Author: admin

Meaning within it all

Looking to education, it’s often said we should be drawing out what’s in the person – their unique talents, insights, experiences, concerns. Which, of course, must be an important part of that process. But is it all there is to it?

It’s a comment often arising alongside reflections on the root of the word, educare: to lead, bring out or develop potential. But what’s the picture there? Is it of children living as in a dark cave, needing to be led into the light of day? Is that a picture of ignorance into enlightenment? Or are the child’s capacities metaphorically in that cave, to be coaxed out and strengthened?

Doesn’t the picture we have in mind make a world of difference? It’s this age-old debate between innate capacities and the need for socialisation into the adult realities of environment; which, in practice, leads to compromises as we effectively hedge our bets (see Notes One).

Even if that’s the case, could the answer actually lie in that middle ground anyway? Yes, we bring ourselves with us as we navigate life; but we must also understand how our world came to be as it is. Maybe we need that balance of integration there.

Just as young people aren’t blank slates within some hypothetical environment, there’s a backstory to society. We bring our complexities to life, the product of our formative interpersonal, emotional, and physical development; and likewise, the world we’re in has its complex, imperfect, but valuable past.

Much as education works better if we engage the experiences and interests of each child in the process of learning; surely, we need to honestly unpack the world’s realities? Knowing how we got here: decisions that were made, their foreseen or unforeseeable consequences, the aims in mind, and an impartial appraisal of where things stand must give a surer footing for deciding what’s next? (Notes Two)

At times we seem keen to discount the past; sweep it away and walk forward with what we have. Personally, I’ve always tended to look for meaning: to understand why things happened, what lessons are there to be learnt. But that’s tricky. With an individual or society, the convergence of factors at play is almost impossible to gain certainty over. Yet we all emerge from such a past.

While it might be tempting to just forget that, put it in the ‘too difficult’ pile and get on with the relentless demands of life, what does it mean to do so? To forge on with what we have, working our way into the best spot we can then battling to hold our ground economically, socially, emotionally and psychologically.

What is it to detach from the past? To take the good, forget the bad, and cast aside the intentions, insights and experiences of previous generations. It’s not quite a picture of people emerging into a full, compassionate, yet evaluative understanding of their world; learning to relate authentically, respectfully and considerately to what surrounds them; then working together in making that better.

Notes and references:

Note 1: Education with the future in mind
Note 1: Ideas around education & responsibility
Note 1: The social metaphor of education
Note 2: Able to see what matters?
Note 2: The idea of self reliance
Note 2: Dealing with imperfection
Note 2: Common knowledge

Thoughts around attitudes to the past, among other things, were the subject of Respect, rebellion & renovation.

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Tuning out from environment

I’ve talked many times here about nature, our relationship with it and all that it offers. Beyond our more obvious physical dependence upon it for resources such as air, water, warmth, light, and food; there’s also the other, psychological, sustenance it provides by way of beauty, wonder, and reassuring metaphors around renewing life (see Notes One). But I’m aware such musings can seem anachronistic.

There’s obviously immense splendour to the natural world; as well as many other qualities like humour, poignancy, danger, or scientific value. All these ways that nature can pop up within modern life, whether as light relief from the strain of how we’re living or alongside growing concern around the risks attached to that lifestyle in terms of natural resources and environmental impacts.

And maybe those broad simplifications of modern ‘interest’ in nature hint at our altered relationship to this world around us? At how we’re now looking to this as a backdrop, a commodity, a venue for social or sporting pursuits, an aspect of carefully-curated personal style. Is the world around us simply ‘a setting’ or something we pull into frame as a prop within our lives? Or is that a slightly detached way of viewing it?

Looking to the past, communities generally lived in very close harmony with the natural world: patterns of work, cultural traditions, food and clothing often stemming from the resources of any given place and time. People would structure their lives around the seasons and their harvests, making use of all that was available and paying close attention to the signs and relationships within nature.

