Jon Rogers

Some of the criticisms I have heard of the Occupy protesters have been utterly ridiculous. I’ll lay them out (and take them down a bit too) below the video, but you might like to see I’m not making them up – they are that obviously facile!

Number 1: “Protests are pointless, they achieve nothing”. Polly Toynbee’s response is spot on: protests work if their aim is raising the profile of the issues they are protesting – the conversation about the economy and the role of the bankers would be very different were it not for people in tents with hand made signs.

Two: “Go and get a job, that would help the economy more than protesting”. Some protesters clearly do have jobs, while others are part of the ‘forgotten generation’ of unemployed young people, saddled with debt from university and with no jobs to take. This is the generation who take un-paid interning jobs endlessly because there are no paid roles that actually use the education that they dedicated their entire lives so far to. Isn’t it right for them to stand up and say that this is not OK? How can you say to anyone in an economy like this “go and get a job” – it is the epitome of callousness and lack of heart.

Three: “Those kids with their designer clothes and iPhones…” I think this one irks me even more than the others. It comes from an oversimplification of the platform of the Occupy protesters – that they think capitalism as an entire system is fatally flawed. Perhaps some of them do, most certainly do not. They are consumers, they distinguish intelligently between what is good and right in the market economy and what is corrupt and corrupting – “it’s not about anti-capitalism, it’s about bad capitalism.” Insiders have the most right to blow the whistle and say that this is enough.

Who would have a right to critique contemporary society if not designer-clothed, technology-wielding young people? Only an Elijah-style prophet, living in the wilderness, kept separate from the taint of technology, or debt, or mass-manufactured clothing – a twenty-first century Gandhi. But even one of Gandhi’s aides, Sarojini Naidu, recognised that it took a lot of money to keep Gandhi poor. It is unthinkable to exist outside the bubble of capitalism in 2011 while remaining in contact with it and having a voice to criticise it. Get over the idea that it is wrong for the protesters to be identifiably part of the capitalist system.

It is not clear what the Occupy Together protests will achieve. It is even unclear how cohesive the movement will be, or how cogently their demands for change will be framed (though the London group have created a good summary of what they want). What is clear to me is that there is a desire for change and that this is in no way the same as the ‘rioting’ of this summer.

I made the mistake of confusing  Tim Ferriss with Timothy Ferriss, so I was surprised to be disappointed with an article on Wired, “Timothy Ferriss: The World of the Intellectual vs. The World of the Engineer”. I often read Tim’s blog, I’m fascinated by his approach to self-experimentation. So the over-simplification and scientism of the article surprised me.

The comments of other people on the article itself are interesting – both supporting and criticising Ferriss.

The title sets up the binary that Ferriss pursues through the article: intellectual bad, engineer good. Taking a rather unique definition of intellectual (“Being an intellectual had more to do with fashioning fresh ideas than with finding fresh facts.”) in order to contrast it with scientists and engineers who dealt only with hypotheses that they could check with lab tests. Ferriss goes on to intellectuals sought only to create ideologies that were based on imagined utopian dreams rather than any real experience and that they were all failures. He takes a slightly different route to the standard critique of modernity but ends at a similar place: modern ideologies are empty and we must leave them all behind. The have (without exception, apparently) only caused damage to humanity, while technology and science have exclusively benefited us.

There’s plenty to critique in his argument (which my summary has probably not perfectly represented – which, as you’ll see, will be deeply ironic!) Some commenters have been upset with people saying there are straw men to be found in the article. A straw man is a weak or misrepresented summary of someone else’s argument or work, which then makes your argument look strong. It’s an analogy from somehting like martial arts, where knocking down a straw man is easier than taking on a real opponent.

An example (one of many) is Ferriss’ treatment of Marx. “Karl Marx studiously ignored the improving living standards of working-class Londoners — he visited no factories and interviewed not a single worker — while writing Das Kapital, which declared it an “iron law” that the lot of the proletariat must be getting worse.” Now I’ve not studied Das Kapital, but to suggest that Marx was anti-fact and did not research seems a very unfair accusation. Imperial Russia allowed the publication of Das Kapital because it was not just ideology, but a ‘scientific’ work of political economics. Marx should be seen as one who straddled the binary of this article – mixing ideology and scientific technique, as many scientists do, especially those who are pioneering new fields. And Marx cannot be blamed (as Ferriss later suggests) for the failure of communism in the Soviet bloc – commenter Jon Munger says that’s like blaming Darwin for eugenics.

