Conservative think tank recommends fathers give higher priority to their children.

Yes, you read that correctly. The Maxim Institute, a New Zealand based conservative think tank, has come out with a report which says that:

Fathers should
* Take their share of responsibility for their children's wellbeing and development.
* Spend time with them, be supportive and involved.

Families should
* Reconsider factors that drive fathers to work long hours, such as the desire for higher living standards.

Employers should
* Accept and support their employees' commitments outside work.
* Allow flexible working hours and working from home where possible.

Social services should
* Communicate with fathers as well as mothers because both affect the child's development.

Society should
* Encourage fathers' involvement with their children from infancy.
* Give higher priority to marriage and committed relationships.

There are many criticisms that could be made regarding the way this compares with other statements from the Maxim Institute. We could point out that longer working hours are in many respects a result of the free-market economics that the Maxim Institute unequivocally champions. We could point out that they're recommending that parents put off buying a house, when home ownership is a standard level of independence and security in New Zealand, and that social programs which could make it easier to have the house and spend time with the kids would probably be opposed by the Maxim Institute. We could point out that some people can't afford a house or time with the kids, and that the Maxim Institute isn't likely to support helping those people, either.

But I just want to point out that this is a conservative think tank, here, looking at the research and deciding, not that mothers should go back to the home, but that fathers should meet them there. I just want to savour how far we've come.

'High Country Weather' by James K. Baxter

I cannot let mention of James K. Baxter pass without bringing up my favourite poem. For a New Zealander, it is a very conventional choice. What can I say? This poem is well-known and beloved for a reason.

High Country Weather

Alone we are born
And die alone;
Yet see the red-gold cirrus
Over snow mountain shine.

Along the upland road
Ride easy, stranger:
Surrender to the sky
Your heart of anger.

I brought this poem up in the first blush of my aching discussions with my former darling love about religion, as an explanation of how my worldview differed fom his. In some ways this was almost a misstep. Archibald Baxter was an unchurched Christian who never mentions praying and barely mentions God. James K, though, was a Catholic convert. How the heck did he write a poem that had such a marked influence on my secular humanism? 'Alone we are born, and die alone' -- famous phrase -- is not the statement of a person who believes himself to be perpetually in the presence of God. But then, 'to be or not to be' is still the question despite the fact that most people, of most religions, believe that not being is not an option!

My point, though, was this. I don't live in a happy manufactured world overseen by a benevolent deity. And I don't need to. As my worldview stands, I have so much invested in seeing-the-red-gold-cirrus-over-snow-mountain-shine! I like it that way. The first line is worth it for the second one. (I have some sympathy as a result for the idea that the best of all possible worlds -- without altering human nature -- might involve suffering. But I'm still pretty sure that this world isn't the best possible one).

And remember, the snow mountain in question is one of those Lord of the Rings New Zealand vistas. Mmkay?

Ride easy, strangers :-)

Archibald Baxter

It's old news: Mother Teresa had far more doubt than almost anyone knew. She expected to feel God's presence; she did not. In public, she professed perfect faith; in private, she called herself a hypocrite for doing so. She spent the majority of her life in an agony of extreme cognitive dissonance.

I may not have the measure of her, but I'd say she was someone who was capable of denying any and all inner feelings in service of -- well -- of the rules; of the rules she believed represented the pathway to supreme goodness. It is presumptuous of me, but I sympathise. Though I freely concede that there are many counts on which she may be criticised, when it comes to the criticism of hypocrisy I, yes, I who love the truth, can only be grateful that it was her and not me.

Ironclad adherence to such demanding rules excites quite understandable awe from some. In the past, I have thought that this is religion's major card: the ability to inspire perfect determination, to declare with such certainty that people will go far beyond what is normal for human beings in an attempt to follow. Such a card can be used either for good or for evil, of course. In adding certainty, religion becomes an amplifier. But is this the only way to achieve a remarkable act of conscience? No. No, it isn't.

In 1917, the New Zealand Defence Department decided to make examples of some conscientious objectors. Fourteen such were removed from prison and shipped off to Europe, there to be forced to take part in the action. One was released, having been transported by mistake (he belonged to a recognised religious sect which advocated nonviolence and was hence a 'legal' objector). Three submitted after 28 days of detention in England which included solitary confinement, forced dressing, handcuffs, verbal and physical abuse, and a bread-and-water diet.

The remaining ten were sent to France. Threatened with being shot, three more broke. The rest were sent to the lines. Three of those were court-martialled, repeatedly threatened with the death penalty, and eventually sentenced to two years' hard labour in a prison in Dunkirk. Conditions were hard; all three were hospitalised with illness of some sort or other. Finally all three agreed to become stretcher-bearers. One was killed in action.

The other four were subjected to No.1 field punishment: morning and afternoon, for a fixed period of time, they were tied to a forward-leaning stake by the ankles, knees and wrists. Crucifixion, if you will. One agreed to bear a stretcher after 28 days of this. Another was hospitalised and became a stretcher-bearer upon recovery. Two remained defiant until the end.