Even fairly recently we seem to have had a much closer connection with our environment; often working closely with it and knowing the names, timings, and details of the lives of its plants and animals. There seems to have been this close observation of interest, admiration, wonder, respect, and gratitude for both the beauty and opportunity nature affords us.

Not to say that’s entirely disappeared, but it certainly seems to have faded out or be doing so fairly dramatically. The sense in which we often now live in essentially urban environments, without the immediate proximity of industries such as farming, seems to be giving rise to generations of people with very little by way of that living relationship and understanding of the natural environment.

Rather than existing within nature, ordering our lifestyles and celebrations around it, acting in respectful cooperation with it and seeing it as an indispensable resource for our continued enjoyment of life, our attitudes now seem so casual and distant. Presumably this relationship needs to be mutual? A sense of tending, preserving, enriching that which gives us what we need?

So much has changed in the last hundred years or so, and perhaps “this” is the least of it; but I don’t see how we can logically justify such detachment from our environment when we are almost completely dependent upon it. Reducing nature to frivolous self-service or casual disregard is surely pretty questionable?

Notes and References:

Note 1: Intrinsic value of nature
Note 1: Why are we like this about the weather?
Note 1: Nature speaks in many ways, do we listen?
Note 1: “Ecological Intelligence”
Note 1: Gardening as therapy, the dark
Note 1: Aesthetic value of nature
Note 1: Living the dream

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Where would we stand if this were lost?

What do we stand to lose, as people? Presumably that’s the line of reasoning for assessing any form of risk: what’s at stake; how easily could we replace it; what would it cost to do so; and, can we afford that? This idea of imagining what might happen and somehow making our peace with it, financially as much as personally. Turning it round to look at modern society, where does that reasoning lead?

Because it seems we’re quite clearly shifting toward running most, if not all, of our essential social functions through the medium of technology (see Notes One). Naturally, I’d imagine. Every civilisation probably took its tools and turned them toward the problems of life; reconfiguring their existence to some extent around what was becoming possible. In that light, technology is simply the most recent manifestation of progress.

But then, it’s evidently a tool that operates on a scale the world had never seen: reconfiguring international patterns of communication, commerce and cooperation; redistributing resources, products and functions; shifting ideas at an astonishing pace, and conceivably changing how we are as people in ways no one can entirely predict. Possibly the first tool humanity’s ever had the luxury of wielding that has such huge reach.

Our previously distinct, relatively isolated communities are seemingly now merged by many visible and invisible means; creating countless sub-communities and common interests that transcend our national borders to interlink us all in ways we might not fully realise. The complex reality of this modern, global community is fascinating to contemplate, much as we no longer actually see the impacts we’re having on others (Notes Two).

What does it all mean? What is it that we’re deconstructing on the local or national scale and confidently rebuilding on this global one? What way of thinking about life are we transposing there, as we effectively reshape all these corners of the planet with our activities? What ideals or beliefs around the value of human life and the significance of our existence are we using as the foundation for all this?

And what does it mean that we’re so often removing local infrastructure such as high street retailers, accessible offices, and other tangible functions and services around which our physical communities were built? Surely, at the core of it all, we’re still humans with a sense of place, belonging, warmth, interaction, and the value we add through our actual physical presence and contribution? (Notes Three)

Within all this, our choices are inevitably adding up; potentially chipping away at some quite fundamental aspects of what makes us human and connects us meaningfully, purposefully, respectfully with one another. All these small shifts and compromises must be changing things in countless untold ways as society gradually takes on these new forms.

What are the forms, functions and values underpinning this way of life and how we’re going about things now? What are we taking apart in the physical world and shifting into this other, virtual one? And, where does that leave us?

