Another week, another new Number One! On October 1, 1983, "Total Eclipse of the Heart" (above) by Welsh singer Bonny Tyler became Number One for four weeks, only missing out being Number One for the entire month of October by one week. The song, Tyler’s most successful single, was the first single from her fifth studio album, Faster Than the Speed of Night. The album was produced by Jim Steinman, who also wrote "Total Eclipse of the Heart", something I didn’t know at the time, but that was really obvious once I found it out. Steinman is often associated with Meat Loaf (especially his ”Bat Out Of Hell” album), though he wrote or produced a lot more.
The music video for "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was directed by Australian film director Russell Mulcahy, and I remember I thought it was, um, interesting. Set in a boys’ boarding school, and with supernatural overtones, helped by the gothic building it was set in, it was visually interesting, but I also thought it was a little creepy because there seemed to be a sexual undercurrent to Tyler’s performance. The video was nominated for two Billboard Video Music Awards in 1983, including for “Most Effective Use of Symbolism”. So… maybe I just didn’t get it?
The video was filmed at Holloway Sanitarium, a Victorian former private mental hospital near Virginia Water in Surrey, England. The hospital was closed in 1980, and pretty much left abandoned, before a private developer turned the facility, including the heritage-listed main building used in the video, into a private residential development known as Virginia Park.
I liked the song at the time (and still do), though many of the song’s Jim Steinman wrote can be exhausting to listen to—which could actually be why I liked this and other songs by Steinman. At any rate, I never bought this album, and, in fact, the only album of Tyler’s I ever bought was her second studio album, called It's a Heartache in the USA (the 1978 album’s original name was Natural Force), and I bought it because of the 1977 hit single ”It's a Heartache”.
"Total Eclipse of the Heart" reached Number 1 in all the countries I write about: Australia (4x Platinum), Canada (Platinum), New Zealand, the UK (Platinum), and on both the USA’s “Billboard Hot 100” and Cash Box “Top 100”. The song was Platinum in the USA.
The album, Faster Than the Speed of Night debuted at Number One on the UK album chart, the first by a British female artist to do so. Since I mentioned that, I may as well include the album's chart performance in other countries, too: It reached Number 3 in Australia, 6 in Canada (2x Platinum), Number One in New Zealand (Gold), Number One in the UK (Silver), and 4 on the USA’s “Billboard 200” and 3 on Cash Box. The album was certified Platinum in the USA.
The next Number One Song in 1983 reached that mark on October 29, 1983, but I may have another post about “also released” songs of 1983 before that date this year.
Previously in the “Weekend Diversion – 1983” series:
Weekend Diversion: 1983, Part 1
Weekend Diversion: 1983, Part 2
Weekend Diversion: 1983, Part 3
Weekend Diversion: 1983, Part 4
Weekend Diversion: 1983, Part 5
Weekend Diversion: 1983, Part 6
Weekend Diversion: 1983, Part 7
Weekend Diversion: 1983 – And also
Weekend Diversion: 1983 – And also more
Weekend Diversion: 1983, Part 8
Weekend Diversion: 1983, Part 9
Weekend Diversion: 1983, Part 10
Showing posts with label United Kingdom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label United Kingdom. Show all posts
Sunday, October 01, 2023
Wednesday, May 10, 2023
Crowning glory
This past weekend, King Charles was coronated as king. Some people loved it, others hated it, but a huge number were indifferent. Amid all the pomp and over-the-top showiness, questions were raised by the event: Was such an extravagant show a good idea in difficult times? Does the monarchy itself even matter anymore? Could this be the last coronation?
The last question—could this be the last coronation?—is part of why I watched. What if it is? I’d have missed my only chance to see such a spectacle live, and I wasn’t having that!
As it happens, I enjoyed the spectacle, in all it anachronistic, gaudy, pretentiousness: It was fun. There are a lot of “WTF?” moments for me, including the “anointing with oil” part, which I thought was weird itself, but the BBC commentator dutifully told us that the King was then wearing a “super tunica” (or some such—I didn’t see it in print; also, our two free-to-air TV channels carried the BBC coverage live). A few moments later, we were informed that some people we could see onscreen were “The worshipful company of girdlers”. I quite literally laughed out loud.
As the coverage began to wind up, I made a comment on my personal Facebook that was what’s now my seldom-expressed, but honestly held opinion—in this case about the whole show:
Those are actually mere quibbles. It’s a British thing, they can do what they want with it. Those of us who are secular can freely ignore and not participate in the expressly religious things. The issues are FAR bigger than that: What possible relevance does the coronation have in modern times? Much was made about how it’s been carried on for a thousand years, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t changed, most notably when Henry VIII came along and dumped the Roman Catholic church, and the coronations then became Anglican services.
In the first couple days after the coronation, I saw a few people making a passionate defence of the monarchy, but the loudest commentary I encountered came from those appalled at the cost of the whole thing, and that UK taxpayers would be paying for much of it. When poverty has soared, and even middle class Britons are struggling, some felt it was unwise to spend so much money on a spectacle. The late Queen’s coronation was only a few years after the end of World War Two, when recovery—especially economic recovery—was still not done. Few would dispute, though, that Britons needed and welcomed the distraction. But now? I’m not sure.
Of course, that’s easy for me to say: New Zealand taxpayers paid very little for anything related to the coronation, and most of our money was spent to pay for New Zealand’s delegation attending the coronation, along with some minor things here in New Zealand, like gun salutes. NZ taxpayers got off very, very lightly compared to taxpayers in the UK.
Still, I was absolutely fascinated by the odd traditions and trappings (so many swords and staffs were used!), but I didn’t relate to it in any meaningful way. In fact, what I actually enjoyed the most was watching Queen Camilla: She often had a small, seemingly wry, smile on her face, as if she was thinking about how utterly absurd so much of the hoopla was. To me, she—and Prince William giving his father a kiss—were the most real and genuine moments. The rest? Interesting, but, for me, that’s about it.
I have no idea whether there’ll ever be another coronation (or maybe just in my lifetime), nor how long the monarchy will endure. For me, watching the coronation wasn’t about any of that, though the possibility that one or both might end during my lifetime gave me a particular determination to watch the coronation coverage. Life is so utterly unpredictable—in fact, at one point in the days before the event I was thinking how I could die before the coronation and miss it and the opportunity I was looking forward to. Fortunately, a premature exit was not to be my fate last week, so it now doesn’t matter if I ever see another coronation—I consider it checked off my “bucket list”.
