The Dresser OR Contemporaneity, lead Figure in a Docudrama

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2012.

I have to agree with Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, when he recently declared his his objections to our trying to 'photoshop out' the worst aspects of our cultural history; as bad or ugly as it may well have been sometimes, we need to be reminded of it if only to avoid making the same mistakes.

As for pulling down statues and editing out any media footage that might cause offence, we need to remember that they are products of their time. We cannot and should not deny history, but nor should we dress it up with what amounts to fake news once we start cherry-picking those aspects we prefer to emphasise because they put us in a kinder light.

Regarding some public statues, it is, I suspect, the inscriptions they bear more than the sculptures themselves that cause offence; honouring those, for example, whose financial contribution to society at the time was not least on the back of their being slave owners. Slavery was an abhorrent, inhuman practise, and we should never be allowed to forget that. While I support the Black Lives Matter movement, I would prefer to see the darker aspects of any cultural past confined to a museum rather than provocatively placed in a city centre or wherever and/ or inscriptions changed to reflect those elements of historical fact that dont deserve to be celebrated. At the same time, I have to say that it is a GOOD thing that inequality and prejudice have been given a public platform in the course of recent events; hopefully, we will see world and society leaders take appropriate action to tackle social injustices that have no place in a 21st century.

It has been my experience that certain social, religious, cultural and, yes, even sexual elements of human nature are inclined to conspire against us (supposedly for our own good) in order to establish themselves in this or that driving seat; not infrequently, they choose to ignore that, ultimately, there can only be one driver, who may may well choose to take an alternative route. 

Such is the nature of the human ego that it can be something of a control freak ... as and when it suits. Nor does anything bring this home perhaps than when browsing archives, not least those, relating to family history; reading and capturing the imagination like a docudrama portraying human nature at its best and worst, strongest and weakest, all-enduring despite (even because of) the very flaws that comprise it.

“The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.” - George Orwell 

“Study the past if you would define the future.” - Confucius

“The great force of history comes from the fact that we carry it within us, are unconsciously controlled by it in many ways, and history is literally present in all that we do.”
- James Baldwin,  The Price of the Ticket: Collected Nonfiction 11948-1985

This poem is a kenning.

THE DRESSER or CONTEMPORANEITY, LEAD FIGURE IN A DOCUDRAMA

I come in peace, a force for good

yet am often abused, used to make war

on lesser forces unable to resist

the strength of my will giving ambition

and determination their way;

for good or ill, time will have its say

and those, too, who endure

the wait to see if they can (ever)

put their trust in me 

I bring hope where weaker forces

sure to fail, yet can be misunderstood,

seen as an enemy, threatening

to take control for my own purposes,

harbouring a secret agenda,

a measured tissue of lies and half lies

an impenetrable camouflage

for self-interest convincingly ticking

all the right boxes 

I offer stability where foundations

of enterprise are in danger of collapse

along with all invested interests;

yet, I am easily distracted in playing

the hero, even persuaded

by my own convictions that any potential

for universal gain has to be better

than settling for less on the grounds

it bring happiness 

Personal Assistant to that chameleon, Power,

I am charged with dressing history with flair 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Lead Player in a Docudrama' in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Olympic Games OR Old Gods, New Gods, and the Rest of Us

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

[Update (July 21, 2016): Congratulations to Team GB and everyone taking part in the Rio Olympics. As for those nasty people who targeted Tom Daley for homophobic abuse, I can only echo J. K. Rowling; I am not sure which is more offensive, the stupidity or the spite. Some religious groups especially need to get real; their founders would be appalled. I do not subscribe to any religion, not least because I find it too divisive and closed-minded where religion should be the very opposite, acknowledging that our differences neither put us in the wrong nor make us different, simply human. Moreover, I came to this conclusion before I realised I am gay. One of my You Tube videos makes the same point: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrTjc2373IU  Needless to say, I received a number of offensive emails after posting it.]

Now, leaders of every society like to play games with its citizens and today’s poem was written in 2000; it has nothing (directly) to do with the Olympic Games. Even so, here’s wishing good luck to everyone participating in the Rio Olympics and upholding humankind’s finer qualities of fair competition and mutual respect among winners and losers alike. To win a medal is, of course, a wonderful achievement, but as wonderful if not more so is the thrill of taking part, an incomparable memory to share and treasure over a lifetime.

If the poem invokes a sense of society falling into moral and political well as economic decay, hopefully the feeling rarely lasts; it only takes events that embrace the human spirit of the Olympic Games to raise our hopes once more and make us realise there is (far) more to life than any judgmental take on it will ever suggest.

Even so, let's not forget how Greek mythology would have us believe the old gods got up to all sorts of mischief on Olympus; all work and no play…

Mount Olympus, Greece

OLYMPIC GAMES or OLD GODS, NEW GODS, AND THE REST OF US

What will be, will be,

in this century as others gone before;

wealth and poverty, a sick lottery

of love and hate, peace and war invariably

played out by tin gods with humankind

and everything to play for, bearing in mind

(of course) that who dares wins,

no matter what their sins, and losers

will always cast the first stones

before they will admit being taken in

by substitute icons

Olympus, alive and well on Capitol Hill,

humanity, in free fall…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2016

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised and an alternative title added (2016) since it first appeared in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; rev. ed. in –format in preparation.]