Notes and References:

Note 1: Market forces or social necessities
Note 1: Technology & the lack of constraint
Note 2: Value in visible impacts
Note 2: Community as an answer
Note 3: At what point are we just humans?
Note 3: “Wisdom” by Andrew Zuckerman
Note 3: Obligations and contributions

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What we know to pass on

Do we know what’s important in life? Say, the ten most essential things we really must know? Or even, with regard to any given piece of information, whether it’s important for others to know it as well? Whether each little fact, insight or comment actually counts much at all. We must all carry a lot of baggage in life, a great deal of information and resources of various kinds, but does it even matter?

Diving right in there, we’re clearly inundated with advice. Pretty much as soon as we’re born, and potentially every single day since, we’re being told things: expectations; warnings; instructions; little hard-won pearls of wisdom; random tips about zips; more thorough guidance on how the world works; whole bodies of knowledge imparted through formal learning. All this, and more.

As if everyone’s filtering through all the stuff they’ve been given and chucking a tonne of it at you, just in case. We must do it on a personal level, almost without thinking: all the statements, judgements and choices we make forming this stream of information about how we see life. Then it’s happening in this more coordinated fashion through media, education, government, and entertainment (see Notes One).

It’s fascinating really, this massive intergenerational conversation between all these interested parties. Each one having their own agenda in terms of how they view “you”, the hopes or expectations they have for your existence, and all they plan to achieve through communicating with you in these ways. Then there’s the whole global, instantaneous, commercial edge we now have on top of it all.

What are we supposed to do with that? How are we to discern the essential from the non-essential? If we’re presented with twenty facts and one of them is crucially important – a piece of information that, if we live our life by it, will make everything so much easier – but the other nineteen flashy, appealing ideas dancing round it are almost completely useless, how are we to know?

And if we’re the ones passing on information, how do we compete with a world that’s acting this way? If we’re trying to communicate something that seems really very important and life-changing, but we look around and see this crazy, screaming world of distracting commercial novelty, what can we do? Do we start yelling, or dressing up our ideas so they stand out better?

Of course, we all think ‘our way’ is right and we’re the ones who should be heard. It’s just getting a little overwhelming, both in terms of volume and then what’s apparently ‘required’ to operate effectively in that space (Notes Two). And if this is information to live our lives by – knowledge, advice on well-being, awareness of current affairs – is it not also risky?

Who knows where the answer lies. Possibly with personal discernment in evaluating our own contributions. Maybe in disengaging slightly from channels offering little more than distraction. Perhaps by focussing in on what matters and shifting a calmer conversation to that place?

Notes and References:

Note 1: Seeing, knowing and loving
Note 1: Able to see what matters?
Note 1: Respect, rebellion & renovation
Note 1: What’s a reasonable response?
Note 2: Concerns over how we’re living
Note 2: The need for discernment
Note 2: Testing times

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Truth, illusion & cultural life

One of obviously many things I find both interesting and important is the ways in which culture blends into our personal and social realities: how stories told there often merge into our ideas of life, how to be or relate, the things we buy and lifestyles we seek to emulate. Through that, we’re seemingly seeking meaning in life through social participation, identity, and those cultural moments we’re choosing to align ourselves with.

In many ways, it’s beautiful. This dance we all do as humans? The ways we’re constantly watching what’s going on, deciding how we feel about it, then going out of our way to transform ourselves in the light of what we perceive as valuable or admirable. It’s amazing really, the creativity of the human mind in playing with all the visual markers thrown our way by cultural institutions (see Notes One).

That last sentence clearly twisted somewhere in the middle. Unintentionally, but sometimes my words take on a life of their own. There’s truth to it though, as I do feel our very human creative and social inclinations are being drawn into quite another world. Whether that’s intentional, and the degree to which it’s a healthy, fulfilling, constructive way of operating as a society is perhaps something only time will tell.

It seems to me that culture’s the place we weave our narratives around our lives. Narratives that sometimes pick up threads from the present or imagine threads from the past, pulling social or historical realities into this other realm to explore them further. Narratives that sometimes take themes or issues from our world then cast them in new lights, often in hypothetical or imaginary worlds that arrange our pieces in different ways.