As for all the other issues raised—about the monarchy itself, the cost, or even the worthiness of Charles and/or Camilla personally, everyone else can (and certainly will…) argue about all that. Someday, I may even join the discussion. However, for me, and at this particular time, the whole thing was only about the opportunity to watch an historic event for the first, and possibly last, time in my life. Others can do, say, or think whatever they want, obviously, but for me the opportunity to watch an historic event was—unapologetically—the whole point of it for me. Anyone who knows me also knows that I’ve had this same motivation repeatedly throughout my life, and, hopefully, I always will.
On Monday our time, I watched the Coronation Concert at Windsor Castle. I enjoyed it, I suppose—I’m always a bit indifferent about all such shows. And this was no different. But I was struck by something: The extent to which there was the attempt to humanise Charles—or maybe to reintroduce him to the rest of us. But that feeling started the day before the coronation.
On Friday evening, TVNZ’s TV One normally broadcasts the BBC progreamme, The Repair Shop, which I wrote about last December. A factoid that didn’t make it into the post was that King Charles appeared in an episode filmed in 2021, before the Queen died, and while Charles was still the Prince of Wales (the episode first aired in the UK in October of last year). I’ve never seen Charles look so, well, ordinary before. The point of the episode was to celebrate the BBC’s 100th Anniversary and to highlight training young people in sometimes ancient trades that are still needed (especially in a country with so many historic buildings and relics), and the skills shortages are growing. One of the then-prince’s projects was essentially a training school for those skills
In the episode, two treasures were brought to The Repair Shop, and one of the graduates from the then-Prince’s programme came there, too, to do some blacksmithing work. Also, clock repairer Steve Fletcher brought in his 21-year-old son, Fred, who is a clockmaker apprentice working for his dad (Steve, meanwhile, posted clips from the episode to his Instagram Stories). The then-prince then visited The Repair Shop to see the repaired/restored pieces, and first was shown the various craftspeople, and how they’re keeping the skills alive. Host Jav Blades touched the Prince a few times, which I—knowing that Charles is now King—was at first aghast at (no one ever touched the Queen). But, then, he wasn’t King at the time, and their interaction seemed quite natural and appropriate.
Similarly, during the concert, there were breaks where various people talked about some of the work that the King had done during his life, and included some “did you know” type things. Some of the things they highlighted didn’t necessarily know, and while nothing was memorable for me personally, it all kind of contributed to a quite different image of him than I had in my head, which was probably the point.
Add it all together, and I came away from the events with a feeling that Charles just might succeed in modernising and humanising the monarchy, probably in ways that his mother—the product of very, very different times—wouldn’t have been able to do. I guess we’ll all find out in time.
As for the larger issues that people seem to want to talk about, like republicanism, that’s too big a topic for this post. I merely wanted to reflect on what I experienced watching something I’d never seen before. But I’ll certainly return to those larger topics, because there definitely are things to talk about. However, since I entered the whole thing with one goal—to watch an historic event I may never see again—I got what I wanted out of it.
And no, I didn’t take part in “the people’s homage”. At least I’m consistent.
The last question—could this be the last coronation?—is part of why I watched. What if it is? I’d have missed my only chance to see such a spectacle live, and I wasn’t having that!
As it happens, I enjoyed the spectacle, in all it anachronistic, gaudy, pretentiousness: It was fun. There are a lot of “WTF?” moments for me, including the “anointing with oil” part, which I thought was weird itself, but the BBC commentator dutifully told us that the King was then wearing a “super tunica” (or some such—I didn’t see it in print; also, our two free-to-air TV channels carried the BBC coverage live). A few moments later, we were informed that some people we could see onscreen were “The worshipful company of girdlers”. I quite literally laughed out loud.
As the coverage began to wind up, I made a comment on my personal Facebook that was what’s now my seldom-expressed, but honestly held opinion—in this case about the whole show:
I think the religious trappings are, at best, a throwback, a quaint, antique anachronism. Having said that, can the millennium-old ceremony even exist without overt promotion of the Anglican religion? If the UK Parliament dis-established the Anglican Church, how would that affect the monarchy? Would it, perhaps, end up making the modern monarchy MORE relevant?I’ve said many times (including last week, when I talked about watching the ceremony) how much I dislike overt religiosity, especially relating to only one religion, in any governmental function. The coronation, however, is not that: It’s an expressly religious anointing of the monarch as a servant of the Anglican god. The public functions were carried out immediately after the Queen died and Charles was proclaimed King—although the phrase “God save the King” was repeated over and over again, and the UK National Anthem asks that “God save our noble King”, so even in ostensibly secular settings religion is present.
Neither the monarchy, nor even democracy, are guaranteed. We, the people, choose what we have. We must chose carefully.
Those are actually mere quibbles. It’s a British thing, they can do what they want with it. Those of us who are secular can freely ignore and not participate in the expressly religious things. The issues are FAR bigger than that: What possible relevance does the coronation have in modern times? Much was made about how it’s been carried on for a thousand years, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t changed, most notably when Henry VIII came along and dumped the Roman Catholic church, and the coronations then became Anglican services.
In the first couple days after the coronation, I saw a few people making a passionate defence of the monarchy, but the loudest commentary I encountered came from those appalled at the cost of the whole thing, and that UK taxpayers would be paying for much of it. When poverty has soared, and even middle class Britons are struggling, some felt it was unwise to spend so much money on a spectacle. The late Queen’s coronation was only a few years after the end of World War Two, when recovery—especially economic recovery—was still not done. Few would dispute, though, that Britons needed and welcomed the distraction. But now? I’m not sure.
Of course, that’s easy for me to say: New Zealand taxpayers paid very little for anything related to the coronation, and most of our money was spent to pay for New Zealand’s delegation attending the coronation, along with some minor things here in New Zealand, like gun salutes. NZ taxpayers got off very, very lightly compared to taxpayers in the UK.
Still, I was absolutely fascinated by the odd traditions and trappings (so many swords and staffs were used!), but I didn’t relate to it in any meaningful way. In fact, what I actually enjoyed the most was watching Queen Camilla: She often had a small, seemingly wry, smile on her face, as if she was thinking about how utterly absurd so much of the hoopla was. To me, she—and Prince William giving his father a kiss—were the most real and genuine moments. The rest? Interesting, but, for me, that’s about it.
I have no idea whether there’ll ever be another coronation (or maybe just in my lifetime), nor how long the monarchy will endure. For me, watching the coronation wasn’t about any of that, though the possibility that one or both might end during my lifetime gave me a particular determination to watch the coronation coverage. Life is so utterly unpredictable—in fact, at one point in the days before the event I was thinking how I could die before the coronation and miss it and the opportunity I was looking forward to. Fortunately, a premature exit was not to be my fate last week, so it now doesn’t matter if I ever see another coronation—I consider it checked off my “bucket list”.
