Proposed plans to shorten the forthcoming remembrance service at the Cenotaph, to limit the standing time for the 89-year-old Queen and veterans, have been shelved somewhat. The ceremony remains shorter, but, in the original proposal, the PM, David Cameron, would have laid his wreath alone, while representatives of the opposition parties would have laid wreaths simultaneously for the first time. Now, after undisclosed “discussions”, the plans have reverted to all the politicians laying their wreaths separately.
So what happened there? There are rumours of the changes being perceived as a snub. There’s also a hint that some did not care for Cameron laying his wreath alone, while the others were herded together. I agree with them, although only because my ideal scenario would have been Cameron laying his wreath in unison. For reasons that are beyond the understandable fatigue of the veterans and the Queen, I don’t fathom how any politician, or political party, could justify being entitled to pay their respects separately. Why should politics be such a major feature of this important and emotional national day?
Admittedly, some individuals irk more than others. Of course the PM must be there, but Cameron’s presence can’t help but gall when, back in April, the veterans’ transition review, carried out by Lord Ashcroft (the very same!), concluded that the greatest problem faced by former service personnel was stigma. (Translation: it’s the fault of the public and the media and, rather conveniently, won’t cost the government).
And while this isn’t about Tony Blair (though I understand why for some it always will be), why do any former PMs have to show up? If it’s to lend gravitas, does not the occasion already have plenty of that? If it’s to help maintain the event’s high profile, I’d say that this was an insult to the British public, who have persistently demonstrated that they care deeply about the ceremony and what it represents.
However, this isn’t really about individuals. It’s about the generalised jarring atmosphere of political one-upmanship that this mysterious scheduling dispute has thrown into sharp focus. Remembrance Sunday is about many things – honouring memories, of course, but it is also about providing a crucial shop window for the charities that help former service people. What Remembrance Sunday definitely isn’t about is an opportunity to further party ambitions or inflate political egos. It isn’t a spotlight to be coveted, monopolised, stolen or sulked about in the manner of a Hollywood starlet who has just found out that their best scene has been cut.
Is this unreasonable of me? Probably. I’d be the first to condemn a politician who refused to attend the ceremony or failed to behave respectfully. As this would be the first time at the Cenotaph for some politicians, I could be doing them a major disservice. Just as obviously there must be politicians whose genuine only wish is to represent their party by quietly paying their respects.
However, too often in the past, the whiff of self-aggrandising political theatre has become a distraction and an aggravation. I can’t be alone in having been irritated by the unedifying spectacle of Westminster’s leading lights seemingly grasping at the opportunity to demonstrate how wonderfully grave and statesman-like they can be. An anguished jaw-setting here; a wistful, faraway look there; an air of dramatised solemnity everywhere. Enough! Why can’t they just look normal?
Granted, it’s the world stage, but it doesn’t have to be treated quite so literally as a stage on which (sickeningly) to shine. Perhaps this year, one hopes, there could be an unofficial semi-ban on cameras panning on any diva-style “mugging” from current or former politicos, keeping their air time to a strict minimum. Slapping “the people’s …” prefix on everything fast became wearisome, but if ever there was a people’s ceremony, this is it.
I’ll check into the Shining museum on one condition...
There are plans to turn Colorado’s Stanley hotel, which inspired Stephen King to write The Shining, into a multimillion-dollar horror-museum-cum-exhibition-space-cum-film-festival-site.
Please don’t force me to intone “redrum”, as uttered by the boy Danny, in order to express my unease at this. The idea sounds upmarket enough (involving a collaboration with the Colorado film school). But I’m always, well, horrified, when people classify The Shining as horror. It is so much more – love, death, sex, madness, despair, family breakdown, innocence, evil, failure, sorrow… In short, it’s about everything.
In Stanley Kubrick’s film, the truly terrifying scenes are when Jack Torrance’s resentment towards his family is being slyly stoked by the ghostly staff, not the axe through the door tosh. Ultimately, The Shining surpasses horror and becomes a psychological supernatural genre-spanning thriller.
It’s silly to be precious (the Stanley is already on the tourist trail, offering guests a free redrum” mug, which I now deeply desire). However, if this development comes off, they need to carefully designate sub-genres. And there had better be an adult version of Danny’s trike for people like me to have a go on.
This is the true horror of Halloween
There’s been a row because the clothing site Asos put a bindi in its Halloween section. After complaints, it was removed but it all seems a tad ridiculous.
The Asos bindi (a bunch of forehead sequins) was hardly presenting itself as a Hindu religious artefact and, in my opinion was no more offensive than, say, those henna tattoos you get at music festivals, or permanently being one Google search away from being able to purchase a Buddha-style ashtray.
At most, this seems to be a reflection of the fact that our Halloween has become very Americanised of late. People are no longer dressing up as witches or zombies, but as anything they fancy and so there is a more disparate variety of costumes.
This isn’t really about a bunch of sequins for sale on Asos – it’s about anxieties surrounding cultural appropriation and ethnic or religious stereotypes. However, at Halloween, a time of year when costume versions of religious artefacts are so prominent – the crucifix, anyone? – it seems a little hair trigger to see something sinister in the Asos bindi. I’m not arguing that it was ever going to do wonders for assimilation, but neither do I think that it was offensive.
All this comes at a time when Theresa May has been criticised in some quarters for saying that the police are “too white”. To my mind, she was right to say so – institutionalised police racism has long been an issue and ethnic make-up of the officers needs to be addressed.
It seems odd that racism could be instantly spotted in a silly fashion bindi, but not in a genuine long-term social concern.