Culture seems to have this wonderful way of rearranging things: bringing in fresh meaning through juxtaposition, through placing the familiar or unfamiliar in unusual relationship, drawing our inner world of connotations into strange or inspiring places. Now life’s happening on this global scale, there’s conceivably almost endless forms such activities could take by pulling in threads from every time and place (Notes Two).

But, with regard to reality, are we in danger of casting truth aside in preference for neater, more compelling or convenient narratives? History and society being complex, weighty and often dark, it may be appealing to simplify or offset that by re-working things to suit modern sensibilities or agendas. Within that, where does truth stand? Only by knowing the truth would we see the illusion.

If society’s something we have to understand, then filling our minds with potent yet unrealistic ideas could be seen as problematic (Notes Three). If we can grasp the ‘code’ – ways social realities are being represented, plus their true form – then presumably the reworkings of culture are without such great significance: we would see them for what they are.

As with anything, maybe the answer lies in our understanding? In knowing what we’re looking for, what we’re needing, and what it is that’s being offered through these channels.

Notes and References:

Note 1: Meaning in culture
Note 1: Cultural shifts & taking a backseat
Note 1: Revisiting the question of culture
Note 2: History’s role in modern culture
Note 2: Entertaining ideas & the matter of truth
Note 2: Will novelty ever wear off?
Note 3: Plato & “The Republic”
Note 3: Playing with fire?

Picking back up that earlier thought of humanity’s beautiful dance, there was The creativity of living.

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True words spoken in jest

It’s often easier to say things humorously. It’s a way of communicating that allows plausible deniability while testing the waters, so it’s potentially quite helpful in broaching difficult issues: letting you say things without actually saying them. As communication goes though, that’s clearly a little ambiguous. And where does it leave us in terms of the social atmosphere?

While not having investigated theories around humour’s social functions and inner workings, it seems to skirt close to the truth in order to be effective. Truthful observations can become more approachable, indirectly, in this way as it’s socially acceptable to laugh and bond with those around you in appreciating the unspoken intention of what’s being said.

That kind of subversion of words, context, meaning, and potentially provocative implications is an intriguing aspect of human community: that we would make fun of ourselves, laugh at the realities we’re finding ourselves within.

In terms of how we manage as a society when life is hard, generally humour and anger seem the responses we turn to (see Notes One). Of the two, humour’s clearly the more enjoyable, and possibly the approach more likely to unite us. Both, though, are emotional responses. Both create ripples within the social environment – something we then have to navigate more purposefully, perhaps.

After either moment’s passed, we presumably still need to be able to talk about things meaningfully? An over-reliance on humour could lead into perpetually silly conversations where everything’s deflected, nothings truly being said, and avenues for more direct engagement with our problems aren’t really emerging.

Leaving anger aside, humour seems to let us place things on the table and explore the emotion around that. Surely an important function? Of course, it doesn’t solve anything and likely doesn’t carry well when taken out of context; but as a way to check our understanding of life with others it’s seeming quite valuable.

I mean, if we were to use humour to reach out in this way; then were to use that initial feedback to develop more exploratory conversations around things we might not yet understand or appreciate, there’s real value there (Notes Two). From that first, tentative, light-hearted social reaction we could discern so much to then sensitively and thoughtfully unpack through conversation and self-reflection.

I’m aware of being both meta and idealistic here, but surely humour can serve as more than simply the escape of release? Handled as a starting point for something more, it could become a very effective springboard for addressing our plentiful struggles.

Because arguably we only know what we know; anything else is beyond that, laying out there in a space we’ve not yet encountered or explored (Notes Three). If we’re ever to expand our horizons then we need to be able to navigate that which we don’t know. Reaching out into those spaces, finding ways to understand and relate to the social significance of what’s there, might be slightly confounding.

