On this day wherein the much-fabled Princess Diana is given her (inordinate) share of media attention, may many of us also reflect upon the (at least public) life of a person who left an indelible mark of his very own, in this case upon the New Zealand body politic, for time and futurity... .
Yes, another who died upon August the 31st, 43 years ago today, was a man and political leader many of us - from all shades and hues and dyes of political colours - still remember fondly and dearly...and whose death upon that fateful night, even, we still vividly remember. As the September All-Time Bulldog Band held forth with their unforgettable, irrepressible classic, 'Big Norm', we were 'humoured' with the wonderful verse (in particular) that declared, to one and all, that not only was 'the man of Big Labour...our Big Norm', but that he was moreover 'our great National figure', 'the man of Social Credit', and (something I presently cannot recall, but I think) 'the man of [kiwi] Values' (or some such thing)... . And who, watching Studio One (I believe it was) that memorable occasion, can forget how Norman Kirk phoned in from his hospital bed, where he was dying (and within hours about to meet his very death), to congratulate the guys (and gals) of the band upon their song...fully 'taking the mickey' and all (and moreover of P.M. Kirk himself!), as we say here in kiwi-land?
So let's here hear it once more for 'the man of big labour...our great national hero', Prime Minister Norman Kirk...*cut down in his very prime, while doing ever so much for the rest of us, no doubt 'simply' not taking sufficient care of himself, of his own health. He was someone who made so many of us proud to be kiwis, who strode astride on the world stage, and thus left an unforgettable impression upon any and all who dealt with him... . A politician in his very own league, someone we'll never again see the likes of surely...one who'll long be sorely missed.
Norman Kirk was someone moreover who had absolutely no truck whatsoever with the trendy as social liberalism that his own political party has subsequently embraced with its very heart and soul, and thus jettisoned the very heart and soul of a once great party led by such figures as the legendary Michael Joseph Savage...and Harry Holland (in its beginnings)...political figures who strode astride Aotearoa-New Zealand in the footsteps of the likes of the equally, even more legendary, larger-than-life Liberal Prime Minister 'King Dick' Seddon... .
May Big Norm rest in peace, ever symbolic of real, old, tried and true Labour, not the newfangled, imitation 'lite' version that since 1984 - until Jacinda Ardern, perhaps, God willing? - many of us have long since come to distrust and despise...the version that his modern-day Labourite counterpart, Tony Blair, served up such a watered-down version of that the great British people came to also learn to loathe... .
*Though not all subscribe to that 'simple' idea, the former Labour Party President (from Waitakere, I believe Bob Harvey's the name) 'famously' coming out with his own conspiracy theory a decade-and-a-half or so ago, about the C.I.A.'s (naturally clandestine) involvement in the extremely premature downfall, demise and very soon thereafter death of one of New Zealand's most popular and esteemed prime ministers. And though political figures of the day 'to a man' (and woman) either instantly dismissed outright or pooh-poohed the very idea, I find it more than a little interesting, even concerning/mildly disturbing that yours Truly a little while later - while undertaking educational training in my hometown of Christchurch during 2006 - heard wholly 'by chance' what was undoubtedly **selfsame conspiracy theory, albeit dressed (up) in rather elaborate and moreover highly convincing robes.
Though I recall 'getting in touch' (via phone etc), or at least making some such (reasonable) effort to, with relevant NZ current affairs show makers/producers etc (as a result), there was - as I well expected - no follow-up (let alone interest thereof); though one wouldn't normally expect the very purveyors of many of their own conspiracy theories, if rarely 'dressed up' as such, to be so outrightly dismissive of what was pretty nearly Aotearoa-New Zealand's own equivalent of America's JFK assassination. Of course people tend to follow up their own innate biases in such matters, but for journalists supposedly committed to pursuing truth at all costs to likewise adopt this sort of approach is depressing if not all that unpredictable. Yet, to be fair and reasonable myself, there may well have been other factors contributing to their refusal to investigate further...assuming I did actually get in touch (somehow-or-other) and am not simply guilty of a deluded memory!...such as a previous examination of such (apparently widespread) rumours... .
