barmy. They know that when they go into the theatre of conflict they are at risk of injury or death. Some enjoy the thrill, some just want to survive and come home. Yet there is an amount of the "it wont happen to me" ideology that exists amongst them. It was truly heart wrenching to delve into the lives of the surviving families and to see how they handle the flood of emotion that wells up within them when they talk of their fallen sons and daughters. This was a film that truly needed to be made. When we see the news of another soldier dead in Afghanistan, there is little we can do to relate or associate oursleves with their life. We often fail to realise or understand the enourmosity of their death. A name, a rank and regiment, their age, perhaps the name of their hometown. Then we close the page and go back to our spreadsheet or overpriced coffee.
What we dont see is the shot that enters through the side of the flack jacket, into the kidneys and up through the spine and into a lung. We dont see the desperate attempts of close friends to fashion a stretcher from combat jackets and branches. We dont see the team of medics battling on the Chinook elbow deep in blood to save a 19 year old life that they watch ebb away. We dont think about the mental trauma that being part of this brings to his fellow infantrymen. We dont think about how the family accept the news. We dont think about the empty bedroom their son wont come back to or how a widow comes to terms with sleeping alone in a double bed.
I am guilty of turning the page and moving on. Almost a year ago to the day I was in the front rank of the Duke of Lancasters Infantry Regiment parade on Rememberance Day. As we marched off the square following the service the hundreds of people in attendance began to applaud and cheer. It was at that point I realised that we turn the page not because we dont care, but because we simply struggle to relate and because we are pretty powerless to do much else.
So The Fallen was a very appropriate film, because it allows us to relate to the realities of what happens to the soldiers of the British Army and their families. The next time I see a story of another soldier dead in Afghanistan or Iraq I will certainly take a moment to reflect on just how lucky I am before going back to my spreadsheet.
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
The Mountain of Martin
At 4am this morning Barack Obama reached the summit of the proverbial mountain that represents the struggle that has befallen the black people of the United States throughout that countrys history.
This afternoon I crossed the road to visit the Urbis museum in Manchester to find a group of school children winding their way through an exhibition that tells the complex and violent story of the Black Panther movement of the years gone by. The lives of Malcom X, Martin Luther King, John and Edward Kennedy -all advocates of black rights in the United States - which were taken so violently and tragically can now be remembered as the true and real foundations for what has happened in the United States within the last 24 hours. In 1963 Martin Luther King conveyed his dream that his four little children would one day live in a world where they would be judged not by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character. Today his only surviving daughter Bernice sat and wept as she saw elected the first black president of the United States.
It's not only the fact that Barack Obama is black that is important - that issue sits to serve as a contrast between the social constructs of modern america and the america of decades gone by - but it is the fact that he bears such inspiration, vigour, youthfulness, appeal and grit that matters the most. I will certainly be watching his progress with great interest. Well done the Democrats.
In other news, a 50 foot high effigy of Jonothan Ross and Russel Brand will be burned this weekend in response to their recent faux pas on BBC Radio 2, and here I am talking about civil rights and humanity in modern times.
This afternoon I crossed the road to visit the Urbis museum in Manchester to find a group of school children winding their way through an exhibition that tells the complex and violent story of the Black Panther movement of the years gone by. The lives of Malcom X, Martin Luther King, John and Edward Kennedy -all advocates of black rights in the United States - which were taken so violently and tragically can now be remembered as the true and real foundations for what has happened in the United States within the last 24 hours. In 1963 Martin Luther King conveyed his dream that his four little children would one day live in a world where they would be judged not by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character. Today his only surviving daughter Bernice sat and wept as she saw elected the first black president of the United States.
It's not only the fact that Barack Obama is black that is important - that issue sits to serve as a contrast between the social constructs of modern america and the america of decades gone by - but it is the fact that he bears such inspiration, vigour, youthfulness, appeal and grit that matters the most. I will certainly be watching his progress with great interest. Well done the Democrats.
In other news, a 50 foot high effigy of Jonothan Ross and Russel Brand will be burned this weekend in response to their recent faux pas on BBC Radio 2, and here I am talking about civil rights and humanity in modern times.
Monday, 27 October 2008
God bless public transport
Manchester will soon have a referendum on whether to introduce a congestion charge for traffic coming into our fair city. I just spent 1 hour and 15 minutes on an early morning bus which brought me 6.8 miles into work on a road which seemed totally bare of cars. I would like to write more but I cant, because I'm late. God bless public transport.
Wednesday, 8 October 2008
The Bravery of Tom Buckley
3 years ago I had a phone call from my tearful and nervous mother, my little sister Sarah had been diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukaemia, aged 18. After a fourth demand, a local GP had finally agreed to give my sister a blood test to try and explain her lethargy. A day later she was admitted to the Christie Hospital Young Oncology Unit as an inpatient, she would end up staying there for six months. This aggressive cancer of the blood had ridden my sister of her immune system and loomed ominously over her life. Having lost our Grandfather to Cancer just months before we were nervous about the prognosis. My sister, it seems, is a fighter (she obviously learned a lot from her brother) and she responded very well to her treatment with an attitude that would make Lance Armstrong proud. Today she is well on the road to recovery has become such an infamous street artist that she competes with Banksy. My sisters story however, is not the one I intend to tell today.
