The Politics of Managing Uncivil Change

The possibility of a backlash against mainstream politics in this coming election has raised the prospect of increased support for the British National Party (BNP), following on from its relative success in the 2009 European elections. This has led to questions about why someone would vote for a party that is so extreme in its rhetoric and policies.

The simple answer that people feel overwhelmed by migration is complicated by the Institute for Public Policy Research findings released this week that nine out of ten local authorities with the highest proportion of votes for the BNP have had lower than average levels of recent migrant settlement. Instead, the party, it seems, assumes greater legitimacy in areas where there are high levels of economic, social and political exclusion. In many ways, this is unsurprising. Whether living next door to a migrant or not, there has long been an association made between deprivation and increased expressions of racism, and the findings do not mean that those excluded do not blame migration for the conditions they find themselves in.

The findings could also be explained by another argument: that, rather than simply anti-immigration motives, a vote for the BNP is a response to ‘change fatigue’, that is, an acting out of frustration in the face of transformations over which we have no control. In so doing, an attempt is made to reclaim some sense of power. Managing change can be a stressful process as anyone who has moved house, changed jobs or ended a relationship knows. And in just forty years, powerful social and economic influences such as de-industrialisation and globalisation have radically changed British society. Exclusion and inequality have been exacerbated, and the gap between policy-makers and those impacted by their decisions increased by the influence of transnational organisations and failing democratic institutions within the UK.

As suburbs, economies and lifestyles visibly change we can reach the limits of things as usual. Collective norms are disrupted, for example, when industries die, when our streets change and we no longer recognise familiar patterns, be it respect or groceries on the shelf. Anomalies and contradictions in former routines and beliefs appear, unable to be classified or ignored, generating a sense of dissonance as a result. A process of grief, of adjustment to loss, can be evoked and an internal struggle in response to that loss follows. There is a search for stability as ‘the way things used to be’ and ‘the way things are now’ grate and jar against each other. As a result, for some, often communities or individuals already marginalised, low in resilience and with limited choice anyway, fatigue sets in and change meets the determination of our inherent desire for continuity of meaning and the predictability of life.

There is no handbook to manage this change, until the BNP, or parties like it, proffer one in the form of a cultural identity: historically questionable on closer inspection, a bit blurry around the edges perhaps, but an offer of fundamental certainty nevertheless with all the privileges that bestows for the ‘indigenous’ Briton. With this cultural identity, and its vociferous, impossible attempts to define Britishness, comes order and place, geographically and temporally. Britons have a past, some 7000 years of it according to the BNP, and will have a future.

Current official policies of social cohesion do little to address that defensive position because of the lack of recognition of its connection to exclusion and the struggle for some degree of control over the direction of change, leaving the way open for the BNP to manipulate fears. Word of caution, then. Attacks against the BNP as simply racist thugs without acknowledging the excluded reality of its supporters could possibly increase its vote. People ticking that box on May 6th may be afraid for the future, or tired of feeling they are always at the wrong end of other people’s decisions. The BNP then becomes a surrogate form of change management if other more civil means are not found.

New Maps

Just caught part of the Leaders Debate in the UK (we have an election on May 6th for those of you not in the neighbourhood). The theme was meant to be international relations. We had a lot on Europe, a bit on the USA and Afghanistan, nothing on the Middle East (except for references to Iran and its nuclear programme as a justification for the UK government spending £100 billion on nuclear submarines), nothing on Israel's nuclear programme, nothing on Palestine, nothing on China, ASEAN, or India. Asia fell off the map.

Everything I've Ever Needed to Know I've Learnt from Climbing Up Things: Commandment III

Thou shalt accept that things will go wrong so just deal with it.

There is a time in every traveller’s life when they will have a shocker. Can’t be helped, it’s inevitable, usually brought on by weather (see Commandment Seven) or other people (see Commandment Five). Apart from weather, people and altitude, there are other hazards that require some caution, like village dogs. Cycling through the Tibetan Himalayas, mastifs litter the road side, sleeping, and are best left to lie unless the thought of rabies injections is something that appeals to you. My closest encounter came in a village when, finally giving into irritation at yet another attempt by kids to see what would happen to the funny looking foreigner if they put a stick through my wheels, I had an attack of PUTA. PUTA, better known as a dummy spit when cultural difference gets too much for frail Western temperaments, stands for Psychologically Unfit to Travel in Asia. Surprisingly, this is an actual medical condition noted in World Expedition's handy medical manual. My PUTA led to kids screaming which woke drooling mastifs, who saw my plump legs. My screaming alerted the village elders who yelled at the children to rescue me. Arms, legs, language, rocks and dog fur flew through the air. Here endeth the lesson.