**(#1)What I was told by a fellow who, however otherwise level-headed and decent, nevertheless subscribed - like my younger sister - to a fairly unorthodox view of ***astrology (in his case traditional Western, in my sister's Chinese), at least for a biblical Christian...was 'something else altogether', as they say...and was it what!
***'Speaking' here as someone who had determined to become a professional astrologer, fully convinced in every which way of the accuracy of the constellations of the Zodiac and their uncanny influence(s) upon all things earthly and especially human, up until my unexpected conversion upon November 4th, 1982...mere months evidently after the equally unexpected and tragic accidental death of evangelical singing sensation, the inimitable and brilliant Keith Green, in a flying accident in a small plane with his kids, in the U S of A. .Yes, well aware of the oddity of adhering to such beliefs in our preeminently scientific, rationalistic age, let me simply add that anyone who knows anything substantial and meaningful upon the matter is equally well aware that what passes for 'astrology' - aka the well-known and oft-consulted weekly (magazine) and daily (newspaper) columns (at least Western) worldwide that pass for such, that purport to deliver day-to-day, everyday astrological (prophetic, future forth-telling) advice to one and all - ain't remotely the real thing!
What really matters is one's innate characteristics, temperament and personality makeup and tendencies as prefigured and predetermined by precisely which particular planets, (Earth's) moon(s) and 'local' solar system's sun were in the ascendancy, culmination and/or 'descendancy' at and upon the very moment one ****'arrived' upon this temporal globe.
****Though far as I know Western astrology doesn't subscribe - as perhaps Chinese astrology might well do - to the eastern religious idea that human beings, and 'other' fauna (i.e. animals) here, are simply born and reborn in an endless cycle - and moreover recycle! - of births and rebirths...much less have I ever done so.
**(#2)(At the wrong order of Asterisking Inc. I well know, but I've left the best - or worst (depending upon one's perspective) - for last: to simply 'say' that you'll have to stay tuned (in) for what that theory actually amounted to. It'll be - especially for me - exceedingly short, if not terribly sweet!
To Be Continued...
Thursday, August 31, 2017
Prophetic Words from a Very Secular Man: Princess Diana's Larger Than Life Death Two Decades On
Part One: Setting the Scene: A Death Unlike Any Other - 'Modern', Anyhow
As 'everyone' remembers precisely where they were, so we are told, when an assassin's bullet (or several) ripped through the frame of America's 35th president, and thus finished off 'Camelot' and with it the budding career of America's much-adulated, idolized and popstar-like President "JFK" (as he has been 'immortalized' ever since), who can possibly forget the day/eve(ning) of August 31st, 1997, when in an altogether different manner, but with the ultimate same result, 'the world' 'awoke' to the news that the youthful, famous, adulated and idolized Princess Diana met her own tragic death within a tunnel in Paris. No-one of my acquaintance, of my 'generation', anyhow. No, it was a moment in time never to be forgotten in days, weeks, months, years and decades to come.
Did that necessarily mean that each one of us then held the selfsame attitude towards or viewpoint of the cinderella swept up by a royal suitor, of the 'ugly duckling' (in the sense of 'commoner') 'plucked' from obscurity and (metaphorically) replanted in the palace of the (reigning) Queen, or, more precisely, miraculously transplanted into the (figurative) antechamber of the (putative) future king? Not necessarily, and indeed not at all from this pleb's perspective. Yet something was definitely at work.
That something - to my way of thinking (and reflecting) - was crystallized in and through a number of disparate events and occurrences that transpired over coming weeks, some seemingly utterly unrelated: the much-loved pop-song, the chart-busting hit chosen (within days) to be reworked into the funereal strains of an immemorially-beloved dirge to the Princess' memory and sung by the co-songwriter himself at her state funeral; the unforgettable speech of Diana's brother, giving the paparazzi in particular and (British) tabloid media in general a right royal serve to the proverbial, at selfsame service; the relative glare of publicity (or rather, lack thereof) given to another equally famous woman who likewise passed away, exactly one week on - in altogether different circumstances - on literally the other side of the globe; plus of course the remarkable, even extraordinary melodrama(s) subsequently played out across the Western world (especially) as crowds of adulators, well-wishers, and the deeply grieving turned out in literal hordes to give their own personal respects to the memory of a person who had - via the all-enveloping tentacles of the modern media - long since been embraced to their very 'bosoms' as their very own 'Princess Di'(ana) - as a modern-day reincarnation as it were of the goddess Diana so beloved of the Gentile masses the New Testament's preeminent Apostle Paul 'encountered' as he criss-crossed the then known (pre-European) world of his day.