The article is even more flawed than just containing straw men. Ferriss’ style of argument and his shallow treatment of sources puts him firmly in the camp of idealogues (which he conflates with intellectuals), ironicaly arguing that this approach (the one he is practising) is fatally flawed.  He is constructing a new ideology, not based on verifiable hypotheses that can be falsified by experimentation, but constructed from a few opinions and comments of hearsay. Scientism (the ideology that science and technology provide unrelenting progress and benefit for humanity) has been in doubt for decades. The ultimate demonstration of the power of science to affect people are the nuclear, biological and chemical weapons of the early and middle part of the last century. Scientism is just as dangerous as any ideology in the hands of people who will do absolutely anything to defend or advance their way of life.

When we talk about the end of ideologies, the lack of resonance there is now with the big ideas of the 19th and 20th centuries, we need to be careful how we do it to avoid creating new (or re-stating old) ideologies that are just as flawed. We choose the direction we take our world in, science is just one tool (one particularly effective tool) to move us in that direction. Science is not morally superior to other approaches, nor is it the only tool we should use, as Ferriss proves. As a writer I am sure he knows that his rhetoric is not scientific. It is a tool, we must choose how we use all the tools available to us to do good, rather than harm.

[These are the notes prepared for the housegroups at Canley Community Church – the first in a series on the letters to the seven churches.]

 “We’ll be reading the book of Revelation for the next few weeks.”
That’s a scary thought for lots of Christians – not just because of the scary things that are written about in the book, but also because it’s so different from the other books in the New Testament, which makes it difficult to read and understand.

There seem to be two different types of response to reading Revelation. Some people seem to understand it all – “those people will be left behind, this means that person, here it’s talking about the government…” The rest just think that the whole book is impossible and just ignore it, going back to a nice story from the gospels, or a good meaty chunk of Romans.

My starting point when thinking about Revelation is that neither gets it quite right. If we understand the Bible to be a bit like a library with different types of books in it, what kind of book is it? The people who study these things call it ‘Apocalyptic writing’. It’s very different to the stories or biography of the gospels and Acts, or the pastoral and theological letters that make up the rest of the New Testament. It’s a style of writing that was popular with Jews in the first century, when the books of the New Testament were written, but one that you don’t find in contemporary Britain. It’s a type of writing that was supposed to be understood, but it was also meant to be a bit secret. It was supposed to be just a wild story to anyone who wasn’t an insider, especially the Romans. So for us to understand apocalyptic writing we need to do some decoding – and some of the codes might be so old that it’s tough to fully crack them.

Revelation is supposed to be tough to understand, it’s supposed to baffle, but it definitely has meaning that we can and should look for. But let’s not make the mistake of thinking that Revelation was written so that only you can understand it now, with the benefit of two thousand years of history. Revelation was written down for a specific audience in the late first century, an audience who were supposed to understand and be encouraged by the message in it.

Have you been scared of reading Revelation because you think you’ll never understand any of it? Have you heard people who seem to think they understand every word and verse of the book? What’s your response now – still scared, maybe you could try, still sure you’ve got it all sorted?

Read Revelation 1:1-20

Revelation starts with the vision of John as he’s in exile, under arrest, away from the churches he is a pastor to. John is old, he’s been captured, he’s not able to do the job he loves. As he prays, he is shown the most incredible vision that he’d never have seen if he wasn’t on Patmos.

John writes down what he saw in the vision and sends it as a letter to the churches in what is now Turkey – not far by today’s standards, but a very long way away for John.

Reflect

The whole of chapter 1 is shot through with worship, you can feel the reverence and love in the tone that John writes in as well as the description of how he sees Jesus.

Is that your response when you’ve got difficult times?

