Saturday, November 02, 2024
Friday, November 01, 2024
Rings of Power 2:5
On going lamentations continue on my Patreon Page. Drop a pound or so in the box and you can read it, and make me feel that someone out there case.
Thursday, October 24, 2024
Here Comes The Flood
Have you seen that old clip of David Frost interviewing Oswald Mosley?
Frost plays a clip of one of Mosley's speeches. There are really only two possibilities, he says. Either you were deliberately trying to emulate Hitler. Or you were impersonating Charlie Chaplain in the Great Dictator.
The Conservative Party is in the process of choosing a new leader. That leader will automatically become the Leader of His Majesty's Loyal Opposition, and will presumably be Kier Starmer's opponent at the next General Election.
A decade ago, faced with a similar situation, the Labour Party gave its members the choice between a half-way plausible leader (I honestly can't remember his or her name) and an obviously unelectable one. The party members, including my good self, selected the second option. Overwhelmingly. Twice.
The Tories are obviously not going to repeat this mistake. Instead, they have offered their members a straight choice between two obviously unelectable candidates. There's the one who wants to fight culture war battles against trans people and equal opportunity acts and the one who would only have people in his cabinet who want to withdraw from the European convention on human rights. I do concede that framing "culture wars" as a "left wing dog-whistle" implies a kind of Joycean genius for word play.
It will be aesthetically displeasing to have to listen to one or other of these people talking this kind of rubbish at Prime Minister's question time every week. But it makes no difference. It doesn't matter who becomes Leader of the Opposition. Not even a little bit.
And it doesn't matter if Kier Starmer has been a little bit naughty about who pays his tailor's bills; although, since the whole point of Starmer was that he was bright and sensible, it is a little disappointing that he has done something quite so dumb and quite so stupid quite so quickly. We used to slag off Rev'd Tony for his obsession with spin, but you would think that these people paid people to tell them when they were about to do something that is going to look terrible in the papers.
Of course, it's up to you Prime Minister. I'm sure you know what you're doing. A very courageous move.
British electoral cycles and American electoral cycles are out of sync. Ms Badenoch and/or Mr Jerrick are going to get one shot at becoming PM, and that won't come much before June 2029. By which time either Kamala Harris or JD Vance will be beginning their second terms in the White House.
Or else something weirder and scarier will have happened in the Land of the Free. The repeal of the Twenty Second Amendment. A third Trump term. A Democrat victory overturned by a bigger and more decisive January 6th coup d'etat.
And this blog believes in balance. There is another possibility. If Mr Trump and Mr Vance do not win the election, and do not succeed in overturning the result by legal jiggery pokery or mob violence, then by June 2026, Kamala Harris will have established a Marxist dictatorship and ended free elections in America.
That's certainly the opinion of the official Republican nominee; and it's also the opinion of the richest and cleverest man in the world. And they wouldn't say so if they didn't truthfully believe it.
When Jeremy Corbyn suggested that internet access might become free his own party literally accused him of being a Trotskyite.
When Kier Starmer recently moved a painting to a different wall in Downing Street, newspaper columnists literally accused him of being a Stalinist.
But try drawing any kind of parallel between anything that Mr Trump and Mr Musk say and things that that funny little German with the moustache used to say, and see what happens....
"Oh, you liberals, any one who disagrees with you even a little bit is automatically a Fascist!"
"Oh, well, the word Fascist can mean anything you want it to mean and doesn't mean anything at all."
"I shall tell you who the real fascists are -- the ones saying that white people are just the same as black people and that some people are trans and that it's OK to be gay. And the ones who put a black elf into Lord of the Rings!"
"Why oh why oh why can't liberals carry out an argument without resorting to insults?"
I always thought that the Nemesis the Warlock comic-strip in 2000AD took a wrong step when it turned out that nasty inquisitor Torquemada didn't really hate aliens at all: he just thought that giving his human subjects someone to hate was good for business. The legendary Clan of the Fiery Cross Superman story ended on a similar revelation. The chief wizard of the clan didn't believe in any of his white supremacist bullshit. He'd invented the cult because he had a warehouse full of bedsheets he needed to sell.
And how comforting it would be if that were true. There are no Nazis. There are no Fascists. And, in the interests of balance, there are no Liberals and no Communists. There are only gullible people who have been hoodwinked into believing an obvious lie; and cynical liars hoodwinking the gullible for their own ends.
I don't believe it. I think it is highly probable that Mr Hitler really did have an issue with Jewish people. I think it highly probable that Tommy (who's-real-name-is-Yaxby-Lennon) Robinson really does dislike immigrants and dark skinned people and people who say "Allah" rather than "God". But I think it is very likely indeed that many of the people currently serving time for inciting or participating last summer's attempted pogrom had no strong feelings about immigrants or Muslims one way or the other. They were just caught up in the moment.