As for all the other issues raised—about the monarchy itself, the cost, or even the worthiness of Charles and/or Camilla personally, everyone else can (and certainly will…) argue about all that. Someday, I may even join the discussion. However, for me, and at this particular time, the whole thing was only about the opportunity to watch an historic event for the first, and possibly last, time in my life. Others can do, say, or think whatever they want, obviously, but for me the opportunity to watch an historic event was—unapologetically—the whole point of it for me. Anyone who knows me also knows that I’ve had this same motivation repeatedly throughout my life, and, hopefully, I always will.
On Monday our time, I watched the Coronation Concert at Windsor Castle. I enjoyed it, I suppose—I’m always a bit indifferent about all such shows. And this was no different. But I was struck by something: The extent to which there was the attempt to humanise Charles—or maybe to reintroduce him to the rest of us. But that feeling started the day before the coronation.
On Friday evening, TVNZ’s TV One normally broadcasts the BBC progreamme, The Repair Shop, which I wrote about last December. A factoid that didn’t make it into the post was that King Charles appeared in an episode filmed in 2021, before the Queen died, and while Charles was still the Prince of Wales (the episode first aired in the UK in October of last year). I’ve never seen Charles look so, well, ordinary before. The point of the episode was to celebrate the BBC’s 100th Anniversary and to highlight training young people in sometimes ancient trades that are still needed (especially in a country with so many historic buildings and relics), and the skills shortages are growing. One of the then-prince’s projects was essentially a training school for those skills
In the episode, two treasures were brought to The Repair Shop, and one of the graduates from the then-Prince’s programme came there, too, to do some blacksmithing work. Also, clock repairer Steve Fletcher brought in his 21-year-old son, Fred, who is a clockmaker apprentice working for his dad (Steve, meanwhile, posted clips from the episode to his Instagram Stories). The then-prince then visited The Repair Shop to see the repaired/restored pieces, and first was shown the various craftspeople, and how they’re keeping the skills alive. Host Jav Blades touched the Prince a few times, which I—knowing that Charles is now King—was at first aghast at (no one ever touched the Queen). But, then, he wasn’t King at the time, and their interaction seemed quite natural and appropriate.
Similarly, during the concert, there were breaks where various people talked about some of the work that the King had done during his life, and included some “did you know” type things. Some of the things they highlighted didn’t necessarily know, and while nothing was memorable for me personally, it all kind of contributed to a quite different image of him than I had in my head, which was probably the point.
Add it all together, and I came away from the events with a feeling that Charles just might succeed in modernising and humanising the monarchy, probably in ways that his mother—the product of very, very different times—wouldn’t have been able to do. I guess we’ll all find out in time.
As for the larger issues that people seem to want to talk about, like republicanism, that’s too big a topic for this post. I merely wanted to reflect on what I experienced watching something I’d never seen before. But I’ll certainly return to those larger topics, because there definitely are things to talk about. However, since I entered the whole thing with one goal—to watch an historic event I may never see again—I got what I wanted out of it.
And no, I didn’t take part in “the people’s homage”. At least I’m consistent.
Thursday, May 04, 2023
I’ll watch the crowning
This coming Saturday, King Charles the III will be crowned as King of New Zealand (and some other places). I certainly don’t care what others will do, but I’ll be watching it on television. I have a very simple reason: It’s historic.
The TV coverage I’ll be watching begins at 7pm NZST Saturday evening. I assumed that because of the way such things usually go, there’d be many hours of blather until the actual event. Today I realised I should actually look that up.
It turns out that the coronation itself is scheduled for 11am London Time, which is 10pm New Zealand time—and not the wee small hours of the morning our time, as I’d assumed. I take this as a win: I don’t have to stay up later than I normally would (which is still later that many people I know).
I can’t recall hearing anyone tell me they plan to watch the coronation, but I’ve heard a few saying they won’t—some fairly adamant about it, too. I don’t personally care what others do or don’t do, as always, however, I’ve come to care a little bit about explaining why I’ll be watching. Good thing I have a blog, then.
I am, as I’ve said many times, a republican (lower case “r” only, thank you very much), and while I’m not exactly a fan of the institution or the new king, that doesn’t mean I’m opposed to either one. I still believe that New Zealand will become a republic some day, but it’s certainly not something I’d personally lobby for or work toward. I am, in a sense, more indifferent than anything.
Be that as it may, every coronation of a new monarch is an historic event. I’ve seen footage of the late Queen’s coronation, and of some of her predecessors, as well as paintings of others from throughout Europe. I’ve never seen a coronation live before, and there’s no way of knowing whether I ever will again: There’s no way I’d miss this opportunity.
This comes naturally for me: My minor at university was history, and it’s a subject I’ve always loved and been fascinated by. In fact, there were times I wish I’d double-majored in political science and history (I didn’t mainly because it would’ve extended my time at university, and I was eager to start doing life). This lifelong fascination and interest in history has led me to watch all sorts of historic events live.
Some of those events also had other things going on for me. For example, I watched the Queen’s funeral because, like a lot of people, I respected her, and I was sad when she died. I watched her funeral as a mark of respect every bit as much as because it was an historic event. Even so, the vast majority of historic events I watch don’t have any emotional tone to them, and the coronation will be one of those.
Watching the coronation will also be a kind of logical progression for me: I watched then-Prince Charles’ investiture as Prince of Wales on July 1, 1969 (this merely gave him the traditional title; he was already the “heir apparent”). Back then, I had no feelings one way or the other about the monarchy (I was ten, after all…), but I was fascinated by all the pomp and circumstance. That was pretty much how I felt all the years afterward.
For several years, and especially after the death of Charles’ first wife, Princess Diana, there was a commonly expressed opinion that New Zealand might become a republic when the Queen died. People’s reasons for thinking that varied, but mainly centred on the view that the respect/affection was for the Queen personally, not the institution, and that people didn’t much like Charles. In fact, I remember a lot of people expressing hope that Charles would abdicate in favour of William.
These days, Britons’ support for the monarchy is clearly declining, and the same thing is happening—slowly—in New Zealand. In September of last year, , shortly after the Queen’s death, 1News released a poll. It found that 50% of New Zealanders wanted to retain the monarchy, and 27% wanted to abolish it, which was a slight improvement for the monarchy from the previous November, and that improvement was certainly affected by the death of the Queen. Overall, support for the monarchy is likely to have a plurality of support, though not majority support, for awhile yet.