Read through the description of Jesus in v9-20. What images stand out to you? Why? Is this the kind of picture of Jesus that you have in your mind?

The description of Jesus uses lots of symbols and metaphors, each one full of meaning to the audience John is writing to. They build up together to be very ‘out of this world’ and strange – this is Jesus in glory, not just raised back to life, but ascended to the highest place in heaven.

Yet there’s something else about this Jesus. He’s personal. He names the seven churches one by one, and as we’ll see in the coming weeks, he has a specific message to each one. The messages are as strange and cryptic as this first chapter (and all the rest of the Revelation), but they all hint at things about the cities that have been confirmed by archaeology. Jesus knows the details of life in each city – not just the general kind of ‘this is what it’s like to be a human being’, but ‘I know what it’s like for you in your location and context’.

Sometimes these two aspects of Jesus character are put as an ‘either or’ – he’s either huge and ‘out there’ or in my heart and just about the little things. I think we need to take both – even if they are in tension and difficult to fit together neatly. Jesus is God of all creation, God of every galaxy and the furthest reaches of the Universe, but he’s also right here next to us, in our street, in our living room, no matter what it feels like.

Have you sometimes picked one or the other – a little Jesus just in my heart, or a huge Jesus who’s too far away for us to relate to? What might it mean to ‘hold both in tension’ in your life?

As we read the letters in the next two chapters, we find the descriptions of Jesus in this chapter echoed. Just a little bit from v9-20 is used to describe Jesus as he speaks to each church individually, a different bit for each one. That aspect of Jesus is just what the church needs to hear, to encourage or convict them.

What aspect of Jesus’ character do you need to see? How would Jesus introduce himself to Canley Community Church?

Respond: What’s our Prayer Focus?

As we go through this series on the first four chapters of Revelation, we want to encourage a response of prayer to what we’ve read and discussed. In your housegroup, briefly discuss what you think you should pray about based on Revelation 1. Here are some ideas as a starter for you – please come up with more ideas.

• Worship and celebration – just like John’s attitude throughout this chapter, perhaps you want to respond with prayerful worship of the great and mighty Jesus
• ‘I want to see you’ – maybe you, like John, are in a tough situation and just a glimpse of what Jesus is like would help you – like the song ‘Open the eyes of my heart, Lord, I want to see you. To see You high and lifted up, Shining in the light of Your glory. Pour out Your power and love, As we sing holy, holy, holy. ’

Guilt, Shame and Conviction

Guilt and shame are widely acknowledged to be negative, unhelpful emotions. Guilt is more inward-focussed – how bad I feel about that thing I did or didn’t do. Shame has a more outward direction, but is still internalised – how bad I feel about how they might feel about what I did or didn’t do. Guilt and shame are both very difficult to get rid of; they can stick around for years, whether you did something to try to atone for your mistake or not.

Chrisitians often contrast these two with conviction. Conviction is to be recognised by its short live appearance – it is a feeling that exists only while there is something that you need to do to remedy a bad situation. Although it might be confused with shame or guilt, once you do that thing, it will go.

Judging Others

Jesus said “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.” (Mt 7:1)

Christians have struggled with this instruction for a long time. Judging is so easy – and satisfying too. You get a little moment of superiority, a little ‘pharisee moment’. I suppose it’s one of those things that “I know I shouldn’t, but…” While thinking about the difference between guilt, shame, and conviction, I came to a new understanding of why we have been told not to judge, based on the effects of judging (not on exegesis of the passages in question).

When we judge someone, what are the possible responses that they might have?

1. They might ignore you. Fair enough, all kinds of people ignore us all the time, we’re used to it. Sadly, this is the best of the possible responses, though.
2. They might respond by judging you right back. “Who does he think he is to lecture me… What’s so great about her… Do they really think they’re so perfect…” This kind of response makes no difference to the behaviour that we’re judging them for, it only focusses their anger and hurt on us instead.
3. They might respond with guilt or shame.

Guilt and shame are not positive responses. Yes, they are natural, human responses to actions we regret, but not healthy ones. The healthy response is conviction, which I take to mean as the Spirit of God working in you to change or remove a problem in your life. But I am convinced that conviction never comes from human action, especially our judgmentalism.