Not my country's finest hour.

The two who held out? Mark Briggs and Archibald Baxter. Briggs was a leader among the fourteen, defiant and uncompromising. By the end of the war he had been declared physically unfit for service as a result of the abuse he received. Baxter, though, is really something else. His autobiographical account, We Will Not Cease, is described by some as 'remarkable for its lack of animosity'. That isn't the half of it. No, the truly remarkable thing about Archibald Baxter is his distinct lack of cognitive dissonance. In his autobiographical account, Baxter is never certain how far he will be able to hold out. He does not set his teeth. He does not set his position in stone and then hold to it. He simply remains in tune with his personal convictions, whatsoever they may be.

Baxter would never have wanted me to imply he shared my atheism, so before I go further let me explain that he was most definitely Christian: unchurched, but Christian. In explaining his objection to war, he says

"To me, Christianity is based on the commandment: 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.' I do not profess to be able to live up to this ideal, but one can at least go so far along the road as to try to treat other people as one would wish to be treated by them, and war cuts this position at its very roots."

As a freethinker, I find Baxter's achievements remarkable and inspirational. If it is possible to hold out under such strain while still remaining in touch with one's real and human conscience (rather than with an ideal set in stone), then perhaps it is also possible to navigate in life while still in touch not only with conscience but with reason: aware that our views may change, aware that under some circumstances we might be too broken to hold out, but still, for now, following what we believe to be true and good. If we are to aim for heroism, let it not be heroism of the Mother Teresa style. Let us rather trust our own hearts and minds, and have courage in what they tell us.

Baxter eventually passed out from starvation (long story), and woke up in an English mental hospital. Presumably they assumed that someone who wasn't eating was probably mentally disturbed. At any rate, he stayed in mental institutions until the end of the war. The exact extent to which he needed mental attention and the extent to which the English medical people were simply trying to keep him from further abuse by the New Zealand authorities is unclear; in his autobiography, Baxter does not consider himself to have been truly mad. Nevertheless, it is undoubtedly true that his experiences left him with considerable psychological damage -- he had nightmares for years afterwards.

Archibald Baxter married Millicent MacMillan Brown in 1920. Millicent was the daughter of Helen Connon, one of the first female BAs in the British Empire. She was educated in Sydney and Cambridge; he was a self-educated farm labourer. When Millicent was 90, someone asked her what she would do if she was sixty years younger, and she is said to have replied without hesitation "I'd marry my husband again." Their second son, James K. Baxter, was one of the greatest poets New Zealand has ever produced.

More on satire and free speech in New Zealand.

After writing my last blog post, I knew I'd been neglecting my duty as a citizen by not writing letters about the ban on using parliamentary footage for satirical purposes. So I sat down to write an email. But who to write to? My local MP? I hate Gerry Brownlee. Well, all right, not hate hate, but I don't really think of him as representing my views and writing to him as if I cared about the finer points of what he thinks felt a bit dishonest; I'd never vote for him. Helen Clark as head of the Labour government? Ha! Fat chance. I have considerable respect for Helen Clark, but she's a pragmatic politician and I can't imagine any argument I might make counting for much beyond a chalk mark in one direction or the other. In this I may or may not be being unfair.

So I wrote to Jim Anderton, leader of the Progressive Party with its single seat in government, closely aligned with Labour and holding a seat in cabinet, not in Labour because he split with the party in the 1980s when they weren't being particularly Labour-ish, and in, it has been noted, his 'fourth political incarnation' (the other two changes of party allegiance being a merger and, more recently, yet another split).

Notwithstanding his occasional apparent difficulties with strict party allegiance, Anderton's a good politician. Someone asked Helen Clark, when she was elected for her second term and Jim Anderton had just been demoted somewhat, becoming the leader of a much smaller party than the one he's previously been leader of, if she'd still keep him in cabinet and she said something to the effect that she'd be silly not to use a person like that, given that the talent was available. She meant it.

My letter went as follows:

Dear Mr. Anderton,

I'm not quite in your electorate -- wrong side of Riccarton Road. But yours is one of the parties I'd consider giving my party vote to, so I figure you have reason to listen to me. I was sorry to read that the Green Party was the only party with sufficient conscience to vote against banning satirical use of footage of parliamentary debates. I confess I might have expected better of you. Did you really have to fall in line on this one?

It's a free speech issue, and it's not just a technicality. When I look at the current state of American politics, there's a lot to despair about in the behaviour of George W. Bush's administration, and it's easy to get frustrated with the media coverage, straight-facedly reporting politically-motivated firings, illegal wiretapping and all the rest of it, with no easy way to express the enormity of the accusations. Enter satire in the form of Jon Stewart and The Daily Show. The former Deputy Attorney General reports to Congress on an incident that basically involved coercion of the then Attorney General when he was groggy after an operation, and a member of Congress says (with typical political cautiousness) "Hearing your testimony, I almost gulped". It's really important that the Daily Show was able to air that clip of a parliamentary session, air it and follow it with "You ALMOST gulped? What -- do they have to sodomize the Declaration of Independence in front of you?" Vulgar, perhaps, but I'd say it's a necessary way of conveying disgust and outrage. Sometimes satire is the only sufficiently powerful way to say something really important.

