Looking A Gift Horse In The Mouth

2007 being the bicentenary of the abolition of the Atlantic slave trade means it’s inevitable that Bristol take a long sober review of it’s past. The city has done a pretty good job of sweeping the issue of its involvement in the slave trade under the carpet for the past couple of centuries and it’s only in the past two decades that projects such as Pero’s bridge have provided some sort of acknowledgement. There’s a long way to go.
Many Bristolian's, of all backgrounds, will say that the past is the past and we should let the issue lie and look to the future. But there are also many who say that the city is full of references to the despicable trade, street names, schools, public buildings that act as a reference, an almost approving subliminal reminder as to how the city made its money.
One name over all stands out. Colston, the city benefactor of the 18th century who made his fortune from slavery.
Civil rights campaigner Paul Stephenson is calling for The Colston Hall, the most famous city dedication to the man and currently under conversion, to be renamed after it is rebuilt. It’s a story that’s generating huge interest in the city, because if successful it could be the catalyst for a major reinterpretation of Bristol’s history and even what it means to be Bristolian. Or it could simply be seen as an exercise in politically correct point scoring benefiting from a highly charged and emotional issue that has riven local opinion for some time.
Bristol band Massive Attack, for example, refused to play the Colston Hall on the grounds of its namesake‘ business interests. As gestures go this was genuinely felt and noble.
But, disappointingly, it was then rendered somewhat hollow by the band’s announcement that they would be playing a rare hometown show not at, say Ashton Gate or the grounds of a local school but in Queen Square, once the administrative quarter of Bristol’s ‘respectable’ trade and named after the industry’s poster girl, Queen Anne.
This highlights the modern day confusion in Bristol about the city’s involvement in slaving - whether directly or indirectly - during the 18th century and how easily the ‘facts’ are misinterpreted, not necessarily intentionally, to suit the ends.
Why it is unacceptable for performers to play in a hall named a hundred or so years posthumously after a man who made vast profits from slavery, but it’s ok to perform in the centre of a square dedicated to Queen Anne, a 22.5% shareholder in the slave trading near monopoly that was the South Sea Company, in which still stand merchant buildings that were mortgaged by the blood of Africans.
Bristol, the city, embraced the slave industry (so did Bath, by the way) and made an awful lot of money out of it either by sugar and tobacco trading, direct slave trading or by forcing slaves to work on plantations in the West Indies owned by Bristolians. The facts are in stone all over the city.
This, I think, needs to be acknowledged on a practical, workable and city wide sense, but can it be done by focussing on just one skeleton from Bristol’s 18th century closet, i.e. Colston?
This is a big talking point in Bristol and while it might be wide of the mark, there’s passionate debate between the pro and anti Colston camps.
While I don’t agree that Colston is the be all and end all of Bristol’s slavery connection, he is the most prominent historical figure and his name still looms large in modern day Bristol. I’ve long thought that this is wrong. Many Bristolians disagree with me.
Criticise Colston and the two responses you are most likely to hear are: “But, you need to put it into context of the times, it was an accepted trade etc.” Well, no it wasn’t. It was a widespread trade but that doesn’t make it universally accepted in any context. There were many in Britain during the 18th & early 19th century who were dead set against slavery; William Wilbeforce wasn’t just whistling in the wind vaguely hoping that someone might pick up the tune.
The next most common, and perhaps most specific, argument for celebrating Colston’s commitment to Bristol will be along the lines of his great philanthropic works, his personal zeal for providing education for the poor and easing the hardship of the aged and infirm.
This is undeniable fact.
But at whose cost was it achieved?
Because you could, reasonably I think, counter the praise for his good works by pointing out that Mussolini got the trains running on time in Italy while at the same time over in Germany Hitler oversaw a revolutionary programme of mass motorway building (thanks in large to slave labour). Neither of the pair have a major concert hall dedicated to them.
What good, though, does it do to keep going over old ground, picking at scar tissue and flicking the accusatory scabs across the divide? How are we, as a city, going to find a practical and workable solution before most of us get so bored with the subject that its rendered practically meaningless?
I don’t know, but, for what it’s worth...
We can’t re-map Bristol and wipe away the references to Colston that abound in the city, it would be little more than a Stalin-esque editing of history and inconvenient truths that ultimately would prove nothing. We could, though, initiate some sort of scheme that would see plaques positioned next to street signs and buildings that explained their history and origin.
That said, I back Paul Stephenson 100% on renaming the Colston Hall.
The hall is about to undergo a £20million restoration, when it’s completed it will, ostensibly, be a different venue. So let’s seize the opportunity and give it a different name. Who we should honour should be for the city to decide by public vote. There’s still the question of the statue of Colston brow furrowed head in hand that dominates the Centre. Some say kick it over. But why not commission a statue of a newly emancipated slave, shackles waving in his hands and place it directly opposite him so that they can look each other in the eye.