What all of this means is that the institution of the monarchy will be around for for some time. This is a good thing because the Reserve Bank of New Zealand has a stockpile of currency with the Queen’s portrait and won’t replace it until the end of its useful life. That “would be wasteful and poor environmental practice,” they said. The environmentalist King and his heir apparent no doubt approve of this decision.
I’d thought about making Coronation Chicken (just for fun, though I like the recipe Nigel used), and certainly not “The King and The Queen Consort's Coronation Quiche” [WATCH], which frankly doesn’t sound very nice. We’ll see.
There’s one more thing I absolutely won’t be doing: I will not take part in the "homage of the people," an oath of allegiance to the King—been there, done that. When I became a New Zealand Citizen in 2010, I was required to state that I “solemnly, sincerely, and truly declare and affirm that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, Her heirs and successors, according to law.” When the Queen died, the “heirs and successors” part kicked in, and the “true allegiance” automatically transferred to Charles, just as it may one day automatically transfer to William (depending on a lot of variables). So, I consider myself to be automatically exempt.
There’s a more serious reason I wouldn’t do the "homage of the people": The wording. People becoming citizens of New Zealand have the option of swearing an oath (like the “homage”) or making an affirmation. The difference is that an oath ends with “So help me God”, just as the NZ Citizenship and parliamentary oaths do. The affirmations, however, are secular—no deities mentioned—and that’s precisely why I chose the affirmation when I became a citizen. As I’ve said many times, I believe that appeals to one religion’s deity is never appropriate for a purely secular purpose. The fact that the king is also “defender of the faith” for England’s official religion is irrelevant for non-English people and non-Anglicans of whatever description (something, by the way, that the king seems to essentially agree with, though possibly/probably not necessarily in quite those terms). So, if I wouldn’t make a religious-based oath to the queen, I certainly ain’t about to do it for the first of her “heirs and successors according to law”. Besides, the old one was transferrable. Again, though, I couldn’t possibly care less what other people choose to do—or not do.
So, I’ll be watching the broadcast of the coronation as a witness to history. I won’t be taking part in any of the hoopla surrounding the event, which isn't unusual. What choices others make is entirely up to them. This has merely been about my choices, and why I made them. Pretty much like every other post about the choices I make. Good thing I have a blog.
The TV coverage I’ll be watching begins at 7pm NZST Saturday evening. I assumed that because of the way such things usually go, there’d be many hours of blather until the actual event. Today I realised I should actually look that up.
It turns out that the coronation itself is scheduled for 11am London Time, which is 10pm New Zealand time—and not the wee small hours of the morning our time, as I’d assumed. I take this as a win: I don’t have to stay up later than I normally would (which is still later that many people I know).
I can’t recall hearing anyone tell me they plan to watch the coronation, but I’ve heard a few saying they won’t—some fairly adamant about it, too. I don’t personally care what others do or don’t do, as always, however, I’ve come to care a little bit about explaining why I’ll be watching. Good thing I have a blog, then.
I am, as I’ve said many times, a republican (lower case “r” only, thank you very much), and while I’m not exactly a fan of the institution or the new king, that doesn’t mean I’m opposed to either one. I still believe that New Zealand will become a republic some day, but it’s certainly not something I’d personally lobby for or work toward. I am, in a sense, more indifferent than anything.
Be that as it may, every coronation of a new monarch is an historic event. I’ve seen footage of the late Queen’s coronation, and of some of her predecessors, as well as paintings of others from throughout Europe. I’ve never seen a coronation live before, and there’s no way of knowing whether I ever will again: There’s no way I’d miss this opportunity.
This comes naturally for me: My minor at university was history, and it’s a subject I’ve always loved and been fascinated by. In fact, there were times I wish I’d double-majored in political science and history (I didn’t mainly because it would’ve extended my time at university, and I was eager to start doing life). This lifelong fascination and interest in history has led me to watch all sorts of historic events live.
Some of those events also had other things going on for me. For example, I watched the Queen’s funeral because, like a lot of people, I respected her, and I was sad when she died. I watched her funeral as a mark of respect every bit as much as because it was an historic event. Even so, the vast majority of historic events I watch don’t have any emotional tone to them, and the coronation will be one of those.
Watching the coronation will also be a kind of logical progression for me: I watched then-Prince Charles’ investiture as Prince of Wales on July 1, 1969 (this merely gave him the traditional title; he was already the “heir apparent”). Back then, I had no feelings one way or the other about the monarchy (I was ten, after all…), but I was fascinated by all the pomp and circumstance. That was pretty much how I felt all the years afterward.
For several years, and especially after the death of Charles’ first wife, Princess Diana, there was a commonly expressed opinion that New Zealand might become a republic when the Queen died. People’s reasons for thinking that varied, but mainly centred on the view that the respect/affection was for the Queen personally, not the institution, and that people didn’t much like Charles. In fact, I remember a lot of people expressing hope that Charles would abdicate in favour of William.
These days, Britons’ support for the monarchy is clearly declining, and the same thing is happening—slowly—in New Zealand. In September of last year, , shortly after the Queen’s death, 1News released a poll. It found that 50% of New Zealanders wanted to retain the monarchy, and 27% wanted to abolish it, which was a slight improvement for the monarchy from the previous November, and that improvement was certainly affected by the death of the Queen. Overall, support for the monarchy is likely to have a plurality of support, though not majority support, for awhile yet.
What all of this means is that the institution of the monarchy will be around for for some time. This is a good thing because the Reserve Bank of New Zealand has a stockpile of currency with the Queen’s portrait and won’t replace it until the end of its useful life. That “would be wasteful and poor environmental practice,” they said. The environmentalist King and his heir apparent no doubt approve of this decision.
I’d thought about making Coronation Chicken (just for fun, though I like the recipe Nigel used), and certainly not “The King and The Queen Consort's Coronation Quiche” [WATCH], which frankly doesn’t sound very nice. We’ll see.
There’s one more thing I absolutely won’t be doing: I will not take part in the "homage of the people," an oath of allegiance to the King—been there, done that. When I became a New Zealand Citizen in 2010, I was required to state that I “solemnly, sincerely, and truly declare and affirm that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, Her heirs and successors, according to law.” When the Queen died, the “heirs and successors” part kicked in, and the “true allegiance” automatically transferred to Charles, just as it may one day automatically transfer to William (depending on a lot of variables). So, I consider myself to be automatically exempt.
