Sudden Stories about Power & Numbers

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Indivisible Worth

While Captain Evans was dying in his hospital bed he was much comforted by a teenager who visited him daily. They did not speak, but simply moved up alongside him, sitting there unafraid and glowing like an example. Only some could see this, just as only some can perceive the beauty in everyday heroes, in a short and pain-filled life or in not being especially gifted. Certainly, everything can be quantified, anything can be fragmented and assessed on its tradeable value and numbers can stand in for reality. But few hear the hiss of meaning as it drains away, so when the Captain finally died, they fired the teenager.

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The Wildebeest Defence

Wildebeest avoid becoming lunch by overwhelming their predators with numbers. Their teeming activity, dust, sounds and flashing hooves, jam the Lion’s cognition who blink and squint in vain. If you paint a blue circle on the side of a Wildebeest, it is quickly singled out, hunted down and eaten. The blue circle enables the lions to simplify, to pick out just that one wildebeest, after which the animal stands little chance. Presumably, the yellow star, the coloured triangles and orange jump suit, a wheelchair, white cane, dirty clothes, long beard, black skin, breasts, scarred wrists – any difference imaginable – can serve to focus the cognition of predators. We rely on the Wildebeest Defence more than we should.

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Turning Tables

Twelve of us slept in one big room and when we ate together it was like a hurricane. Tuesday was clean pyjama night but also spaghetti bolognaise, so for the rest of the week the kids were bloody. Jeanette B., the latest arrival, had been abused and spent much time silently staring at her shoes. She had fine ginger hair and a different coloured skin. Each day, the grownups bused us to the village school where we were by far the largest group. The Barney brothers (pig farmers) came in second with five, and there were three Davis sisters (who lived in the Post Office). On her first day, two boys cornered Jeanette in the playground and hooted at her as she cowered against the wall. She was crying when Rikki showed up, then Sarah, then two more. Soon, the rest of us wandered over and the swelling group took the bully's faces through a rainbow of expressions that started with easy confidence, then growing surprise and - as our numbers increased still further - shock. Swept by a cloud of cringing fear, they crept away. Rikki grinned and Sarah patted Jeanette on the shoulder. The numbers had changed Jeanette's face also, as she no longer looked at her shoes but instead gazed out across the gathering of ruffians that surrounded her. It was funny to see her face as the cloud of fear slowly lifted.

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On Lumping

Not all Americans are idiots and proud of it, and not all Brits are mad. Not all Muslims are terrorists, nor are all Christians inquisators. Not all Jews support apartheid and not all Russians are alcoholics. This is lumping.

Importantly, not all rich people are like selfish children and not all men hate women. Not all Germans supported fascism but a lot of Americans do.

Some Ethiopians are aircraft engineers while others are not. Almost everyone, on occasion, is unknowingly unkind.

So, to clarify: Not all swans are white, but all white swans are. _________________________________________________

Was He 'Merton Compliant'?

Josephine, originally from Watford but later Newcastle, had little money and was living on a friend's couch when the Home Office gave her a job conducting interviews with asylum seekers. Her trainer said: 'We value all our staff who work tirelessly to keep the public safe, protect the UK Border and ensure we have an effective immigration system.' Josephine was trained by a man who had himself only been there a couple of weeks but he tried his best to answer her questions.

Same thing with Rebaz of South Sudan but now England. No one could answer his questions either. He had crossed the world, chased by fear, learning to wait and run, using the family's money. Then he went on a boat! He loved the UK Coast Guard because they pulled him out of the water, gave him a blanket and some soup. But he was detained for weeks in an 'Immigration Removal Centre' with many people in each building. He had no idea where he was or what might happen. Rebaz was sixteen, but tall, so the Home Office had changed his date of birth to make him an adult. All he had were the clothes he wore, a free SIM card (but no phone) and a smattering of creative English 'learned from YouTube.' Big grin. 'I want to learn. I want to work.'

Josephine interviewed him through toughened glass. Caseworkers must record a certain number of asylum rejections and that day she was upset. Somehow, she had been eased into the role of executioner! How did they do that? There was intimidation here too, she could feel it, but she mistook her discomfort for weakness. That morning, the pressure of numbers, the toughened glass and the horror of her power, overwhelmed her. What a place! It was not surprising that 'decisions on whether an applicant can stay in the UK, supposed to take six months, frequently take two years.' Worse still, and what no one spoke of, was that 'during this time, applicants are in limbo, unable to work or rent property.'

Josephine approved Rebaz's application, then packed her things, never to return. He was bussed with others to a hotel by the sea, where he spent a year in that 'limbo.' Each night he ate the rice and tomatoes (provided by ClearSprings plc (contract with the Home Office), and each day he practiced English and helped the other Sudanese. After a year, he gained 'Morton Compliance', when a doctor and a social worker 'determined' his actual age.

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Walking Out

The garden had a hawthorn hedge and the dog (Dag) had one eye. He was a stray who came begging at the window, emaciated and afraid, and never left. Over the years, he grew round and content, lazily patrolling his territory inside the hawthorn hedge, then sleeping.

When the weather worsened, he came with me in the van, as it now took all day to go anywhere and he was good company. Shops closed, there were frequent power cuts and there was much queuing, shouting and stealing. I saw one young man banging in desperation at a pharmacy window, the ATMs were broken, the roads flooded and - my particular tragedy as I was in pain - there were no dentists. If you called an ambulance, or even the fire service, they never came. The state's sub- contracted officials had disappeared. Dag waited patiently as we queued, and the strange little wink of his missing eye was just menacing enough to make my walk home safer.

Some still await their extreme weather. Even as they brace themselves for the terrifying impact - the one flood, the one storm, this heat wave - they should know it always ends with walking. People drive as far as they can, then drag their suitcases, then abandon their suitcases and then just stop.

From within our little compound, we tried to help the first arrivals who were hungry and afraid. But each day there were more, thickening into hundreds who camped outside the hawthorn hedge and gathered around fires. Their suffering was a continuous hum. Dag barked at them, but when the hedge burnt down people were suddenly in the house. They took everything and ate the dog. After that, I was walking too.

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Mass Exit

An important moment in the Roman Republic was the Secessio Plebis of 494 BCE, when the plebs first used a particular tactic of resistance, at once creative and revelatory. The entire plebeian class walked out of the city and camped on a hill beyond its walls. Here, according to Livy, 'with no officer to direct them... they stayed quietly... there was no violence.'

This caused 'panic' in Rome and 'everything came to a standstill.' As the days passed, the patricians were unable to conduct business, defend their property or resist the opportunism of neighbouring cities. Under growing pressure and with the citizenry refusing to return, the patricians at last consented to an extraordinary 'class-based' innovation – the Tribunate. The Tribunes of the People were elected by the plebs alone, could not be patricians and had the power to veto any policy that went against the interest of the plebeian class. In effect, the Tribunate were constitutionally empowered to protect the plebs from the patricians and to counterbalance the inherent elite bias of institutions.

With the Tribunate to be enshrined in law, the plebs returned to the city. Of course the patricians reneged on this agreement, requiring further mass walkouts, but in his Discourses on Livy, Machiavelli commended the real political achievements of these events, highlighting their symbolic importance. He saw the Secessio Plebis as a demonstration of collective power,, where the people were physically present and visible, both to the patricians and to themselves. Such a mass exit is, he said, 'at once a refusal to play and a dramatic demonstration.'

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