Indeed as I reflect upon that time (and event) there are literally so many indelible memories surrounding those events and others in their temporal vicinity, including some intensely personal (and grief-wracking in and of themselves), as well as apparent synchronicities, 'coincidences', felicities and other such things that I not only can hardly contain myself from sharing, feeling metaphorically close to exploding therewith, but it's quite literally hard to know where to even begin; so, in an ironic twist, I'll leave off here for the present...
Many Apologies That I've Only Now Re-continued This Savagely Abridged Blogpost At the Very End of August 31st, 2017 - U.K. (i.e. Greenwich Standard Mean) Time...but such is life, as they say.
Part Two: A Prophet Without Knowing It
I'm choosing to resume here at what might appear an odd point, but it ties in with much of the rest that I'm due to share: a beloved old, classic LP, Elton John's and Bernie Taupin's much-acclaimed and well-selling 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road'. For, one simply couldn't have written a better 'introduction' to the untimely demise of Elton's good friend Diana than appears in the first three songs on side A of that classic two-record LP. It's almost - to my way of thinking - beyond (normal) belief, in fact, so eerily and unmistakably do those three songs point not only to Lady Diana Spencer's death but to Elton John's own - and the Western world-at-large's - reaction to that tragic passing.
So, you rightly query, how so? Well, song number one is the incredibly-titled 'Funeral for a Friend', and did EJ perform a special item to the memory of his long-time friend at Diana's state funeral, or what? And sure, he was invited, or rather requested, to alter the graphic imagery of another of his songs (chronologically, #3) from that LP - his one-time chart-topping hit, 'Candle in the Wind' (about 'Norma Jean', aka the famous actress and mistress of JFK himself, Marilyn Monroe) - thus reconfiguring it as 'England's Rose', to make it acceptable to a general audience at said occasion, yet it was still effectively that classic Candle in the Wind whose memorable lyrics resounded as a background echo in the ears of many TV (and on-site) listeners/viewers, (as with myself), I've no doubt whatsoever.
And on that particular score, I find it personally equally fascinating, intriguing again beyond belief or everyday 'coincidence' that that classic song (of Elton John's and Bernie Taupin's) was the very one which came - completely unsought - to my own mind, within mere days after Diana's death and certainly prior to media report being made that EJ had been even touted as a possible special guest, let alone officially chosen to perform his unique musical item at her funeral service. (Curiously I can even remember exactly where I was when that thought first came to me, driving my Mum's (and at one time my own) 'old' Toyota Starlet just up from the Roslyn shopping centre!)
And after Funeral for a Friend Taupin/John then feature the little-known accompaniment (to Funeral for a Friend) known as 'Love Lies Bleeding'. "What?", you understandably exclaim, barely able to credit the irony yourself. I can only add: "I fully agree; with knobs on, to boot!" Need I full out the relevant detail? I mean, really?
And so side A of Elton John's (and Bernie Taupin's) undisputed greatest (as in most popular and generally-acclaimed) LP, 'Beyond Yellow Brick Road', itself contains an almost prophetic/'forth-telling' outline of the very scenario which ultimately played out on the fateful day of August 31st, 1997. Yes, at a funeral for a very close friend, the 'legendary' Princes Diana Spencer, whose own generally and much-lauded love for the world (and especially its unfortunates, whether aids' victims at home or land mine victims abroad) now both metaphorically and literally lay bleeding in a limousine within a Parisian tunnel...as it came to an untimely and tragic end not of its own making...Diana's one-time friend Elton John sang a song, 'England's Rose', *which captured the very spirit of her life and times and personality and character, to a world-at-large in equal measure of grief which could only echo within their own hearts a sense of 'Right on, buddy; right on!' You've nailed it down to a literal 't'.
*Most of whom perhaps, like myself, held within themselves the actual lyrics of the original song, Candle in the Wind, whose very words themselves so vividly and graphically and unmistakeably painted a verbal portrait of the person whose life was so abruptly cut short upon that fateful day.