There’s a more serious reason I wouldn’t do the "homage of the people": The wording. People becoming citizens of New Zealand have the option of swearing an oath (like the “homage”) or making an affirmation. The difference is that an oath ends with “So help me God”, just as the NZ Citizenship and parliamentary oaths do. The affirmations, however, are secular—no deities mentioned—and that’s precisely why I chose the affirmation when I became a citizen. As I’ve said many times, I believe that appeals to one religion’s deity is never appropriate for a purely secular purpose. The fact that the king is also “defender of the faith” for England’s official religion is irrelevant for non-English people and non-Anglicans of whatever description (something, by the way, that the king seems to essentially agree with, though possibly/probably not necessarily in quite those terms). So, if I wouldn’t make a religious-based oath to the queen, I certainly ain’t about to do it for the first of her “heirs and successors according to law”. Besides, the old one was transferrable. Again, though, I couldn’t possibly care less what other people choose to do—or not do.
So, I’ll be watching the broadcast of the coronation as a witness to history. I won’t be taking part in any of the hoopla surrounding the event, which isn't unusual. What choices others make is entirely up to them. This has merely been about my choices, and why I made them. Pretty much like every other post about the choices I make. Good thing I have a blog.
Tuesday, May 02, 2023
AmeriNZ Podcast episode 381 is now available
The five most recent episodes of the podcast are listed on the sidebar on the right side of this blog.
Friday, December 30, 2022
The shop repairing stories
I talk a lot about stories because I believe it’s the thing that most sets us apart from our fellow animals—as far as we know, anyway. Everything we do, say, think, imagine, all of it, is related to our own stories, the stories of others, and/or how they intersect. Even objects in our life relate to our stories, and that’s at the centre of one of my favourite television shows.
I began watching the BBC television series The Repair Shop from its first broadcast in New Zealand. I don’t remember precisely when that was, but shows began airing in the UK in March 2017, and there’s always been quite a delay before they get to New Zealand. For example, the episode that aired tonight was broadcast in the UK on April 2, 2021—around 20 months before New Zealand. At any rate, though, I know that the show began airing in New Zealand before Nigel died.
Each episode centres on expert craftspeople repairing/restoring family heirlooms that are damaged for whatever reason. I was originally drawn into the show because I was fascinated by the work the craftspeople did and the results they achieved. I was particularly interested in the woodworking repairs, and enjoyed watching master craftsman Will Kirk, who, to be fair, I also rather fancied. Mainly, though, I enjoyed seeing some techniques I wasn’t familiar with.
Similarly, I was drawn to the work of the other master craftspeople, and was frequently surprised by how much work went into seemingly small things—except, of course, they were all committed to doing the job right, and not just quickly or to a minimum standard.
This continued for the first couple years or so, and then recently I was struck by something: The items being brought in often had little or no monetary value, but to their owners they often had value that was beyond measure. There were childhood toys that had survived the London Blitz, items that people smuggled out of Europe as they fled the Nazis, the only item a family has from a great great grandfather, and so on. Many of the items and the stories around them are interesting in themselves, but the depth of meaning the items carried for some of theirowners caretakers was utterly astounding.
There were episodes in which my cheeks were constantly wet watching the reveal segments, and ordinarily I’d make a joke at my own expense, laughing at how sometimes I get all teary-eyed watching a commercial. While that’s true, it’s also dismissive of the very real feelings, my own and the folks for whom the objects meant so much.
This is what led me to yet another bloody obvious realisation: The objects mattered precisely because of the stories they carried, and the meaning they wore. Watching the master craftspeople work their magic on the items is endlessly fascinating to me, but watching the repair and saving of the stories attached to those items, that matters far more.
The show was overseen by the BBC’s head of daytime and early peak television, New Zealander Carla-Maria Lawson. In an interview with RNZ, for whom she worked as chief reporter before moving to the UK more than two decades ago, she said, "People need that sense of positivity and recognition of people doing something lovely. It features people doing something for little reward.” Exactly. And the resons she thought it would work are the same things that appeal to me—and so many others, too.
I believe that everything we do, say, think, imagine, all of it, is related to our own stories and possibly the stories of others. Any TV show that enhances and protects those stories is likely to be a winner with me, and The Repair Shop certainly is.
The trailer for the show is the video up top, and video excerpts from various episodes are on their YouTube Channel.
I began watching the BBC television series The Repair Shop from its first broadcast in New Zealand. I don’t remember precisely when that was, but shows began airing in the UK in March 2017, and there’s always been quite a delay before they get to New Zealand. For example, the episode that aired tonight was broadcast in the UK on April 2, 2021—around 20 months before New Zealand. At any rate, though, I know that the show began airing in New Zealand before Nigel died.
Each episode centres on expert craftspeople repairing/restoring family heirlooms that are damaged for whatever reason. I was originally drawn into the show because I was fascinated by the work the craftspeople did and the results they achieved. I was particularly interested in the woodworking repairs, and enjoyed watching master craftsman Will Kirk, who, to be fair, I also rather fancied. Mainly, though, I enjoyed seeing some techniques I wasn’t familiar with.
Similarly, I was drawn to the work of the other master craftspeople, and was frequently surprised by how much work went into seemingly small things—except, of course, they were all committed to doing the job right, and not just quickly or to a minimum standard.
This continued for the first couple years or so, and then recently I was struck by something: The items being brought in often had little or no monetary value, but to their owners they often had value that was beyond measure. There were childhood toys that had survived the London Blitz, items that people smuggled out of Europe as they fled the Nazis, the only item a family has from a great great grandfather, and so on. Many of the items and the stories around them are interesting in themselves, but the depth of meaning the items carried for some of their
There were episodes in which my cheeks were constantly wet watching the reveal segments, and ordinarily I’d make a joke at my own expense, laughing at how sometimes I get all teary-eyed watching a commercial. While that’s true, it’s also dismissive of the very real feelings, my own and the folks for whom the objects meant so much.
This is what led me to yet another bloody obvious realisation: The objects mattered precisely because of the stories they carried, and the meaning they wore. Watching the master craftspeople work their magic on the items is endlessly fascinating to me, but watching the repair and saving of the stories attached to those items, that matters far more.
The show was overseen by the BBC’s head of daytime and early peak television, New Zealander Carla-Maria Lawson. In an interview with RNZ, for whom she worked as chief reporter before moving to the UK more than two decades ago, she said, "People need that sense of positivity and recognition of people doing something lovely. It features people doing something for little reward.” Exactly. And the resons she thought it would work are the same things that appeal to me—and so many others, too.
I believe that everything we do, say, think, imagine, all of it, is related to our own stories and possibly the stories of others. Any TV show that enhances and protects those stories is likely to be a winner with me, and The Repair Shop certainly is.
The trailer for the show is the video up top, and video excerpts from various episodes are on their YouTube Channel.