Becoming more skilful communicators could be the most wonderful blessing, for us and others.

Notes and References:

Note 1: Anger as a voice
Note 1: We may as well laugh
Note 2: Apparent difficulty in finding a voice
Note 2: Tone in public dialogue
Note 2: Counselling, listening & social identity
Note 3: Is anything obvious to someone who doesn’t know?
Note 3: Seeing, knowing and loving

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Cost and convenience

We might talk of cost and convenience, but is it ever clear how those calculations are playing out? We might pay more for the convenience of locally available products, but what’s the ultimate cost of that consumer behaviour? We might celebrate low prices, but who’s actually paying the cost for them? It might be convenient and enjoyable to buy essentially disposable items, but what’s the real cost of doing so?

Presumably every item does have both a cost and a price for which it’s deemed worthwhile letting it go. Whether that price is a reflection of its true cost or more a calculation around the value of shifting the market in some way is another matter. Getting people used to convenience creates a demand, I suppose, while also driving out less well-stocked or competitively-priced alternatives.

As I’ve said before, I’m not an economist; but the way goods are being delivered, produced and priced conceivably affects us all in countless fundamentally important ways (see Note One). Afterall, we’re all now effectively plugged into the same system: methods of production, savings offered by shipping that elsewhere, and the related human or environmental costs all paint a picture on the global scale.

What if our “convenience” is coming at the cost of too much? Outsourcing commercial functions seems to often be taking advantage of other countries’ lower costs and/or relative environmental riches; possibly destroying the diversity of local activities while commodifying the lives and landscapes of those living there. We might dress that up as development, but it’s clearly reshaping many peoples’ livelihoods.

In terms of the longer-term outcomes of our relatively short-term consumer decisions, does this not raise a lot of questions? Why are we being encouraged to seek immediate satisfaction while disregarding the bigger picture? If our choices are destroying environments, communities and traditional industries while distorting markets so only the most ‘competitive’ survive, what future are we setting up?

We might enjoy the streams of novelty in all its forms, but surely there’s going to be very real costs to that? We’re generating an insane amount of waste on scales the world’s never before known. If we’re treating others unfairly, might there be justifiable backlash? Then, the psychological cost to keeping up with it all and filtering marketing chatter out of our visual, cultural and media channels. (Notes Two)

Of course, understanding the intricate inter-relationships of modern, global marketplaces is incredibly difficult. And, evidently, it’s a way of operating that’s fostered rapid progress and international cooperation across the field of human endeavour. I’m aware many people embrace that dynamic quality, praising how it’s freed us from past limitations and enabled vast leaps forward.

But still, at what cost? What exactly are we leaving behind us by living this way? Beyond the mountains of waste, relentless white-noise of advertising, strings of broken industries and lost richness of countries we’ve wrung dry for our own gain, what are we going to be left with? And, how might we be judged for that?

Notes and References:

For an interesting, insightful and very human perspective on this, see the documentary “Chris Packham: In Search of the Lost Girl” (BBC, UK), 2018.

Note 1: What is economical
Note 2: Waste and consumer choices
Note 2: Living in luxury, on what grounds?
Note 2: At what cost, for humans & for nature
Note 2: Will novelty ever wear off?

Approaching this from other angles, the insights of Schumacher and Huxley were considered in “Small is Beautiful” & “Brave New World Revisited”.

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Points of sale as powerful moments

In a way, markets can be seen as these nebulous, undefined, hypothetical spaces full of offerings, attempts to influence, and promises of how well our needs are going to be met. Until, that is, a decision is made and a deal’s been done. Then, things become very real.

It’s an interesting thought, I think. Clearly people invest a lot into that early phase: developing ideas; investigating how best to bring them to life; maybe setting up complex, international systems of production and distribution; looking at how to convince us to buy into things, what the right sales pitch might be etc. This vast system of inter-connected, mutually beneficial commercial activities that make up ‘the economy’.