You have disappointed me.

Yours sincerely,
[Lynet]

Recently I received the following reply:

Dear [Lynet]

Thank you for your message of 30 July objecting to the prohibition of the use
of vidoe footage of parliament's proceeding for satirical purposes.  I share
your views on the importance of free speech as being central to  the operation
of any democracy.  It is for this reason that I am opposed, for example, to what
is termed 'anti-hate' legislation banning material  which denigrates groups in
general such as homosexuals or ethnic minorities. Problems of tolerance are
best resolved by open and robust debate.  Why then, as you rightly ask, would
I support such legislation as that to  which you object?  Let me make three
observations:

The first is that the right to free speech is not an absolute right in all
circumstances.  As the US Chief Justice Holmes once sagely remarked it does
not, for example, include the right to cry 'fire' in a crowded theatre.  Sometimes
there can be other considerations to be taken into account.

The second, flowing from that, is that in this case the ban is on the use of
recorded material for 'satire, ridicule or denigration' of the House.  As you
may know, historically parliament in England from which we inherit our
pariamentary traditions, has always been very jealous of its dignity, as
well it might be as what is essentially the highest court in the land and the
fount of all laws.  Insisting on that dignity as a crucial element in its
independence is also one of the key bases of parliamentary democracy, and
has been since the seventeenth century when its independence was fought
for and established.  And so, in banning satire, ridicule and denigration,
the House is also protecting parliamentary democracy and that must be
balanced against the right to absolute free speech.  It is a mootpoint
whether or not the word 'satire' is necessary in that context; it might be that
the other two words suffice.  But this parliamentary standing order is for
this session only and will be reviewed at its end.  That leaves open the
prospect that a change will be made to a more suitable form of words (as
some would see it).  That remains to be seen.  In the mean time it needs to
be borne in mind that the full standing order opens up the options for
citizens to view parliament at work much more widely than at present and
actually contributes to, rather than subtracts from, freedom of reportage.

The third point is merely to remark that I would be more impressed by the high
moral tone adopted by some of ther media towards this provision if they were
taking full advantage of their freedoms to report as they stand now.  Largely
all we get of parliament on television in particular is Question Time when a
conflict occurs.  Very good copy I have no doubt.  But Question Time is
deliberately set up as an adversary situation to  dramatise the issues of the day
and no-one should be surprised if it gets a bit lively from time to time.  However,
it also occupies a mere fraction of what happens in parliament, most of which is
conducted on a largely bi-partisan basis i.e. parliamentarians do actually spend
most of their time now 'getting on with running the country' as many of our
critics so loudly demand we should..  The purpose of broadcasting parliament is
to better inform citizens of what is happening in government - an objective I
thoroughly endorse - but it is a bit hard to see how insisting that showing
pictures of MPs yawning or reading the paper advances that object, or should
be given precedence over the reporting of e.g. Select Committee
proceedings, which is allowed under the rules but which rarely makes it into
the news.

I should finally comment that it is not my practise to take political positions
solely on the basis that people will vote for me or the Progressive Party.  I
hope that they will, but I prefer that should happen on the basis of our policies
overall rather than our stance on this issue or that of the day.

I trust that covers your concerns but please feel free to write to me further if
you continue to have concerns.

With best wishes

Yours sincerely
Jim Anderton
MP for Wigram and Leader of the Progressive Party

Damn, he's good.  I'm still not sure about the idea of
safeguarding parliament's dignity -- the dignity of
parliament most definitely stands or falls on the integrity of
its members (it wasn't until I read Michael King's history
of New Zealand that I realised that the deep scorn and
distrust of politicians that I was aware of as a small kid
probably has some of its roots in Ruth Richardson's 'mother
of all budgets' that left many destitute, and the less than
benevolent Labour government that preceded it).  Still, he
argues well, doesn't he?

We need our own satire (sigh)

Jon Stewart is, naturally, particularly amusing to me in this segment:

Yeah, it sucks about the no satire rule, and I'm sorry to see so many politicians sacrifice principle for the sake of pride -- sorry, but not surprised, because every New Zealander knows you can't trust the bastards. There's still plenty of room for satire, mind -- you just can't use parliamentary footage. Some of the television networks have suggested they'll break the rules if they get footage that suggests satire. Good for them. Notwithstanding that, I've probably been shirking my duty as a citizen by not writing letters on this one.

The best part of the segment is Stewart's blatant cluelessness about my country, of course:

"Whangarei [and I feel like I shouldn't spell that correctly, given the mangled pronunciation] is the northernmost city in New Zealand, known, comically, as a cultural backwater."

Yeah, right.

Gore, Mr. Stewart, Gore is the town most commonly referred to, comically, as a cultural backwater. In the South. Where it's cold, so people don't want to live there so much. Because this is the Southern Hemisphere.

I guess we really do need our own satire.