Tuesday, September 27, 2022
Queen Elizabeth II Memorial Day
Yesterday was a special one-off holiday, Queen Elizabeth II Memorial Day, New Zealand’s official day of remembrance for the late Queen of New Zealand. There was a national service in Wellington (video above), but, if we’re honest, for most New Zealanders, it was an unplanned day off—and the final day of an unexpected three-day weekend.
While this is the first time most workers have experienced the death of their monarch, Commonwealth Realms faced opposition to a day off. Australia declared a holiday (held September 22) not long after the Queen died, but republicans opposed it, as did businesses, of course. Canada declared a National Day of mourning for the Queen on September 19, the day of her funeral, which made it a statutory (paid) holiday for federal workers only. Quebec, Ontario, Saskatchewan and Manitoba decided not declare it a statutory holiday, meaning ordinary workers wouldn’t have a paid day off, but Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Newfoundland, and Labrador all did, and British Columbia made it a holiday only for provincial public service workers. In Canada, the mess was largely because businesses opposed it on the grounds they only had six days to make arrangements. The United Kingdom’s “bank holiday” on the day of the Queen’s funeral was not a paid day off.
NZ businesses and the most rightwing party in Parliament whined loudly about having to give workers a day off. Of course. However, while business and their allies in politics and the media can be counted on to always complain about having to do anything positive for workers, I have to admit I didn’t really see the point of having a special holiday on September 26.
The Queen’s funeral was a week earlier, and the official period of morning in her native United Kingdom ended that day. This meant that New Zealand’s day of remembrance a week later was disconnected from the official mourning. Add to that the fact that photos of her ledger stone had been revealed, and NZ’s day seemed kind of, well, pointless. On the other hand, it’s not unheard of for official days of remembrance to be held some time after the date, though not usually for such a high-profile person.
The official commemoration was a national service at The Wellington Cathedral of St Paul, a modernist Anglican cathedral whose cornerstone was laid by the Queen on January 13, 1954, during her Royal Tour of New Zealand. I watched a bit of the service, but not for long—it wasn’t my sort of thing, being a Christian service for Christians like the Queen. From what I saw of the service, though, they made an effort to be inclusive, similar to the actual funeral.
The Queen’s Personal New Zealand Flag entered the cathedral at the start of the service, and led the departure at the end (I saw that on the news later, though, because it happened before and after I watched). That standard isn’t the same as her official banner used in the UK, since within New Zealand her official position was Queen of New Zealand, not of the UK. It was used mostly the same way the one in the UK was, and the service was the last time it will be used for official purposes. A new banner will be created for King Charles III. Australia and Canada also have Personal Flags for the monarch.
There was a minute of silence held throughout the country, however, I wasn’t aware of that, either, until I saw the evening news because it, too, happened before I turned the TV on. I’m pretty sure most New Zealanders weren’t aware of it either, not unless they were somewhere where the service was being shown.
I have mixed feelings about it all. First, I completely understand that she was head of the Church of England, and as such, having such an overtly religious service is appropriate. On the other hand, as I’ve said many times, I’m uncomfortable with overt religiosity of any kind being merged with civic and governmental functions. At the same time, I’m also well aware that the New Zealand government doesn’t have any sort of secular official “services” (as, indeed, many governments don’t). And, of course, anyone who didn’t want to take part for whatever reason—religious, political, lack of interest—didn’t have to because there was, of course, no compulsion to participate.
Desipte all that, for me it mainly just seemed kind of unnecessary: She’d been buried a week by then, and most people had already started moving on. I question the wisdom of continuing the mourning for another week because of the effect that it can have on the people who clearly were personally affected by the Queen’s death. But there’s one thing more, and the harshest question: Did that many New Zealanders really need or specifically want a special day to farewell the queen a week after her funeral?
The only televised coverage was on Newshub, the news operation of TV Three, which is part of US-owned media company Warner Bros. Discovery Australia-New Zealand, apparently partnering with NZ’s state-owned radio broadcaster, RNZ. However, Newshub hasn’t posted its coverage on their YouTube Channel (though it may be available on their on-demand streaming service, ThreeNow; I haven’t checked). The video above is from the YouTube Channel of The New Zealand Herald newspaper, and it’s just a version of the Newshub coverage, some of it raw footage (with chyrons added, covering the broadcaster’s chyrons that identified who was speaking…). The broadcast was funded by government funding agency, NZ On Air. All a bit weird, it seems to me, since both TVNZ’s One News and Newshub carried the actual funeral live, yet the coverage of the one in New Zealand and for New Zealand was much lower key. Does that mean an implicit acknowledgement that it just wasn’t a very big deal?
To be blunt, the answers to the questions raised by all of this don’t matter: It’s truly over now, and New Zealanders are moving on. There will be different stories and questions related to the monarchy in the years ahead, but this particular chapter is now well and truly closed. Questions, however, will be the one certainty in the future.
While this is the first time most workers have experienced the death of their monarch, Commonwealth Realms faced opposition to a day off. Australia declared a holiday (held September 22) not long after the Queen died, but republicans opposed it, as did businesses, of course. Canada declared a National Day of mourning for the Queen on September 19, the day of her funeral, which made it a statutory (paid) holiday for federal workers only. Quebec, Ontario, Saskatchewan and Manitoba decided not declare it a statutory holiday, meaning ordinary workers wouldn’t have a paid day off, but Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Newfoundland, and Labrador all did, and British Columbia made it a holiday only for provincial public service workers. In Canada, the mess was largely because businesses opposed it on the grounds they only had six days to make arrangements. The United Kingdom’s “bank holiday” on the day of the Queen’s funeral was not a paid day off.
NZ businesses and the most rightwing party in Parliament whined loudly about having to give workers a day off. Of course. However, while business and their allies in politics and the media can be counted on to always complain about having to do anything positive for workers, I have to admit I didn’t really see the point of having a special holiday on September 26.
The Queen’s funeral was a week earlier, and the official period of morning in her native United Kingdom ended that day. This meant that New Zealand’s day of remembrance a week later was disconnected from the official mourning. Add to that the fact that photos of her ledger stone had been revealed, and NZ’s day seemed kind of, well, pointless. On the other hand, it’s not unheard of for official days of remembrance to be held some time after the date, though not usually for such a high-profile person.
The official commemoration was a national service at The Wellington Cathedral of St Paul, a modernist Anglican cathedral whose cornerstone was laid by the Queen on January 13, 1954, during her Royal Tour of New Zealand. I watched a bit of the service, but not for long—it wasn’t my sort of thing, being a Christian service for Christians like the Queen. From what I saw of the service, though, they made an effort to be inclusive, similar to the actual funeral.