Creating guilt or shame in someone else is a really bad outcome, yet it’s the strongest response we can hope for. The terrible personal consequences of a life gripped by shame or guilt should be reason enough to make me forswear the little hit of judging someone. More than this though, guilt and shame can each be a barrier to finding God – a dangerous thing! We should be very careful in doing anything that pushes people away from the gospel – this isn’t a case of the good news being hard to hear, it’s us being the barrier to belief.

Hooked on Judging

Yet knowing all this I still judge people! Judging is an automatic human response to someone not fitting our morals and knowing it does no good is not the same as not doing it. I think our worst possible response to this knowledge is guilt. Controlling this urge is going to take discipline – and perhaps conviction. At least we have the example of Jesus, who really did what he said on not judging, renown for accepting anyone, no matter their history. The example of the disciples is encouraging too, as they learn after Jesus is resurrected and ascended, slowly and gradually, that everyone is an insider to the gospel message.

I’m progressing well with the dissertation, over 15 thousand words written. Here’s a paragraph (with footnotes) that I enjoyed writing, and I hope throws a little light on what I think Rob Bell is trying to do.

Bell’s reference to Origen is especially interesting. Origen appears at times to have taught universalism, while at other times he seems to have tended more to particularism, where many but not all would be saved.^[1] As many of his writings were lost after he was condemned as a heretic,^[2] it is hard to be definite about what exactly Origen taught and how much of it was speculative questioning rather than firm belief. It has been suggested that Origen may have taught differently for different audiences, keeping the question of universal or exclusive salvation open, ‘for a greater effectiveness’ in evangelism.^[3] Protraying God as ‘good, kind and just’,^[4]  Origen is able to suggest a situation where ‘love conquers all.’^[5] Bell, from the same pastoral and apologetic heart also keeps open the question of whether all can be reconciled to God.

1. ^[1]Norris, ‘Apokatastasis’ in The Westminster Handbook to Origen, 59.↩
2. ^[2]Origen’s condemnation may not have been linked to his universalist teachings. See Norris, ‘Apokatastasis’, 60.↩
3. ^[3]Norris, ‘Apokatastasis’, 61-62.↩
4. ^[4]Lauro, ‘Universalism’ in The Westminster Handbook to Origen, 212.↩
5. ^[5]Norris, ‘Apokatastasis’, 61.↩

Read the previous ‘Metanarratives’ posts: 1, 2.

In my first post on metanarratives, I said that one of the defining features of postmodernity was the suspicion of metanarratives. What I never wrote about was why the postmodern is outright hostile to the giant stories. In a historical sense, it could be that postmodern philosophy was born from the disappointment of ex-communists with the student rebellion of the 60’s. But the more reasoned answer is because of the inherent violence in the application of a metanarrative.

Now the postmodern conversation uses violence in a slightly different sense to how we might common speech – it’s pretty much any time that someone is forced into something they would not freely choose, whether through actual injury, implicit force and threats or just the weight of a system pushing them into compliance. I’m sure I don’t need to explain how communism was violent in its desire for revolution. Freudianism tries to explain all human behaviour and thought in one single system, and in this reductionism does violence to the multiplicity of impulses and desires that we have. The metanarrative of romantic fulfilment that I wrote about before does violence to both parties as they use each other to ‘see if they’re the one’ and are then broken by the failure of the night. Without exception, metanarratives are seen as bringing violence as they try to eliminate ‘the other’ who is not part of the plan. It appears to be a side effect of their ‘totalizing’ nature, the fact that they claim to explain all human behaviour, everywhere in one simple rule.

And so to Christianity – the violence of Christianity is seen by many as its biggest failing – how can I be part of a religion that excludes women/gays/racial groups, that caused the crusades and the inquisitions, that inspired George W Bush? Just look at the Bible, it’s full of violence, even genocide at the call of God – not to mention the way hell is portrayed as the ultimate violence and exclusion of the other!