Which is why we should have as few of those moments as possible.
I am perfectly sure that everyone who heard Yoko Ono speak at Glastonbury in 2014 believed in that moment that if we hugged our neighbours and imagined that all the grapefruits were made of clouds then war and fracking would end there and then. I am equally sure that everyone at Billy Bragg's Bristol gig earlier this year truthfully believed, in that moment, that the sense of empathy between singer and audience could spread out and defeat the forces of cynicism (which is the real enemy).
In the cold light of day, we might have decided that it was all a bit over done and not entirely realistic. But we were carried along in the moment because we really do believe that love and imagination and solidarity are good things. I have said that I always come out of one of Martyn Joseph's concerts honestly wanting to be a better person.
It is not fair to think that everyone who goes to right-wing rallies is evil any more than everyone who attends a revivalist meeting is a saint. Not everyone in the audience necessarily believes that everything in a Trump speech is the gospel truth, any more than everyone in the mega-church necessarily believes that everything in the Gospel is the gospel truth. But it is fair to assume that they are going for some reason. It is fair to assume that they are getting something out of it. It is fair to assume that repeated exposure to that kind of thing has some kind of affect.
It would be very hard to argue that Mr Trump is not an authoritarian -- let's avoid the F-word. It seems very hard to argue that Mr Trump is not an extreme nativist, even a white supremacist. Let's avoid the R-word.
I would personally find it very hard to argue that Kamala Harris was a Marxist. She seems to me to be rather to the right of most British politicians. But I'm not the richest and cleverest man in the world. I'm not even in the top three.
What would British politics look like after four and a bit years of Authoritarian Nativist rule in America? Or, to remain completely unbiassed, in the equally believable and plausible circumstance that US democracy had come to an end and the Hammer and Sickle was flying in the Oval Office?
Some British politicians would undoubtedly say that a jolly good shot of Nativist Authoritarianism up the backside is precisely what Britain needs to put a stop to all those National Trust scones and unisex lavatories.
Some British politicians would certainly say that if the leader of our strongest and traditionalist ally has decided to deploy the armed forces against his political opponents, or to intern or expel religious and racial minorities, then it is our job as a friend to back them up.
Some British politicians would even say that opposing coup d'etats is the self-indulgence of the metropolitan hipster.
And I am very much afraid that some British politicians might say that opposing Authoritarian Nativism is on a level with demanding a unicorn on every street corner. Very nice and fluffy of course, but not the sort of thing that serious grown-ups talk about. Serious grown-ups understand that if you are really against Authoritarian Nativism, then the serious grown-up thing to do is to stop going on and on about it, sit down to dinner with Authoritarian Nativists and maybe be just a little bit more Authoritarian and Nativist yourself.
Life isn't like Love Actually. Tough choices. I for one welcome our new insect overlords.
But it's a safe bet that after four years of American fascism (or, to be completely unbiassed, American communism) winter fuel payments and sewage in Lake Windermere will be the least of our worries.
Whatever happens, on November 6th we will be in uncharted territory. I propose to continue eating and drinking, marrying and being given in marriage, reading comic books and singing sea shanties, until the day that Trump enters into the White House.
At this stage there doesn't seem a great deal that anyone can do about it.
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Sunday, September 29, 2024
The Mystic
Thursday, September 26, 2024
The Armageddon Factor (X)
In 1972, Malcolm Hulke and Terrance Dicks co-authored a book called The Making of Doctor Who.
Doctor Who was just barely old enough to have a history (a whole nine years) and the book mythologised that history. It told us about the creation of Doctor Who; described the filming of a typical story; provided a pseudo-scientific explanation of the TARDIS’s dimensions and even included a religious essay by a vicar.
The core of the book was a summary of the Doctor’s adventures, in the form of in-universe texts. There were Time Lord's legal documents relating to the Doctor's trial and exile; and memos from the Brigadier to Geneva about his new scientific adviser. The actual stories aren’t referred to by name; although there is a chart listing them by production code. Geeky Doctor Who fans could have endless fun cross-referencing the summaries in Making of Doctor Who with the synopses in the Radio Time Tenth Anniversary Special. Because that was all there was.
The Time Lord legal documents refer to the Accused as "∂³ Σ x²". The editorial material says that this is the Doctor's “real name”: a mathematical formula.