The Queen’s Personal New Zealand Flag entered the cathedral at the start of the service, and led the departure at the end (I saw that on the news later, though, because it happened before and after I watched). That standard isn’t the same as her official banner used in the UK, since within New Zealand her official position was Queen of New Zealand, not of the UK. It was used mostly the same way the one in the UK was, and the service was the last time it will be used for official purposes. A new banner will be created for King Charles III. Australia and Canada also have Personal Flags for the monarch.
There was a minute of silence held throughout the country, however, I wasn’t aware of that, either, until I saw the evening news because it, too, happened before I turned the TV on. I’m pretty sure most New Zealanders weren’t aware of it either, not unless they were somewhere where the service was being shown.
I have mixed feelings about it all. First, I completely understand that she was head of the Church of England, and as such, having such an overtly religious service is appropriate. On the other hand, as I’ve said many times, I’m uncomfortable with overt religiosity of any kind being merged with civic and governmental functions. At the same time, I’m also well aware that the New Zealand government doesn’t have any sort of secular official “services” (as, indeed, many governments don’t). And, of course, anyone who didn’t want to take part for whatever reason—religious, political, lack of interest—didn’t have to because there was, of course, no compulsion to participate.
Desipte all that, for me it mainly just seemed kind of unnecessary: She’d been buried a week by then, and most people had already started moving on. I question the wisdom of continuing the mourning for another week because of the effect that it can have on the people who clearly were personally affected by the Queen’s death. But there’s one thing more, and the harshest question: Did that many New Zealanders really need or specifically want a special day to farewell the queen a week after her funeral?
The only televised coverage was on Newshub, the news operation of TV Three, which is part of US-owned media company Warner Bros. Discovery Australia-New Zealand, apparently partnering with NZ’s state-owned radio broadcaster, RNZ. However, Newshub hasn’t posted its coverage on their YouTube Channel (though it may be available on their on-demand streaming service, ThreeNow; I haven’t checked). The video above is from the YouTube Channel of The New Zealand Herald newspaper, and it’s just a version of the Newshub coverage, some of it raw footage (with chyrons added, covering the broadcaster’s chyrons that identified who was speaking…). The broadcast was funded by government funding agency, NZ On Air. All a bit weird, it seems to me, since both TVNZ’s One News and Newshub carried the actual funeral live, yet the coverage of the one in New Zealand and for New Zealand was much lower key. Does that mean an implicit acknowledgement that it just wasn’t a very big deal?
To be blunt, the answers to the questions raised by all of this don’t matter: It’s truly over now, and New Zealanders are moving on. There will be different stories and questions related to the monarchy in the years ahead, but this particular chapter is now well and truly closed. Questions, however, will be the one certainty in the future.
Monday, September 12, 2022
National transitions
The normal progress of transition from one monarch to another is underway. Saturday night (NZ time), I watched the official proclamation of King Charles III at the Palace of St. James in London, an event that, of course, last happened when Queen Elizabeth II was proclaimed 70 years ago, but this was the first time it’s ever been televised (the full 1:10:35 long video of the “Accession Council and Proclamation Council”, which includes the actual proclamation at the end, is available on ”The Royal Family” YouTube Channel; to skip directly to the official proclamation, click here). The events have never been televised before, so few people alive today would ever have seen it before.
Yesterday, the New Zealand government officially proclaimed Charles III as the King of New Zealand (video above) in a ceremony that’s been established for ages, and that clearly borrows phrasing from the UK’s proclamation. As with the UK’s ceremony and proclamation, this is the first time New Zealand’s was televised, too, though television didn’t officially begin in New Zealand until 1960). Canada has also proclaimed Charles III as their new king (WATCH), and so has Australia (WATCH). I think it’s fascinating that only Australia dropped “Defender of the Faith” title from the proclamation, even though neither New Zealand, Canada, nor Australia have an established church, and so, there’s no “faith” to be defended as there is (officially, anyway…) in the United Kingdom.
As an ol’ political science major, I find all this fascinating, and it’s especially interesting to be able to witness history that so few people alive have ever seen. And there’s more still to come..
Yesterday, the New Zealand government officially proclaimed Charles III as the King of New Zealand (video above) in a ceremony that’s been established for ages, and that clearly borrows phrasing from the UK’s proclamation. As with the UK’s ceremony and proclamation, this is the first time New Zealand’s was televised, too, though television didn’t officially begin in New Zealand until 1960). Canada has also proclaimed Charles III as their new king (WATCH), and so has Australia (WATCH). I think it’s fascinating that only Australia dropped “Defender of the Faith” title from the proclamation, even though neither New Zealand, Canada, nor Australia have an established church, and so, there’s no “faith” to be defended as there is (officially, anyway…) in the United Kingdom.
As an ol’ political science major, I find all this fascinating, and it’s especially interesting to be able to witness history that so few people alive have ever seen. And there’s more still to come..
Friday, September 09, 2022
London Bridge is down
For most of us, she is, at the very least, a link to a constancy within our own lives: She was always there. Presidents and prime ministers come and go, but the Queen was constant. As we get older, we all lose the links, the anchor points, that have kept us, for lack of a better word, moored in our own lives. But everything and everyone ends, and so, too, do those moorings. We adapt.
For me, it’s going to be weird to be in a world without Queen Elizabeth in it, and to talk of “the King”. Next year, TV ads will bring more weirdness as retailers promote their “King’s Birthday Sales”, and it’ll be a reminder again that we have all dealt with repeated and absolutely massive upheavals and changes over the past several years—and that reality’s clearly not changing for the foreseeable future.
I wish good luck for the new King of New Zealand, King Charles III—he’s definitely going to need some. And while I may not be a fan of monarchies, I can nevertheless admire the Queen for a job well done. London Bridge is down. Farewell.
This post was originally published on my personal Facebook Page. The title and phrase “London Bridge is down” is the code phrase for the UK Government’s ”Operation London Bridge”, the advance planning for what would happen following the death of Queen Elizabeth II. The portrait above of the Queen is being used for official mourning.
Wednesday, May 13, 2020
Times Like These
It’s less than half a day until New Zealand enters Alert Level 2, the closest we’ve been to “normal” since the pandemic began. For many New Zealanders, including me, going to the next Alert Level has brought an odd mix of excitement and trepidation. We’ll know in the next couple of weeks which one was more justified.
The excitement is as obvious as it is palpable: We’ll all get to see friends and family that we haven’t seen in seven weeks, so “excitement” is for many of us a bit of an understatement. I think that’s especially true for people like me who have been in solitary confinement during that time.