As a Christian, I can humbly confess that my faith has been used in horrifically violent ways, it deserves to be called out on every single one of those. Where repentance is required, it must happen and we must reject the violence of the ways the Christian story has been used. However, there are two points to be made about the Christian story and violence. Firstly, the Scriptures themselves challenge the use of Christianity (and Judaism for that matter) in a violent manner. Secondly, while the violence of the Cross is central to the uniquely Christian message, it is an inversion of violence, which must change how we view the bigger story. I’ll fill in some more details of what that means in another post.

While Android is based on a Linux kernel, lots of the best tools for syncing phones don’t run on the Linux desktop – for my Galaxy S II, Kies Air from Samsung is the default, won’t work. Winamp won’t work, DoubleTwist won’t work…

I want to be able to sync up my phone with my desktop without having to plug in. I want to sync photos and videos from the phone to the computer, and music from the desktop to the phone. I’ve done my research and come up with a method that’s smooth for photos but clunky for music – but it works, so I’ll share it in case anyone else wants to try it.

On the phone side, install PCFileSync. This free app isn’t pretty, but it does what it says – synchronise files with SMB shares (Windows file shares, but we can set them up easily on Linux). Some other apps only sync one way, which is no good to me.

Syncing the photos and videos is simple, so let’s do that first. On your computer, create a folder for the photos to go into – I made one in Pictures called Samsung. Right-click the folder, go to Sharing Options. You may have to set up file sharing before you can do this, but I was already set, so I gave it a name and allowed access to create and delete. That meant I had to change permissions – don’t be scared, anyone connecting will need a username and password already set up on your computer.

Back on your phone, run the app, hit Menu and go to settings. You want ‘Profiles Settings’ and long click to add an SMB profile. Fill in details like a name, then the folder to sync on the handset – /sdcard/DCIM. You’ll need the IP address of your computer – click the network icon and get it from ‘Connection Information’. Fill in a username and password and browse to the shared folder you just set up. Run the sync, you’re good to go.

Now Music is a bit more complex if you’re like me and have loads on the desktop and not enough room for it all on your phone. If you want all you music synced over it’s easy, just like the photos we did earlier.

I have a smart playlist in Banshee (though Rhythmbox does the same) called ‘For Sync’ which I used to sync when plugged in. It basically looks at a ‘not for sync’ playlist and selects everything else – you could also make a random one that selects some stuff to sync over from your whole library, or any other way of generating a playlist. I exported that playlist as an M3U file.

Here’s the complicated bit. In order to sync that playlist to the phone, we need to turn it into a folder structure. We won’t duplicate the files, but link to the original music.

Bring on the bash script! You can download the playlist-links.txt script, then rename it to playlist-links.sh and allow execution in file properties. The contents are at the bottom of the post if you want to check it out before downloading, but I’ll explain it now.

You run the file by typing (at the command line!)
./playlist-links.sh for-sync.m3u – it won’t run without being pointed to a playlist. I’ve not checked that the playlist is of the correct type, so do make sure it’s an m3u file.

The script by default assumes your music directory is in ~/ and that you want the new folders for syncing in ~/Public/ – you can easily change that by editing the script. It starts by asking if you want to clear out any folders and files (links) in the new location. I promise it won’t touch your precious collection, but you have backed up already?…

The script then reads through the file line by line, first making folders if it needs to, then making a (hard) link to the music file in its original location. I found that symlinks didn’t show up in the samba share, so hard links it is.

That’s all it does. Check the outputted file structure and back to the phone. Set up the share as before, this time syncing with wherever you want your music stored. I think it’s best to start from scratch, no music on the phone, in case it makes duplicate files (especially where special characters are involved – I’m looking at you, Ólafur Arnalds!) It takes a while to sync across, a bit longer than over USB, but once you’ve done it once it shouldn’t be bad to add a new album.

Hope that’s of some help. Unfortunately, you’ll need to export the playlist and re-run the script each time you change the music, then sync the phone again, but that might just be the price we pay for running Linux. enjoy!

Update: PC File Sync was corrupting the music that it was transferring, so I’ve tried with AndSMB and FolderSync Lite. FolderSync was the better one, but I’m still finding that it downloads files over and over. That uses a lot of battery and takes ages, so this setup isn’t perfect yet.

