The price of greatness is responsibility – an open letter to Tysoe Parish Council…

Government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the Earth.

– Abraham Lincoln

We seem to have forgotten what politics is. What politics is really for. It is not for self-aggrandizement – i.e. for the enlargement of egos – but for serving the requirements of the constituent population: whether this is at national, regional, district, or at parish level. Anyone elected to any governing body should therefore always remember why they were elected; how they were elected; and who they were elected by. To misquote another American president: Ask not what your village can do for you; ask what you can do for your village. Perhaps, whatever your religion – or lack of it – Christmas provides the perfect opportunity for such reflection.

This is therefore just a polite request – from one of your many constituents – that you work together; and work through any differences you may have (amongst yourselves; or with other parties who may believe they hold sway in the village – however delusional their reasons…) for the good of the village. If such responsibilities are not your principal measures – your principal guides – then perhaps you should rethink your relationship with those you serve; or the standing of those who would try to wield over you power that they should not have. I do not – however beautiful the landscape; however generous the majority of my fellow residents – wish to live in a village riven by the selfishness and solipsism of an élite few, who believe, through sheer arrogance (whose only fuel can ever be ignorance), that it is only their wishes and needs that should be fulfilled; that only their supposed ‘vision’ for the Tysoe we all love is correct.

Another request, therefore, is that – particularly with regards to the Neighbourhood Plan – the Parish Council returns to first principles: and asks those of us who live here whether such a plan is actually required; if so, what form it should take, what we think should be in it, and how we would like it to be put together. I would rather this, than have stricture imposed on us from above by those whose perspectives are skewed by either supposed expertise, wealth, or bigheadedness.

And, no, I don’t have the answers. I also don’t have the power; or feel I should have it. I am just one small voice; one small part of this place – who loves it beyond measure; knows, if push came to shove, that it would survive (as it has done for centuries) without the interference of heavy-handed governance; shaped by those forces – internal and external – that invisibly wax and wane in and around it.

What I do know, though, is that I do not want our local councillors to act like the worst combative proponents of the Westminster ‘bubble’. You may disagree with his (and my) socialism – which I must assume many of you would, considering the local demographic – but I doubt if anyone can disagree, deep down, with the politeness, conviction and sheer decency of the way Jeremy Corbyn conducts his type of politics. Such thoughtfulness befits us all. Especially those who have the power to mould other people’s lives. Especially at this time of year.

People who live in large houses shouldn’t be thrown bones…

There is something strangely and immensely edifying in being implicated as a “moron” by a former adviser to arch war‑criminal and Thatcherite (I honestly don’t know which of these two traits is worse; or has caused most lasting human damage…) Anthony Charles Lynton “get a transplant” Blair – the man who tried to put both the hyphen and hatchet into socialism.

It must, I imagine, feel similar to being savaged by moist cotton-wool; or, perhaps, being on the receiving end of an Internet troll (a creature that only exists to be ridiculed pitied) – especially one who you know (simply from their existence) to be ignorant, irrelevant, and arrogant: i.e. not in possession of either the facts, or any sort of sympathy (let alone empathy) for those less fortunate (if you can describe someone as such who probably does not rank very high on the evolutionary scale, or have much nous).

Trolling of any sort, though (however sad its proponents) – like so many pathetic demands for attention – is, in reality, an offensive, although pointless, pastime: which ranks (both senses), in intention (if not effect), at exactly the same level of iniquity (as well, of course, of stupidity) as the disability hate crime I recently experienced (and which has been efficiently and thoughtfully dealt with, now, by the Police: who continue to offer their sterling support…). And it makes no difference who partakes in such infantile bullying: megalomaniac ex-PM, or the local pub bore. They should both be ignored equally.

It is, of course, their own counsel such poorly-endowed pillicocks should really be paying regard to… – although I am not convinced of the value of donating a heart to someone who appears not to currently have the use of one (or indeed any actual values…). And, although I am not religious, the caution to “Judge not, that ye be not judged” does seem quite apposite, here – knowing that many who taunt and attack, for example, supposedly “feckless, workshy scroungers”, will one day come to regret (if they are capable of such an emotion) their actions when they find themselves disabled and/or jobless: the leaky shoe now on their afflicted foot; and on the receiving end of spookily familiar physical and verbal vitriol. (How very sad.)

What this tirade is leading to (as you may have guessed – another helpful hint is in the above graphic) is a declaration that I shall be wielding my vote in Labour’s leadership contest – both with my fully-functioning heart and highly-intelligent head – in favour of Jeremy Corbyn: proudly, sincerely, and joyfully, wearing my red Labour: I prefer their early work T-shirt as I do so (perhaps over my purple Barney costume). Anything else would be “moronic”: a sop to the Tories and to “austerity lite” – i.e. contributing to negating the future of those not in the richest one percent: the sort of people who think nothing of paying $50,000 to take a life, for example.

Such pandering faithlessness would also, of course, prioritize the simplistic, solipsistic greed to win, to achieve power – at all costs? – over the genuine need to legislate based on belief, care, and duty. This avarice may be the short-termist modus operandi of present politics, present government (which is probably the paradigm that the excrementitious bugaboos who stalk the ’Net – and inhabit the right-wing media – so thoroughly delude themselves in emulating); but it is not my way; nor that of anyone who has both sense and sensibility (not to mention plain common decency…).

In other words, just because “you are 80 per cent cow” does not mean that you should be part of the unthinking herd jostling towards the same slaughterhouse of failed ideas (or an uninvited bull shitting in an intellectual china shop); nor should you fail to wake up to the fact that, as a species, it is “the social genome” – and not the selfish gene – that has made humans (so far, reasonably) successful.

We would be nothing without altruism and cooperation: and should therefore ignore the frequent narcissistic tales told by idiots – wherever they issue their crass, negative convictions – “full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing”; and seek – and choose – our principals accordingly: with minds (and souls) fully and positively engaged.