And obviously it’s important stuff. It’s the kind of activity that gives rise to a need for workers to fulfil those functions; creating employment, revenue, and taxation streams that fund our individual requirements and collective infrastructures (see Notes One). Also, the same activity that’s giving rise to many of the ‘costs of living’ as we act in our capacity as consumers to choose from all that’s on offer (Notes Two).

Possibly a somewhat simplistic manhandling of complex economic realities, but it’ll probably suffice. Getting back to my point – how all that’s quite ‘imaginary’ until someone agrees to a transaction – there’s conceivably this sense in which everything hinges round our agreement. That’s the point where things get tangible as money changes hands, profit happens, and people potentially get used to things.

If we couldn’t be persuaded to buy, all that other stuff theoretically serves no purpose. It’s these moments of decision-making that make it something real, as individual and collective patterns of behaviour form these income streams around which everything else is built. Our points of commitment then becoming as these constellations of impending realities.

Why might that matter? Where within it all does power lie? Our lives clearly depend, in many ways, on what’s happening in the global marketplace: the stability of that world in turn becomes our stability, or otherwise. Yet it’s also very much dependent upon us, on our choices and the extent to which they can be anticipated, influenced, met, and possibly controlled (Notes Three).

Really, it must be a very integrated relationship. Our lives to such a great extent are defined, shaped, and assisted by economic realities. And the outworking of those realities generally revolves around the ins and outs of our lives. This complex, convoluted, contagious system of needs that’s serving us as much as the commercial entities effectively at the helm of it all.

That might be far too much to condense down into simplistic solutions for the state of modern society, but my essential point is that we’re the ones who decide. It’s something we, of course, tend to be aware of: keeping abreast of developments so as to make the most informed, intelligent decisions possible likely takes up a fair chunk of our free time. But I do wonder how consciously we evaluate all we’re agreeing to.

Notes and References:

Note 1: Obligations and contributions
Note 1: Business defining human life
Note 2: Tell me why I should
Note 2: Right to question and decide
Note 2: What we bring to life
Note 3: How we feel about society
Note 3: Cycles of mind & matter

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Smart to play the system?

As soon as anything’s written down it becomes possible to twist it one way or another, to play things to your advantage. It’s evident in so many areas of life; and perhaps unsurprisingly, given we’re trained to take sides then argue our corner (see Note One). But when we approach things seeking personal advantage, what’s the cost? What or who is losing out when we look only to ourselves?

I suppose what that’s coming down to is the spirit of things: the intention and purpose of any given arrangement; the assumptions around how things are taken, the attitudes we bring to the table. Any agreement, contract or policy must have a sense of what it’s hoping to achieve and the character of those entering into it. Surely there’s a backstory to all these things.

When we look only to what we can get, what we’re entitled to, maybe we’re missing the bigger picture in some way? Because society, effectively, is built up of agreements: some unspoken or implied, some commercial, some legal, some we consciously enter into, and some we might be almost completely unaware of (Notes Two). In a way, we’re all living within a variety of contracts.

And any contract generally offers those engaged with it entitlements, rights, responsibilities, and powers for redress. We’re offered something and give something in return. Presumably in a way that’s mutually beneficial: each party benefiting and the overall outcome being considered positive, despite any compromises or curtailments of a previously complete freedom.

Because any agreement likely does limit those involved by defining what will be done and conditions that must be met on either side. Boundaries effectively creating a space of engagement where something can be achieved; a sense of limitation offering power, as the gears within complex systems engage and make something greater possible (Note Three).

But what if we lose the sense of that? What if we start taking all we can, without regard for the original intention and spirit of what’s been made available. What if we stop holding up our end of the bargain quite so well, creating this counterweight of disharmony that pulls against it all. What if all the ‘stress’ of that ‘unfairness’ begins to cause us real problems?