Using FolderSync means first setting up an ‘Account’, which means selecting a service – ‘Account type’ (you can choose only one with the lite version), so select ‘SMB/CIFS’, then fill in the IP address, login and password. I like the ‘validate login’ option – it lets you check that the details are correct.

Then you set up ‘Folderpairs’ – one on the phone, one on the server/PC. I think the setup is pretty straight forward and it gives lots of options about how often to sync.

Update 2: I’ve given up for now, I’ve gone back to a normal wired sync with Banshee. FolderSync doesn’t give corrupted files, but it does seem to download almost all the music every time. This takes too much time and battery, so I’ve given up. I continue to sync photos automatically in this way, though with Google+ already doing it for me, I’m not sure that it’s necessary.

#!/bin/bash
#PLAYLIST_FILE='/home/jon/forsync.m3u'
NewLoc="/home/$USERNAME/Public/" 	#Folder where the new Music folder will be created
OrigLoc="/home/$USERNAME/"		#Folder where the Music folder currently exists
#read location of saved playlist from user input
if [ "$1" ]
then
PLAYLIST_FILE="$1"
n=0
#remove previously created folders/links (automatically)
read -p "Do you want to remove all old links? (Y/n)" yn
case $yn in
  [Nn]* ) echo "Making links.";;
  * ) echo "Deleting..."; rm $NewLoc/Music -rf; echo "Making links.";;
esac
#read through file line by line
#duplicate folder structure
#hard link files (symlinks don't show up in samba shares)
awk 'BEGIN{FS=" "}{print}' < "$PLAYLIST_FILE" | while read filename;
do
  if [ `echo $filename | cut -c 1` != '#' ]
  then
   folders=`echo "$filename" | awk -F/ 'BEGIN {OFS="/";}{$NF=""}1'`
   mkdir -p "$NewLoc$folders"
   ln "$OrigLoc$filename" "$NewLoc$filename"
  fi
done
else echo "Please choose a playlist file"
fi

Read the previous ‘Metanarratives’ posts: 1, 2, 3

Previously I said that though postmoderns reject metanarratives (in favour of smaller, local narratives) on account of their violent totalizing, my view of scripture is that it does not have to be read as presenting that kind of metanarrative. Here’s why.

We can discern two metanarratives woven through both Old and New Testaments. There is an Empire narrative, the ‘violent redemption’ narrative – we can’t pretend that it’s not there, especially in Joshua, Judges, the Samuels, Kings and Chronicles. But secondly, there’s an anti-Empire narrative of redemption and grace. It’s at play in Exodus in the freeing of the people of Israel, not by their power and skill in war, but God’s wisdom (though we see through the Old Testament that the two stories interweave). In Leviticus, it sets out Jubilee provisions for debts to be broken after 7 years (whether this actually happened or not, the story is there). In Samuel, the blessing of God is on the fugitive, David, not King Saul, but David refuses to fight him or hurt his enemy, despite being a better fighter (again, interwoven with the violence of the struggle with the Philistines). The prophets again and again cry out against the ’empire’ tendencies of Israel/Judah, the way the poor are exploited because they are weak. In the New Testament, the ultimate anti-Empire manifesto is set out in the Sermon on the Mount – Jesus says that the only way to beat the Empire is to refuse to play its games, to be different. The Zealots were just the same as the Legions of Rome, no better for worshipping God. The only way to win was to play a different game, one where love scored points, not hatred.