The trepidation is similarly obvious and palpable. We’ve seen many countries begin to open up only to face a “second wave” of cases of Covid-19. Will we have that happen, too? Scientists still don’t fully understand how the virus is transmitted, so can we be sure that we’re avoiding exposure to the virus? On top of all that, after seven weeks of isolation, to varying degrees, the idea of going back out in public is terrifying for some, and a source of anxiety for many.
Excitement and trepidation abound.
Each of us has tried to get to this point as best we can, and some of those efforts have been shared publicly. The video above is among them.
It is Live Lounge Allstars’ cover of “Times Like These”, a song by Foo Fighters originally released January 14, 2003. The first version of their video for that song is at the bottom of this post. Foo Fighters’ Dave Grohl, who co-wrote the song, appears in the cover version, too.
The Live Studio Allstars are a bunch of performers who are well known in the UK (regardless of where they’re actually from). It refers to BBC Radio One’s “Live Studio”, a programme that has performers to cover versions of songs. The video above premiered during BBC One’s “Big Night In” telethon broadcast on April 23. It raised funds for charities helping those affected by Covid-19.
While it seems almost petty to talk about chart performance for a charity single, but since I always talk about that when talking about pop music, here goes: In Australia, it didn’t chart, but in Canada in was at 8, New Zealand 5, the UK 1, and the USA 12. It was the first single produced by BBC Radio 1 to hit Number One in the UK since their cover version of “Perfect Day” in 1997.
I don’t normally share lyric videos, but sometimes they can be justifed, and this is one of those times. The lyric video for this cover version makes it clear who everyone is, something particularly useful for some of us. The version of the performance video broadcast in New Zealand has a chyron as each performer sings, showing their names. I’m familiar with a lot of the artists in the video, but I didn’t necessarily recognise all of them, so, without the chyrons in the performance video on YouTube, I found the lyric video useful.
This pandemic has a while to play out yet, so we may see more collaborative efforts like this. Much as I like this, and I do, and without meaning any offence to the participants, I nevertheless hope we don’t need many more of these sorts of things. I hope we really are turning a corner. The thought we we may be doing so is a cause for excitement, but that’s definitely comes with trepidation. Here in New Zealand, we’ll know in the next couple of weeks which one was more justified.
Nice cover version, though.
Monday, April 06, 2020
The Queen’s broadcast to the UK and Commonwealth
Today the Queen delivered a special message to the UK and The Commonwealth, one of only five time that she’s made an address apart from her annual Christmas message (the others were in 1991 during the Gulf War, in 1997 after the death of Princess Diana, and after the Queen Mother’s death in 2002, and in 2012 to mark her Diamond Jubilee). The video was recorded at Windsor Castle, where she and Prince Philip are riding out the self-isolation, something that’s prudent for a 93 year old.
The Queen’s been around so long that she offers a unique lived experience relevant to these times. I’m not exactly a royalist, but gotta admire the ol’ gal’s fortitude, attention to her duties, and the sort of comfort coming from the continuity of her presence.
This post is a revised and expanded version of something I posted to my personal Facebook today.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
Is Boris bad enough?
Boris is certainly capable of becoming a demagogue if he wants to, and some are suggesting he wants to on one issue alone, the one he’s constantly lied about: Brexit. He vowed that the UK will leave the European Union by October 31, “do or die, come what may”. That could mean a so-called “no deal Brexit” in which the UK crashes out of the EU with nothing in place to deal with the resulting economic and political chaos in the UK, not the least because it may spur pro-EU Scotland to vote for independence form the UK, and Scotland First Minister Nicola Sturgeon suggested as much today in a series of Tweets.
Theresa May, the soon-to-be ex-Prime Minister, tried to get a deal through Parliament three times and failed three times. A large bloc of Conservative Party (Tory) MPs oppose a no-deal Brexit, and would not support Boris going the no-deal route. In addition, the Tories have a tiny majority in the House of Commons, and will end up with just two votes to spare if, as expected, the Remain-supporting Liberal Democrats pick up two seats in upcoming by-elections.
To get around this problem, Boris is supposedly thinking about proroguing Parliament, that is, briefly suspending it so he can do as he wishes without risking Parliament voting against him. This is widely considered unconstitutional, it’s obviously anti-democratic, and it would be a bad faith move. Would he risk it? Or would he decide to go to an early election it the hope of winning a mandate?
Bets are being taken on both outcomes.
The whole process of Boris’s elevation has been anti-democratic. 159,320 members of the Conservative Party—the pro-Brexit party, of course—were the only ones who could vote. That works out to about 0.24% of he population of the UK who got to choose the next Prime Minister. The Conservative Party’s demographics don’t come close to being representative of the UK: The Conservative Party is 71% male, the highest proportion of any party in the UK. Its members’ average age is 57, the oldest of any political party. So, a small number of people who are more male, older, and concentrated in southern and southeast England, determined who the Prime Minister would be for the entire United Kingdom.
Conservative Party membership went back up in recent years, after a long period of decline, suggesting the party is attracting hardline conservatives, especially nativist/anti-immigration/racist folks. The party had lost about a third of its members after ex-PM David Cameron pushed through marriage equality in 2013, and that further suggests the party has moved more hard right than it was, which would make it more conservative than the general population.
Yet Tories alone, totally unrepresentative of the UK, were the only ones who got to elevate Boris.
In most Westminster-style systems, the party caucus chooses the replacement for a party leader, which also means the prime minister if they're leading government. Ordinarily, it's because the party leader has been rolled, but this is the second time in a row that the Tory Leader/PM has resigned and then been replaced. The normal procedure gives at least a theoretical possibility that the government will fall and fresh elections will be called so that the people can have a voice. In this case, older, white, richer conservative men decided for the entire country, and a Tory MP who defies the will of the party membership would be very, very foolish, and almost certainly committing political suicide.
I should add that I don't have an issue with a party in Opposition consulting its members—NZ Labour did that twice, though the membership only got a share of the total weighting, not the final say. Labour were the Opposition at the time, and who their Leader was didn't matter to government—obviously, because neither party leader chose in this way became NZ Prime Minister.
Still, it's possible that the chaos that will result when ego meets political reality will spark fresh elections called in a few weeks or a couple months. Boris believes in himself more than anything, apparently, he’d want to go for a mandate form the people. But with the Liberal Democrats winning all over the place on a pledge to hold a new referendum, he shouldn't count on holding his razor-thin majority. Whatever happened in the even of a new election, at least the people would get the voice they have been denied.
Is Boris as dangerous as everyone supposes? Potentially, absolutely, however, absolutely nothing is certain. He may try to play games by proroguing Parliament, he may call fresh elections, or for all we know he might get so frustrated by not getting his way that he just storms off.
The fate of the entire UK is in the balance.
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