Latest news with #OswaldMosley
Scotsman
2 days ago
- General
- Scotsman
Why today's culture warriors are marching to same beat as 1930s fascists
Sign up to our daily newsletter – Regular news stories and round-ups from around Scotland direct to your inbox Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... I'm probably the world's worst Aberdeen FC fan. When I lived in the city for five years, I didn't go to see them once and have been to perhaps half a dozen games in my lifetime, an average of one for every decade. When I belatedly remembered it was the Scottish Cup final on Saturday afternoon, I checked to see the score and watched the last 10 minutes of normal time. I was mildly pleased that the Dons won in the end. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad However the thing that struck me most was something I didn't quite like: the 'togetherness' of the crowd, the sea of red in the Aberdeen end and of green and white in the Celtic one. It felt like they were surrendering their individuality a little too enthusiastically. Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Union of Fascists, inspects a parade of supporters before calling off a march through London's East End in 1936 (Picture: Becker/Fox Photos) | Getty Images A loss of confidence Now, I realise that social togetherness is often a good thing, but there's a nasty side to it too. And in politics and society in general, it feels like 'identitarian' ideas are on the rise, as if people have lost confidence in themselves as individuals and increasingly see life through a clannish, tribal lens. There's safety in numbers, or so they say. It can be seen in an appalling remark by a member of Northern Irish rap band Kneecap at a 2023 gig – 'The only good Tory is a dead Tory. Kill your local MP' – and in the social media call by Lucy Connolly, a Conservative councillor's wife, for 'mass deportations' and for people to 'set fire' to 'all the hotels' containing those she wanted to deport, following the murders of three young girls in Southport last year. Connolly recently lost her appeal against a 31-month prison sentence for inciting racial hatred and police are currently considering the Kneecap rapper's comment. The band later offered their 'heartfelt apologies' to the families of murdered MPs David Ames and Jo Cox, saying they rejected 'any suggestion that we would seek to incite violence against any MP or individual' and that 'an extract of footage, deliberately taken out of all context, is now being exploited and weaponised, as if it were a call to action'. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Nothing to do with Southport murders However, in of themselves, the remarks strip members of a particular group – Conservatives or asylum seekers – of their right to be treated as an individual. In Connolly's mind, when she posted on social media on the day of the murders, the actions of a single person justified the collective punishment of countless others, from a number of different countries, who had nothing at all to do with the Southport murders. Whatever the moronic, metaphorical Kneecapper's intended meaning, the words 'the only good Tory is a dead Tory' paint Conservatives as so irredeemably evil that they deserve the ultimate punishment, rather than people who could be won over by reasoned argument. A cultural tsunami I disagreed with the late, great Scotsman journalist Bill Jamieson on a number of issues, but he was always thoughtful, often entertaining and both interesting and interested in other people's ideas. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad In 2018, in an article bemoaning the politicisation of gender, sexuality and identity, he wondered why his 'self-identification as 'Bill' is not sufficient declaration of 'who I am'' and, jokingly, whether LGBT would eventually become 'LGBTTTQQIAA'. 'To draw a line against this is nothing to do with a rejection of male or female homosexuality, but resistance to a politicisation that is deeply divisive and corrosive of individual privacy,' he wrote. '... with the cultural tsunami now breaking around us, who will stand in the way of it? And in this rush to self-identification with public labels and initials, how may we be more certain, or less, of who we really are within?' This 'cultural tsunami' is not just about gender, with concepts of race and nationality – which are not real things but ideas invented by humans – seemingly becoming more important to many people's sense of themselves and of others. The importance of 'I' To me, an excessive focus on shared identity, as opposed to individual identity, is almost bound to lead humanity in a dangerous direction. In Sarah Bakewell's excellent book, How to Live: A Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer, she writes about how Leonard Woolf, husband of writer Virginia Woolf, was 'much affected' by the 16th-century French philosopher's essay, On Cruelty. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad After reading it, he remembered being asked as a young boy in the late 19th century to drown some day-old puppies. 'I put one of them in the bucket of water, and instantly an extraordinary, a terrible thing happened. This blind, amorphous thing began to fight desperately for its life... I suddenly saw that it was an individual, that like me it was an 'I', that in its bucket of water it was experiencing what I would experience and fighting death, as I would fight death if I were drowning...' Bakewell wrote that Woolf 'went on to apply the insight to politics, reflecting especially on his memory of the 1930s, when the world seemed about to sink into a barbarism that made no room for this small individual self... On a global scale, no single creature can be of much importance, he wrote, yet in another way these 'I's are the only things of importance. And only a politics that recognises them can offer hope for the future.' Today's culture warriors, on the right and the left, appear to be marching to a similar beat to those 1930s fascists. Their chosen collective identity is something sacred to them and anyone who criticises it or appears to be in opposition to it is considered an enemy.