It’s merely a train of thought, but raises some fundamentally important questions: if we don’t understand, appreciate and uphold the systems we’re engaged with, then what are we doing? And, beyond that, if we’re actively pulling against them, where does that lead? Not to say the West is perfect in terms of its ideas and their implementation, but the general intention behind it seems pretty admirable (Notes Four).

Maybe it’s seen as ‘intelligent’ to read situations and figure out how to work them to your advantage, but arguably the cost of that has to be born somehow. Whether in the form of systemic stress or carried by other individuals or commercial entities, the cost of imbalance falls somewhere. In that light, what are we actually risking here?

Notes and References:

Note 1: Pick a side, any side
Note 2: Laws and lawlessness
Note 2: People, rules & social cohesion
Note 2: What holds it all together
Note 3: Limits having a purpose
Note 4: Freedom, what to lean on & who to believe
Note 4: Dystopia as a powerful ideal

The thread of thinking here also dovetails quite well into Responsibility for shaping this reality.

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“Watership Down”

It was amusing a few years back when British TV broadcast “Watership Down” over the Easter weekend; as if ‘anything’ featuring animated rabbits was bound to go down well at that time of year. I’d imagine though that it’s one of those films many have accidentally watched, forgetting quite how powerfully dark it was. But, all that aside, both the book and film surely convey some pertinent lessons to keep in mind?

Ultimately, it’s a story about survival, safety and freedom. Also, the position of individuals within their social grouping and the consideration offered for their gifts and insights as much as their age and relative weight, socially or physically. Essentially, about power structures and how well they serve the preservation of society as a whole and the respectful inclusion of everyone.

This sense of understanding your wider reality, trusting your ability to read the signs or listen to gut instincts, must be key to the survival of any community? Whether we’re talking rabbits, local government or national policies, the need to picture how things fit together and anticipate likely outcomes seems fairly essential to long-term, sustainable futures (see Notes One).

Which is why it’s seeming such a wonderful book for the modern day: running through all these potential social, political, interpersonal scenarios whereby individual or collective survival might be threatened externally or by misguided, risky or repressive methods of organising our lives. This way in which the characters must evaluate potential solutions, using the insights of each one, in order to create the reality they dream of.

It’s also an interesting allegory in that Fiver, in particular, is able to sense the darker intentions surrounding them: ways human activity threatens their safety; ways their own social frameworks might render them passive, compliant or complicit; or ways danger might be used as a justification for oppression from within. As an exploration of the ‘realities’ of communities of individuals existing within the bigger picture of their environment it’s fairly comprehensive and insightful.

Yet, in all this, it somehow manages to remain impartial. Although there are political comparisons to be drawn, and a nod to spiritual or religious attitudes to life, it keeps apart from the more divisive labels of the human world to focus instead on underlying ‘truths’ such as freedom, trust, listening, respect, courage (Notes Two).

And, on a completely separate – though possibly not unrelated – note, there’s real familiarity with nature that stands out through details of landscape, flora and fauna. Deep understanding and empathy for lived realities of the animal world seems almost quaint now, but the idea of living sympathetically alongside nature, rather than seeing it only from our perspective, is surely important for us as much as for them? (Note Three)

With fiction, I’m generally wanting ‘value’ to being immersed in an imaginary world: that it’ll add to my understanding of life, giving insight that’ll help in grasping things more clearly so constructive paths can be found. In many ways, this offers a great example of that.

Notes and References:

“Watership Down” by Richard Adams, (Penguin Books/Kestrel Books, GB), 1972. Film version written, produced & directed by Martin Rosen (1978).

Note 1: The philosopher stance
Note 1: Complexity of life
Note 1: Dystopia as a powerful ideal
Note 2: How we feel about society
Note 2: Freedom, what to lean on & who to believe
Note 2: Counselling, listening & social identity
Note 3: Nature speaks in many ways, do we listen?

Alongside this, The idea of self reliance also picked away at the threads of self, community, and what we all bring to life.

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