So without doubt, you can find passages that legitimate violence and the destruction of enemies. But if Jesus is the pinnacle of revelation to the Christian, we must take his words most seriously. Someone has taken Brian McLaren‘s analogy of Scripture as a library of books further, let’s imagine looking at Scripture as a collection of films, the lifetime’s work of one Director. There are different script-writers, different actors, different ‘SFX’, different storylines, locations, morals, but in all the films the same creative genius and vision. There are repeated themes. There are hints, references and in-jokes (just like JJ Abrams does). Each film has to stand alone in some way, even if it’s part of a series within the wider picture. Each one should change you, in a different way for each one, a different way each time you see it. McLaren describes an unfolding revelation and understanding of God though the scriptures – each writer understood God in different ways, we must see their writing as reflecting their individual understanding and interaction with God. This in no way counts out inspiration, unless by inspiration you only mean ‘autowriting’ as Muslims understand the Koran was given. It rather has a realistic view of the human involvement in writing scripture. Everything is interpretation (that’s the postmodern philosophy of Derrida), but it is guided, shaped, guarded and passed on by a community of faith, in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Most metanarratives we come across are ‘univocal’, that is they have one voice, a narrator. The Bible is different – ‘multivocal’ with so many speakers and voices from inside, outside, the rich, poor, men, women – each is represented. These voices are often misunderstood and diminished, but the very structure of Scripture delegitimates its own use to oppress and exclude. The bigger structure backs this up, tending towards the reconciliation of all things in Jesus; a reconciliation not of violent oppression but loving acceptance. I know there is much more to deconstruct in how we actually realise this and bring it into being, and much more to repent of, but that’s my reading of the Christian metanarrative.

Secondly, above I said  that the violence of the Cross is real and central to the Christian message, but that it is an inversion of violence. Art and films like ‘The Passion’ emphasised the brutality of the killing of Jesus, but it was preceded by another violent act, the incarnation. Peter Rollins (in his upcoming book ‘Insurrection’ and other places) talks about the kenosis, or ’emptying’ of Jesus and its place in Christianity (drawing on the work of Gianni Vattimo). The kind of violence that is accepted, even encouraged in Christianity is the dying of self, the identification with Jesus on the cross. This is two fold (probably more, but not fully worked out in my thinking) – one, in our identification with Christ crucified, all the power of sin on our lives if broken, dead; two, we become open to the possibility of joining in the transforming work of Jesus when we too empty ourselves of all that we count as value and instead dedicate ourselves, even if for a moment, to the inbreaking of the Kingdom of God, the actualisation of the reconciliation of all things.

It’s the violence of death that brings us life. In that death, all that crushed us and separated us from life is killed. In that death we find we are able to live a life that is truly alive. In paradox, violence inverts itself when we empty ourselves and choose not to take the way of violence to others but accept it upon ourselves, destroying it in the process.

Human Beings?

As the spectre of violence has loomed over England and perhaps calmed a little (it’s still too soon to know for sure), some more considered reflection on the events and our responses is called for.

The first reflection that is important is the ‘otherness’ language that is being used. The principle of Oak Hill College reflects on how both ends of the political spectrum (drawn largely from the middle class and above, of course), ‘othering’ language has been used. The point from conservative and liberal alike is that whether you call them ‘underprivileged’ or ‘scum’ or something in between, these people are not like ‘us’, they  deserve what they get, whether that is jail time, police batons, tear gas or the army. What very few are daring to say is that ‘they’ are just like us in so many ways. It’s not like consumerism is confined to one class or another. It’s not like aping US culture is confined to one section of society (defined by ethnicity, class, income…) It’s not like alcoholism, glorification of violence, broken families or any other drivers are unique to these people. As I wrote before, we must not forget that the people looting, mugging, rioting, stealing, destroying are first and foremost human beings, people, British people.

As much as I think totalising ‘answers’ to the violence are by definition wrong, this comes pretty close:

 The truth is that these riots are an expression of rage by the British underclass against a system that has instilled desires in them that they can’t materially gain. (An und für sich)

It’s so easy to come up with knee-jerk reactions: ‘send in the army’, ‘use water cannons’, ‘cut their benefits’, ‘feral scum’. I understand a woman whose business and home have been destroyed making these kind of statements, but I wonder at the responsibility of incessantly repeating them as appropriate views for all of society to have. The overwhelming response has been to demonise and further dehumanise the poor and those committing these crimes.

I think that before we judge them, we must consider the outcome we want. Firstly, an end to the violence and terror. Secondly, an end to the conditions and thought patterns that led to them.

The army on the streets might accelerate the first, but will a culture of fearing the government/police/army really reduce the likelihood of violence flaring? I rather think it will bury the problem behind fear, so when it does surface again it has another level of resentment. I do not believe increasing the violence (sorry, ‘robustness’) of the police/government response will have long-term beneficial results.