During that time at the Young Oncology Unit at the Christie Hospital in Manchester, we became involved with the people there. We ran fundraising campaigns and became friends with the nurses who cared so well for my sister. My sister established lasting friendships with the other young people on the ward, all members of families undergoing the turmoil that comes with addressing the mortality of a loved one, particularly at a young age. One such individual was a young man by the name of Tom Buckley. After four years of treatment, countless operations and a great deal of hope, he has this month been told that he has less than a year to live. So with one false knee and a declining level of health he has decided to complete the most difficult task he could think of and will walk from one coast of the UK to the other next month. All proceeds going to the Young Oncology Unit that has cared for him.
If you want to support Tom Buckley in achieveing his goal, go to:- http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.justgiving.com%2Fthebuckers&h=17fd8244b725e74945b655e27cc6b291
During that time at the Young Oncology Unit at the Christie Hospital in Manchester, we became involved with the people there. We ran fundraising campaigns and became friends with the nurses who cared so well for my sister. My sister established lasting friendships with the other young people on the ward, all members of families undergoing the turmoil that comes with addressing the mortality of a loved one, particularly at a young age. One such individual was a young man by the name of Tom Buckley. After four years of treatment, countless operations and a great deal of hope, he has this month been told that he has less than a year to live. So with one false knee and a declining level of health he has decided to complete the most difficult task he could think of and will walk from one coast of the UK to the other next month. All proceeds going to the Young Oncology Unit that has cared for him.
If you want to support Tom Buckley in achieveing his goal, go to:- http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.justgiving.com%2Fthebuckers&h=17fd8244b725e74945b655e27cc6b291
A humble homecoming!
About a month ago I had a meeting with the Events and PR manager for Manchester City Council. I had heard on the grapevine that the council were planning an Olympic homecoming celebration for the North West members of Team GB who performed so well this summer in Beijing. Having watched the Olympics with a great deal of pride for our athletes, I wanted to get involved in making this event a success. So, I offered to run a month long direct email campaign that would target 10,000 employees in the Manchester City Centre area. Since the event was to be at 6pm, they would make an ideal audience for the celebration, people being able join the festivities directly after work. This would normally cost several thousand pounds, but I convinced the company I work for that it was a public service and that we should do it for free.
My contact at the council loved the idea and could not thank us enough. She felt that she needed all the support she could get due to her limited budget and resources. We struck the deal and went to work. Two days later, whilst our programmers and designers were working on the first part of the campaign, I received a regretful call saying that unfortunately Manchester City Council would not be taking advantage of our services. It seems that the beurocratic machine of the public sector had once again ploughed progress to a stop. Our plan needed to be agreed by "the partners" of the event and it seemed someone thought they could handle it on their own.
I don't like to say "I told you so", but last night I wondered down to Albert Square in Manchester to watch the event and was quietly satisfied to see the area that easily held 9000 Glasgow Rangers fans earlier this year playing host to no more than 150 attendees of the Olympic Homecoming Ceremony, most of which were the families and friends of the athletes themselves.
Our athletes in Beijing did a fantastic job and their success deserves to be celebrated. This event could have been a huge success, yet the council chose to assume that people would turn out merely through word of mouth. The dissapointment on the faces of the athletes was obvious to see when they realised just how few had turned out and I felt like telling them that it is not apathy of the people of the North West that caused this but red tape, bad organisation and most importantly, a real lack of effective communication on behalf of Manchester City Council.
My contact at the council loved the idea and could not thank us enough. She felt that she needed all the support she could get due to her limited budget and resources. We struck the deal and went to work. Two days later, whilst our programmers and designers were working on the first part of the campaign, I received a regretful call saying that unfortunately Manchester City Council would not be taking advantage of our services. It seems that the beurocratic machine of the public sector had once again ploughed progress to a stop. Our plan needed to be agreed by "the partners" of the event and it seemed someone thought they could handle it on their own.
I don't like to say "I told you so", but last night I wondered down to Albert Square in Manchester to watch the event and was quietly satisfied to see the area that easily held 9000 Glasgow Rangers fans earlier this year playing host to no more than 150 attendees of the Olympic Homecoming Ceremony, most of which were the families and friends of the athletes themselves.
Our athletes in Beijing did a fantastic job and their success deserves to be celebrated. This event could have been a huge success, yet the council chose to assume that people would turn out merely through word of mouth. The dissapointment on the faces of the athletes was obvious to see when they realised just how few had turned out and I felt like telling them that it is not apathy of the people of the North West that caused this but red tape, bad organisation and most importantly, a real lack of effective communication on behalf of Manchester City Council.
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