THE KIDS AREN'T ALRIGHT

News that children as young as 11 could have their fingerprints taken and stored on a government database has met with predictable uproar from woolly liberals, hippies and Parliamentary opposition parties, as a further step towards a complete surveillance state.The plan, mooted as part of preparations for biometric passports and identity cards, could, says everyone who doesn't agree, herald the end of the presumption of innocence.

The story's this. As of 2008, all adults who apply for new passports will have their fingerprints recorded in the National Identity Register. But top civil servants are worried that some youths with child passports, valid for five years, could then be travelling on passports without biometric details when they turn 16.

That's carte blanche to commit crime and blow things up. Clearly.

So, to make sure all passports held by those over 16 have biometric details, the Identity and Passport Service proposes a fingerprint database for 11 to 15-year-olds. They estimate that they will take the fingerprints of 295,000 children who apply for passports in 2010, and that eventually 495,000 youngsters a year will be getting inky fingers.

Of course, if you had a massive new database of fingerprints, what other uses could you find for it. Hmmmm...wouldn't the police, for instance, find it useful?

Yes, say the hippies and the Jesus sandal-shod geography teachers and the Conservative Party, and it's the death knell for the presumption that everyone is considered innocent before they are found guilty.

But wait a minute. If we have the resources to nip things like crime in the bud, shouldn't we all be sleeping a little sounder in our beds?

I think so. In fact, I don't think the Government is going far enough.

Rather than having an age of criminal responsibility - currently applied to 10-year-olds - let's introduce an age of criminal inevitability and arrest anyone suspected of being 10 years old.

Habeas corpus could do with a revision, too. It would be easy enough to pass. For starters, it's Latin so how can anyone in state education nowadays possibly know what it means?

Getting rid of it needn't burden the overcrowded prison system. Ten-year-olds can already be easily incarcerated at home for the price of a PlayStation, a daily dose of fizzy drinks and industrial-sized packs of Cheesy Wotsits.

Thanks to the best efforts of the anti-conker Nazis of the Health and Safety executive, drivers conducting 60mph conversations on their mobile phones and scare stories of a paedophile on every corner, a fair proportion of under-16s are already institutionalised in every way but name by their concerned parents, so to implement lock-downs at home by stealth law could hardly be easier.

So, I say, ban habeas whatsitcalled.

Who in their right mind would complain when you look at the evidence, anyway? Ten-year-olds are a shifty lot by their very nature and the streets would be a safer place without BMXs and scooters strewn across the doorways of newsagents and footballs flying around public parks. I don't trust them, personally, with their scabby knees and pockets full of dead daddy longlegs, Panini stickers and recommissioned, decommissioned Kosovan firearms.

I admit, I have some personal reasons for locking up 10-year-olds and throwing the wardens away. A brush I had with a member of the tweeny underclass still makes me wake up screaming. I was in a supermarket a few years ago when I saw a lad of about nine filling his pockets at the pick-n-mix.

Rather than making a scene, I thought the best approach would be to sidle up to him and quietly but firmly tell him to stop what he was doing.

So I did.

But was this young Fagin ashamed but appreciative of my tact, my attempt to quietly put him back on the right track? Did he say "thanks mister, it's a fair cop. I was lost, g'vner, but now I'm found out"?

Did he hell.

Seemingly deranged, mouth foaming from a gobfull of sherbet lemons, he lobbed a handful of rhubarb and custards in my face (which, by the way, are sharp and smooth in all senses, especially if you get one in the eye) and then offered me outside for a fight.

He actually wanted to have a street fight with me, a man three times his size and eight times his weight.

Now, in a situation like that, a number of questions whizz their way brainwards.

Such as, is he bluffing? Because if he isn't, he's probably pretty tough and not going to observe the Queensbury rules. So how badly will he hurt me? Are we talking nursing a bruised shin, or being fed through a straw for the rest of my life?

That aside, the law's a bit hazy on the whole adults fighting with children thing and anyway, it's not very, well, dignified, is it? Never mind if the adult in question thinks he stands a good chance of losing.

So, instead, I stood at the picking-a-fight-n-mix, pride dented by sharp-edged boiled confectionery, thinking of options.

"Right," I finally said, "I'm going to tell on you."

I sloped off pretending to be in search of a responsible, hopefully gun toting, member of staff but really looking for an exit to leave by or a crack in the Earth's crust to leap into with the sound of "ooh, shown up!" ringing in my ears.

In the sober light of five years later, I concede that it's probably a good thing that our great government would never take an ego bruised by a mini-criminal as a recommendation to rush out ill-thought new laws.

They would never do that, right?

The idea to fingerprint, rank and file our children in a society that is already under more surveillance than any other country in the world is just 'blue sky thinking', nothing sinister. If you think your civil rights are eroding faster than the cliffs of the south coast you're paranoid. If you say so, expect a knock on the door.

Take their word for it. It will never happen. Until it does.

Anyway, personally speaking, I'm tremendously reassured by such a forward looking, nothing to hide government. I look forward to further 'blue sky' debate, such as bringing back hanging, and abolishing the vote.