Dicks and Hulke were closely involved in the creation of Doctor Who lore-- they were the ones who came up with the idea of Time Lords, probably the most important pillar of the mythos after the TARDIS itself. This doesn't make their every breath canonical. But it is striking that the book gives the Brigadier’s first name as “Alistair”, something not mentioned on screen until Planet of the Spiders.
In 1980, Marvel Comics reprinted the comic strips from Doctor Who Weekly in an American format. Editor Mary-Jo Duffy wrote a text feature bringing readers up to speed on who the Doctor was. Her essay states, parenthetically, that the Doctor's “real name” is ∂³Î£x², as if that was a generally established fact. This strongly suggests that the Making of Doctor Who was in use as a “series bible”—or just possibly, that there was a separate internal document that the book drew on.
The point of calling the Doctor “∂³Î£x²” is that his name is unpronounceable to humans. If one read the formula off the page it would be something like “derivative cubed sigma ex squared"; but presumably the signs have a Galifreyan meaning distinct from human algebra. In the Three Doctors (also written by Bob Baker and Dave Martin) one of the Founding Fathers of the Time Lords is referred to by the single Greek letter Omega. In other stories, Time Lords have titles like the Doctor (the Master, the Monk, the Valeyard) or what appear to be straightforward forenames (Borusa, Morbius, Romanadvoratrelundar.)
Now, in Armageddon Factor, the Doctor encounters Drax, a Time Lord (or at any rate Gallifreyan) technician who he knew as a student. We aren’t specifically told that they attended the Time Lord Academy: simply that they were on a “tech course” together. [1] Very interestingly, Drax refers to the Doctor by name. And the name he gives him consists of two Greek letters: Theta Sigma. The Doctor asks him to call him Doctor, but he persists in saying “Theet".
If Bob Baker and Dave Martin, like Mary-Jo Duffy, were working from the Making of Doctor Who they might have assumed that the ∂ was a Greek letter and wrongly guessed that it was a “theta”. Or they might have made up the Theta part. (There's a cursive form of theta which looks a lot like the partial derivative sign: so someone who had studied Greek but didn't use it much might mistake one for the other.)[2] There is no particular reason why "Θ Σ" couldn't be an ironic contraction of "∂³Î£x²": in the same way that Peggy is short for Margaret and Jack is short for John. In the Happiness Patrol, the Seventh Doctor states unequivocally that Theta Sigma was a college nick-name.
This seems to be an example of canon-drift. A fact, detached from its original narrative context has become something which “everybody knows”. The whole point of Hulke and Dicks coinage of “derivative cubed sigma ex squared” was that it was a miraculous name; a name which underlined the pure alienness of the Time Lords. If the letters simply translated into sounds, then the Doctor might as well have been called “Deesexxx”. The idea of a Time Lord who presents as a South London Car Mechanic; and who trivially calls the Doctor “Theet” removes the very sense of otherness that the name was supposed to suggest.
A contemporary letter-writer to the DWAS fanzine TARDIS said that revealing that the Doctor is called “Theeta Sigma” had exploded the last vestige of mystery from the character. Which is partly true: although the taboo of speaking the Doctor's name has largely been imagined by fans; and is rarely a plot point in the actual story. [3]
Objectively, it is hard to see how knowing that the Doctor is called Theeta Signma spoils Doctor Who. Ribos Operation wasn’t ruined because we know that beyond the control room, the TARDIS is made of bricks and mortar. Face of Evil is not spoiled because the Time Lords turned out not to be quite as mysterious and omnipotent as we once thought. Destiny of the Daleks and Creature from the Pit would be the same stories if the Doctor's name had remained an ultimate mystery.
But this stuff does tell us something about the tone of the series and the style that Read and Williams and Adams are bringing to the show. To say “irreverence” implies that Doctor Who has a quality of holiness which deserves respect, which is obviously absurd. (This was very slightly before Life of Brian.) But it is quite true that the show has become more and more playful. Nothing is off limits; the present scene and the current one-liner are all that count, continuity and world-building be damned. The idea that the Doctor had a silly nick name at college--and that he is annoyed and embarrassed when an old mate uses it--is fun in the moment. But if you see it as making an irrevocable addition to the backstory, it's at best pointless and at worst destructive.
The Doctor is not David Copperfield. He’s not even Conan the Barbarian. The Hyperborean Legion invented facts about Conan the Barbarian that surprised Robert E Howard: but pretending that Conan was an historical character about whom facts could be invented was very much in tune with the game Bob was playing. Doctor Who--the Doctor Who of seasons fifteen, sixteen and seventeen--is a quite different beast.
The incumbent producer and the incoming script editor have laid their cards on the table. This is not your grandfather's Doctor Who.
Fans rejected the approach: Season 17 was universally despised. In 1983 an essay in the programme for the infamous Longleat twentieth anniversary celebration (author: Levine, I) stated, unequivocally, that Graham Williams’ approach was bad-wrong and that John Nathan-Turner fixed everything in the early 80s.
What will Doctor Who be like from now on? The Key to Time asks the question. Season 17 answers it. Minotaur in y-fronts; Time Lords fellating alien tentacles; cameos by comedians and heroes who howl “my arms! my legs! my everything" when they are injured.
Is this the moment when Doctor Who truly became itself? Or the day the series died?
[1] This was 450 years ago. The birthday scene in Stones of Blood would have established the Doctor’s age as 751; making the Doctor 300 years old when he was a student; which is fairly consistent with the Doctor’s apparent age of around 45. In Power of Kroll he gives his age as “nearly 760”.
[2] Thanks to Patreons KD & DG for this scholarly observation!
[3] Ian Chesterton asks “doctor who?” in the second episode; a soldier asks the same question in the Highlanders; and famously the Post Office Tower computer thinks Doctor Who is his actual name; but I don’t think the words are spoken again until Tegan blurts “doctor whoever you are” in Baker’s final story.
Available to Patreons -- The Androids of Tara
Available to Patreons -- The Power of Kroll
Available to Patreons -- The Armageddon Factor
Or read my compleat Key To Time essays in PDF booklet.
Wednesday, September 25, 2024
The Armageddon Factor (IX)
7 Feb 1979
“Then Mentalis will go into it’s Armageddon sequence, and we’ll be bits of dust flying round the cosmos.”
Ribos Operation, Pirate Planet and Androids of Tara are, in their different ways, excellent Who stories. Power of Kroll and Stones of Blood are pretty poor, but with redeeming features. Armageddon Factor is outright bad.
The first episode contains a tolerably interesting set-up. Two planets are engaged in an endless war. A pacifist Princess and her boy-friend are secretly making contact with the peace movement on the other side. There are odd flares of inventiveness: the story opens with a painfully romantic scene which turns out to be a war-time propaganda movie; while hopelessly biassed news-broadcasts play in the background. John Woodvine is good value as the warmongering Marshall, but his attempts to evoke Winston Churchill in his speeches tip into parody. His bumbling henchmen Merek is pure panto. After the embarrassment of Power of Kroll the special effects are rather decent. The visual effects team know how to do model spaceships. Star Wars is now firmly lodged in the Zeitgeist; the shots of the Marshall and Merek in the cockpit of their flagship evoke the Millennium Falcon a bit too specifically; and it's compulsory for cameras to pan the underside of big spaceships.
If I were going to attempt what Other Bloggers call “a redemptive reading", I would say that the failure of Armageddon Factor is the point of the story. Power of Kroll followed the Doctor Who template just about as closely as anything possibly could. The opening episode of Armageddon Factor suggests that Bob Baker and Dave Martin are going to do the same kind of thing: a generic Doctor Who space opera with an anti-Cold-War message. (This was before the series became political.)
It is the presence of the Key to Time which disrupts this perfectly good idea: which causes the action to stop dead for two episodes. What might have been a story about the Doctor brokering peace between two warring factions becomes a quarrel about the last plot coupon; with a strong female character reduced the status of playing piece and finally an interestingly shaped crystal.
The Key, simply by existing marks the end of Doctor Who; the end, in fact, of all stories. That’s what the Guardian said at the beginning, after all. If the Doctor refuses the quest, nothing will ever happen to him again. An over-arching plot device means the end of all plots. So this final story has to fail: it has to show us what Doctor Who would be like if the Quest succeeded. The Doctor’s rejection of the Key resets the format; returns us to the premise of a wandering free-agent Doctor.
There is a third factor in play in the war between Atrios and Zeos: a planet of evil on which a villainous villain called The Shadow villainously lives. He answers directly to the Black Guardian and is trying to get to the Sixth Key before the Doctor does. He mind-controls the Marshall from behind a mirror.
The Shadow has no motivation whatsoever: he is just evil. He has no back story or history and is not even very interesting to look at.
Couldn't we at least have said he was the Master? The Master working for the Black Guardian while the Doctor worked for the White one would have had a certain obvious panache.
The Shadow can't finish a single sentence without engaging in evil laughter. When the Black Guardian turns out to be Valentine Dyall, there is a serious danger of an Evil Laughter arms race breaking out. (This was before the television version of the Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy, but after the LP version: it's complicated.) [*] The idea that an Evil Force and a Mad Computer are keeping two sides at war unnecessarily doesn't really say a great deal about the nuclear arms race, or indeed about anything else.
I won't say that Lalla Ward looks anything like Carrie Fisher or even that her hairstyle looks like Princess Leia's; and the Shadow certainly looks nothing like Darth Vader. But when a princess-shaped McGuffin is menaced by a card-carrying Dark Lord, you can’t help picking up a certain post-Star-Wars energy. Like Leia, Astra is simultaneously a self-assured independent woman and a damsel in distress. I’m not sure how great a feminist statement that is.
The Doctor is able to infer the shape of the final segment of the Key from the other five, which feels a bit like solving a Rubik Cube by steaming the stickers off. (This was before Rubik Cubes.) Is the physical shape of the Key what gives it it’s power? Bob and Dave extrapolated this development from the previous five stories: it’s not implicit in Graham Williams cosmological brain-fart. The Doctor is able to use the five-and-a-bit segments to literally stop the story; to entrap the only interesting character in a time loop for the whole of episodes four, five and six, while he flits between the two planets, interacting with a mad computer, a temporarily mad K-9 and a maddeningly unfunny cockney Time Lord. At the beginning of Episode Six he gets shrunk really small; from which nothing interesting follows.
The evil Shadow's evil planet of evil resembles nothing so much as a room in the Clacton seaside haunted house. The Doctor and Romana are ferried between Zeos and Atrios by trans-mat, without the remotest sense that the two planets are different. We might as well be running down corridors on different sides of a large office block.
Many bad stories have been redeemed by a cast who are having fun; but Tom Baker seems to phone in his performance; his Thespian wit reduced to a sustained, disengaged sulk. It might be that the Doctor resents the fact that the White Guardian still controls him. It might be that Tom Baker resents the fact that he's been denied his talking cabbage. It might simply be that Tom Baker is a very good actor, and five years is too long to be stuck in a single role. But no-one seems to be putting in the slightest effort.
It is the presence of the Key—the McGuffin which everyone is looking for—which kills the story. The presence of the Shadow —the villain who is just there to be villainous—invades the centre of the Zeos/Atrios plot and stops it developing. The Doctor's partial control over the Key ensures that for three episodes, nothing happens. When Drax the Time Lord garage mechanic crops up, we feel a bit like the Samuel Beckett's tramps when two additional characters arrive in Waiting For Godot: “Reinforcements! Now we're sure to see the episode through.” Drax has a funny accent, but a funny accent is not sufficient to redeem two whole episodes of narrative impasse.
There could have been a plot: there was supposed to have been a plot.
It turns out that Princess Astra herself is the Sixth Segment: in order for the Doctor to complete the quest, a human being has to be imprisoned in a glass cube for eternity. She herself is more or less okay with the idea this because it is her Destiny.
Now, this should have created some tension and jeopardy: a bona fide moral dilemma. To save the universe, the Doctor must effectively kill Princess Astra. Has he that right? This was the sort of dilemma which Douglas Adams had in mind in his original brain-storm document.
But nothing really comes of it: it’s simply the clue which allows the Doctor to spot that the White Guardian must really be the Black Guardian because the White Guardian couldn’t be quite that callous about a human life.
So was the Quest was impossible from the beginning--could it only be completed by the sacrifice of an innocent life, something the Doctor would never, ever permit? Has the Black Guardian been terribly clever, hiding one of the keys in a form that was morally inaccessible to the forces of goodness?
Imagine a more interesting ending to The Armageddon Factor. Imagine something truly apocalyptic. The Black Guardian is winning. The Universe is degenerating into chaos. Earth is about to be destroyed. Mary Tamm is going to be vaporised. And the Doctor can end it all and restore order. All he has to do is slay Lalla Ward.
WWTDD?
The Indian Epic Maharbarat, or at any rate the Peter Brook movie, ends with the hero Arjun reaching the gates to heaven. The Hindu equivalent of St Peter welcomes him, but says that Heaven has a strict “no dogs allowed” policy. Arjun refuses to enter heaven: he won’t accept enlightenment if even one creature remains in darkness. So, of course, he is allowed in: the dog was the final test.
In the great universe of counterfactuals, perhaps there is one in which the Doctor saves the universe by refusing to sacrifice Astra. Perhaps the Black Guardian’s entire scheme was to destroy the Doctor by making him transgress his own morality. I think that even faced with eternal chaos, the Doctor would have been one of those who walked away from omelas.
[*] Dyall played the medical student who lends Trevor Howard his apartment keys in Brief Encounter: I never knew that.
Available to Patreons -- The Androids of Tara
Available to Patreons -- The Power of Kroll
Available to Patreons -- The Armageddon Factor
Or read my compleat Key To Time essays in PDF booklet.