Cutting benefits of those involved sounds like a good plan, but really it dehumanises those people further. The aim must be to reintegrate them into a society they feel invested in so that destroying and injuring others and their property is the last thing they would do. Cutting the benefits of people already struggling to buy the things that they need/want is a certain way to encourage further criminality. It will not reduce desire tracksuits, TVs and mobile phones, it will only make those desires more impossible.

I don’t believe the Oak Hill article goes far enough in commending a Christian response. We need to incarnate it, make it central to the societal response that is lived out, not just propagated. We need to live lives that demonstrate that greed, materiality and violence are incompatible with the good life. That starts on a personal level, but must extend quickly to the media if it is to impact lives.The weight of consumerism, materialism, sense of entitlement, disappointment and disengagement from society are the things that really need to be addressed.

We must change to prevent this happening again. We must not make it us versus them.

So  you either stand with people crying out violence against their situation, which would require actual engagement and argument with those people however idiotic some may get at times, or you stand with the white rich girls calling them scum. (An und für sich again)

And some Bible for you, too: (Jesus, in Matthew 5, says)

²¹ “You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment.’ ²²But I say to you thateveryone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to the hell of fire. …

⁴³ “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ ⁴⁴But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, ⁴⁵ so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. ⁴⁶ For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?

I don’t recognise this London, this England. It’s not the country and city that I love.

But Britons feel under pressure. The economy, job cuts, benefit cuts, fear, bad news. The pressure gets to everyone, whether they have personally lost their job or had their income cut. The media amplifies the pressure and makes all of us feel at risk all the time. All this in addition to almost a solid ten years of war in the Afghanistan and Iraq, a ‘war on terror’ that has been designed to keep us in a state of heightened tension.

In  a civilised society we need to release the pressure, fear and tension without destruction.

In pre-civilised society and at the dawn of civilisation, violence was the way that tension was released. A village or town would feel the pressure and eventually the bubble would be burst by attacking a neighbouring village or town. It would be young men, predominantly late teens and twenties who would be involved. The violence would be unlimited; looting, pillaging, rape. After the release of the attack, life (for the perpetrators) could go on, back to normal.

Civilisation tames these urges by making them part of the power structures. The violence of the young men is channelled into the army, legitimated in targeting only ‘enemies’. Yet at the edges, when civilisation is fraying and stretched beyond capacity this urge comes back into view.

Unlike the protests for freedom in the Arab countries or protests by real Anarchists, this violence is for the purpose of deliberate destruction and looting only. There is no ideological purpose. There is only release, like the hockey riot in Vancouver.

Anarchists do not behave like this – they have an ideology and almost never loot. Anarchists attacks a a window of a building they have nothing but distaste for. When they have made their point they leave, not loot. They want nothing to do with the contents of that building, whether it’s fast food or blood money, they are disgusted by it. Anarchists attack police because they see them as representatives of a hated government. Anarchist attack buildings to show what revulsion they have for the corporation.

These kids didn’t know or care about Mark Duggan. The simmering disrespect for all authority needed just a spark as a flashpoint. Their feeling of alienation from the power structures of the country and the unrelenting pressure of consumerism contribute to this much more than one man in the back of a taxi.

As a society, we need to recognise that building a culture of fear and tension leads to the potential for this disenfranchisement. We need to think about how the pressure that is built up by economic and other woes can be diffused. We must avoid the danger of expelling and further isolating the youth of our country, hardening their otherness, dehumanising them to the point we feel comfortable attacking them. When the people doing this become a ‘them’ in our media, when they are painted as ‘vermin’, they cease to be human or have any hope of rehabilitation.

There will be people getting home in the early hours of the morning who can’t quite believe what they’ve been involved in. They are caught up in a violent action, a ‘mob mentality’ that they don’t feel in full control of. There are some planning and organising violence who must be punished. But there are many others who are caught up in insanity (who should know better) who need to be reintegrated into a civilised society that must learn how to release the pressure of twenty-first century life. How we respond to this as a nation will show what kind of a civilisation we are and will be.