Telegraph
6 days ago
- Business
- Telegraph
Morris Motors boss may have inspired Tolkien villain
The fascist-sympathising founder of Morris Motors was demonised as a soulless industrialist in an unknown story by JRR Tolkien that is to be published for the first time. William Morris, Viscount Nuffield, is thought to have inspired the Lord of the Rings author to create a villain for a satirical fantasy in which he vented his loathing for the motor car and its devastating impact on his beloved Oxford. Morris made his fortune by mass-producing small cars at affordable prices and, although he donated millions to worthy causes, he also supported Oswald Mosley's British Union of Fascists. Morris Motors became the major employer in the region during Tolkien's lifetime, providing a pull for workers and businesses supporting the car industry. A dramatic rise in Oxford's population between the wars was driven partly by the growth of the industry. The businessman is thought to be the inspiration for a character known as the Daemon of Vaccipratum in the never before published story, The Bovadium Fragments. It is thought Tolkien also took inspiration from a planning controversy that erupted in the 1940s, when he was the University of Oxford's Professor of English Language and Literature at Merton College. A bid to alleviate traffic by building a dual carriageway across Christ Church Meadow, an ancient open space in the heart of Oxford, sparked a protracted public debate well into the 1960s, when the plan was eventually aborted. The Bovadium Fragments reflects Tolkien's mastery of Latin. Bovadium was the Latinised name for the village of Oxford, and the Daemon of Vaccipratum translates as 'the demon of the cow pasture', or Cowley – where Morris had established his motor manufacturing plant. In one passage of the unearthed story, Tolkien writes: 'But it came to pass that a Daemon (as popular opinion supposed) in his secret workshops devised certain abominable machines, to which he gave the name Motores.' The Bovadium Fragments was among Tolkien manuscripts either donated or deposited posthumously by his estate to Oxford's Bodleian Library. It will be published in October by Harper Collins. Chris Smith, the Harper Collins publishing director, described it as 'a sharply satirical account of the perils of allowing car production and machine-worship to take over your town, where things ultimately all go to hell, in a very literal sense'. Tolkien's son and literary executor, Christopher, had edited the text before his death in 2020. The book will include an essay by Richard Ovenden, Bodley's librarian, who has conducted extensive research into the planning controversy, having established its inspiration for Tolkien's story. Mr Ovenden said it is about a scholar in the future looking at evidence of a society that is now lost, having 'worshipped the motor car', adding: 'Tolkien was deeply affected by the way that the motor industry was changing his city, and that shines through.' Asked why The Bovadium Fragments had not been published before, Mr Ovenden said: 'Christopher's priority in publishing his father's unpublished works was on the Middle Earth-related material. This material didn't really fit with that or with his father's more scholarly pieces, and so it got left. 'I would visit Christopher and his wife Baillie in France every year. On one of those visits, he drew this to my attention and said, 'What's all this about, what do you think the background of this was?'' Mr Ovenden described it as 'a contribution to environmental literature and the conservation of historic cities'. 'It was written in the late 1950s and 1960s, but it has this extraordinary contemporary resonance,' he said.
Scotsman
27-05-2025
- Politics
- Scotsman
Why today's culture warriors are marching to same beat as 1930s fascists
Sign up to our daily newsletter – Regular news stories and round-ups from around Scotland direct to your inbox Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... I'm probably the world's worst Aberdeen FC fan. When I lived in the city for five years, I didn't go to see them once and have been to perhaps half a dozen games in my lifetime, an average of one for every decade. When I belatedly remembered it was the Scottish Cup final on Saturday afternoon, I checked to see the score and watched the last 10 minutes of normal time. I was mildly pleased that the Dons won in the end. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad However the thing that struck me most was something I didn't quite like: the 'togetherness' of the crowd, the sea of red in the Aberdeen end and of green and white in the Celtic one. It felt like they were surrendering their individuality a little too enthusiastically. Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Union of Fascists, inspects a parade of supporters before calling off a march through London's East End in 1936 (Picture: Becker/Fox Photos) | Getty Images A loss of confidence Now, I realise that social togetherness is often a good thing, but there's a nasty side to it too. And in politics and society in general, it feels like 'identitarian' ideas are on the rise, as if people have lost confidence in themselves as individuals and increasingly see life through a clannish, tribal lens. There's safety in numbers, or so they say. It can be seen in an appalling remark by a member of Northern Irish rap band Kneecap at a 2023 gig – 'The only good Tory is a dead Tory. Kill your local MP' – and in the social media call by Lucy Connolly, a Conservative councillor's wife, for 'mass deportations' and for people to 'set fire' to 'all the hotels' containing those she wanted to deport, following the murders of three young girls in Southport last year. Connolly recently lost her appeal against a 31-month prison sentence for inciting racial hatred and police are currently considering the Kneecap rapper's comment. The band later offered their 'heartfelt apologies' to the families of murdered MPs David Ames and Jo Cox, saying they rejected 'any suggestion that we would seek to incite violence against any MP or individual' and that 'an extract of footage, deliberately taken out of all context, is now being exploited and weaponised, as if it were a call to action'. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Nothing to do with Southport murders However, in of themselves, the remarks strip members of a particular group – Conservatives or asylum seekers – of their right to be treated as an individual. In Connolly's mind, when she posted on social media on the day of the murders, the actions of a single person justified the collective punishment of countless others, from a number of different countries, who had nothing at all to do with the Southport murders. Whatever the moronic, metaphorical Kneecapper's intended meaning, the words 'the only good Tory is a dead Tory' paint Conservatives as so irredeemably evil that they deserve the ultimate punishment, rather than people who could be won over by reasoned argument. A cultural tsunami I disagreed with the late, great Scotsman journalist Bill Jamieson on a number of issues, but he was always thoughtful, often entertaining and both interesting and interested in other people's ideas. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad In 2018, in an article bemoaning the politicisation of gender, sexuality and identity, he wondered why his 'self-identification as 'Bill' is not sufficient declaration of 'who I am'' and, jokingly, whether LGBT would eventually become 'LGBTTTQQIAA'. 'To draw a line against this is nothing to do with a rejection of male or female homosexuality, but resistance to a politicisation that is deeply divisive and corrosive of individual privacy,' he wrote. '... with the cultural tsunami now breaking around us, who will stand in the way of it? And in this rush to self-identification with public labels and initials, how may we be more certain, or less, of who we really are within?' This 'cultural tsunami' is not just about gender, with concepts of race and nationality – which are not real things but ideas invented by humans – seemingly becoming more important to many people's sense of themselves and of others. The importance of 'I' To me, an excessive focus on shared identity, as opposed to individual identity, is almost bound to lead humanity in a dangerous direction. In Sarah Bakewell's excellent book, How to Live: A Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer, she writes about how Leonard Woolf, husband of writer Virginia Woolf, was 'much affected' by the 16th-century French philosopher's essay, On Cruelty. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad After reading it, he remembered being asked as a young boy in the late 19th century to drown some day-old puppies. 'I put one of them in the bucket of water, and instantly an extraordinary, a terrible thing happened. This blind, amorphous thing began to fight desperately for its life... I suddenly saw that it was an individual, that like me it was an 'I', that in its bucket of water it was experiencing what I would experience and fighting death, as I would fight death if I were drowning...' Bakewell wrote that Woolf 'went on to apply the insight to politics, reflecting especially on his memory of the 1930s, when the world seemed about to sink into a barbarism that made no room for this small individual self... On a global scale, no single creature can be of much importance, he wrote, yet in another way these 'I's are the only things of importance. And only a politics that recognises them can offer hope for the future.' Today's culture warriors, on the right and the left, appear to be marching to a similar beat to those 1930s fascists. Their chosen collective identity is something sacred to them and anyone who criticises it or appears to be in opposition to it is considered an enemy.
Yahoo
10-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
MP reflects on VE Day legacy and lessons for modern Stroud
Stroud MP Simon Opher's column The Legacy of VE Day THIS week marks the 80th anniversary of VE Day – the day when the Allied forces in Europe accepted the unconditional surrender of the German forces at the end of World War II. There are a number of events across the district to celebrate the day, an echo of the street celebrations that happened around Stroud that evening in 1945. We should all take a moment to think about what the UK achieved during the war. It was, by any measure, a remarkable military victory, pursued by our armies, but sustained by the sacrifice and hard work of people at home. It's good to remember that it was only possible because we worked closely with other countries around the world. It was a time when people came together to defeat a common threat. The war saw the back of Oswald Mosley and the British Union of Fascists. During the war, the country utterly rejected the politics of division and hatred that they had espoused through the 1930s, when they were cheered on by, notably, the Daily Mail, and others. It's been a long journey since 1945. Some things have changed for the good - the NHS, welfare state and education, for example, while others have come and gone: nationalisation, membership of the EU and our role as a country that could lead the world. While I believe that living standards are unquestionably better for most people today, it is also true that inequality is worse. The country has largely stagnated for the past 20 years, maybe longer. Sometimes it feels as if the reward we should be getting for our hard work - and people work very hard – simply disappears into thin air. People know that life could be better and are understandably searching for a change of direction: we know that we are somehow being short-changed. Ironically, as in the 1930s, there is a growing appeal in the easy answers. It's very easy to scapegoat certain groups in society, especially those who are 'different'. I believe that the answers lie in the approach we took in 1945: tackling inequality, raising living standards, investing in our future, improving housing and transport, celebrating what we have in common (and what makes us different), and looking outwards, and working with other countries, not against them. That, I think, is the legacy of VE Day, and what we achieved in WW2. Many of the events celebrating VE Day are listed by Stroud District Council, here:
