So much has been said and written about 2016 that there are probably few, if any, stones left to turn. The level of attrition among well-loved and iconic celebrities seems to have been unprecedented; the shifts in the political landscape certainly caught out the commentators and experts – pollsters included; indeed pollsters in particular. If I’m left with any overriding impression, it’s of a year where seminal, potentially life-changing events seemed to have moved beyond the control of anyone and assumed a momentum all of their own.
Turmoil: it’s not exactly a new phenomenon but it does make me grateful for the cathartic effects of walking among the hills, getting some separation, if only temporarily, from what passes for reality. This year, those have been the best of times; and that’s probably true in most years.
The worst of times? If I had to single out just one, it was the senseless, incomprehensible killing of Jo Cox.
On a personal level, I shall forever miss Leonard Cohen; there won’t be another to fill that particular void, not in my lifetime. Since his passing, I’ve listened to a number of discussions about which was the best cover of Hallelujah – Rufus Wanwright? John Cale? Jeff Buckley? The list, like the debate, goes on…
There’s a custom in football of, in exceptional circumstances, ‘retiring’ a shirt number worn with distinction by an outstanding player: Cruyff, Baresi, Zola, Henrik Larsson as just a few examples. Similarly, every now and again somebody just makes a song their own, for posterity…
Jo Cox : 1974-2016
A happy 2017 to all: perhaps we will get to live in uninteresting times for a while.
There’s a lot of it about: certain politicians (and by certain, I mean most); smartarse television and radio presenters masquerading as investigative journalists; tabloid hacks masquerading as human beings; lobbyists, publicists, advertisers and PR flannel merchants; football people.
It would be easy to level some of the blame at Twitter, with its 140 character limit, but this all started long before the age of the tweet. Reductio ad absurdum – that’s nearly what I’m talking about; not quite, but I don’t know much latin. It’s more this modern day partiality for reducing even the most complex and nuanced of issues to a single, over-simplified, one line conclusion.
A few days ago – in the middle of a relatively low-key conversation about turbines – someone suggested to me that it was a “well known fact” that all environmentalists are in favour of wind farms. There was genuine surprise when I responded that I consider myself to be very much an environmentalist and that there are more definitions of caring for the environment than those promoted by the high-profile NGOs and their political allies. I pointed the chap in question in the direction of some of the outdoor blogs, with the assurance that he wouldn’t find a bunch of people anywhere who cared more about the environment. I know that he took me at my word, read a good few of them, had his eyes opened and will continue to read more.
But it’s apparently easy to sell a lie; and the more glib the deception the easier the sale seems to be. Terms like ‘The environmental lobby’ are bandied around, go unchallenged, and become part of the currency; it’s convenient, precludes the need for analytical thought, and suits a particular agenda.
The alternative – acknowledging that there’s no such thing as a single, homogenised, collective representing the complete spectrum of environmental opinion and thinking – well, that’s a lot like hard work and very difficult to condense into a soundbite. It’s disturbingly easy for those with access to the right channels to marginalise others who refuse to be compliant; disturbingly easy to bypass or subvert proper democratic and consultation processes. No need to win a debate if you can arrange for it never to take place.
Quite where I’ve gone with this I’m not sure; even less sure about where to take it next. Introducing new people to the outdoor blogging community is a small start, and an enjoyable one. It will have to do until I can think of something better.