To Be Continued...
Saturday eve (September 2nd) NZ time
Part Three: Reading the Hearts of the Self-Appointed Critics As An Open Book
Having thus dealt extensively with the main (and, it seems to me, rather unique) 'thing' that struck me at the time, let me now 'posit' some additional observations: some (involving Diana's brother Earl Spencer, as well as another famous woman on the world stage) 'hitting' me powerfully mainly 'then and there'; another (vis-a-vis the seemingly unprecedented mass outpouring of grief) both then and thereafter; and the last occurring to me the other day as I viewed (at a thankfully earlier time slot, the second occasion shown within a week or so) a special new two-hour documentary featuring some 'exclusive' reflections of sons (and princes) William and Harry in particular, alongside the likes of then famously popular new British Prime Minister Tony Blair and others in the wider royal 'entourage' and community.
The special funeral highlight for this (free-lance) journo and longtime close media watcher and critic - though Tony Blair's rendition of the famous New Testament 'love' chapter, 1 Corinthians 13, and Elton John's 'performance' of his reworked Candle in the Wind, 'England's Rose', constitute pretty close seconds - was a brilliant, incisive and bitterly scathing speech by Diana Spencer's South African-based brother, Earl. Transitioning almost seamlessly and without further ado from a deeply moving, from the depths of the heart eulogy to his sister's character and lifework, Earl launched into a full frontal assault upon initially (and primarily) the paparazzi - who'd arguably literally chased and hounded Diana to her death in the French tunnel - through to the tabloid press who'd dogged her steps for literally decades; making her life a virtual misery, affording both her and her beloved kids no real privacy whatsoever, so constantly and incessantly and unremittingly did they bedevil her/their steps and every move. Finally, in a finishing 'flourish' perhaps more addressed to the media in general, or at least 'royal commentators', he left some of us speechless with amazement as in one pithy, poignant sentence he summed up his 'beef' in a nutshell, in the process arguably embracing modern-day journalism and media in one fell swoop (in spirit, anyhow, even if his literal words could hardly be transposed in their entirety to fit all situations without adjustment).
Earl Spencer, wielding his verbal sword, *concluded by firstly mentioning how his sister hadn't, indeed could never understand why said media always sought to put some negative connotation upon, to give some less than flattering interpretation to, the good works and deeds she habitually engaged in. But she - and he - finally were simply unable to avoid the inescapable realization and conclusion that "those [habitually] in the moral gutter were simply unable to understand those at the opposite end of the moral [continuum]". Needless to say, the service was scarcely over before selfsame media readily turned their sights upon a new-found target, Earl Spencer himself, adopting those selfsame methods and modus operandi in a newly-fashioned determined to now discredit him, sadly eventually seemingly succeeding therein as, after the soon breakup of his own marriage, they proceeded to drag his name through the mud in a wretchedly successful attempt to wreak utu (Maori for revenge or vengeance) upon the man who'd presumed, who'd had the sheer audacity to question the moral judgement, the very ethics and character, of these self-appointed 'guardians' of 'the truth'. And sadly, by their very silence on the one hand, and readiness to propagate such titillating scandal against Earl Spencer's good name and reputation on the other, the Western media-at-large subsequently joined in the hate fest at his expense, proving yet again - as if it had been necessary - the original veracity of his frankly unanswerable critique.
Some words of Scripture come uninvited now to my mind, and I'm glad they do, they sum up the aforementioned situation perfectly, in so many ways. Firstly the words of Jesus' beloved Apostle John, who after detailing Jesus' private audience with Nicodemus, a member of the Jewish Supreme Court, the Sanhedrin, then concludes with some remarks Jesus then made:
And this is the condemnation [judgment], that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one that doeth [practiseth] evil [bad things] hateth the light, neither cometh to [unto] the light, lest his deeds should be reproved [detected]. But he that doeth [worketh] truth cometh to [unto] the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God." (The Newberry Bible: John 3:19-21)
And in words that I've long since used as both the title, and indeed the entirety of my message, in another blogpost, the 'gospel prophet' of the Older Testament, Isaiah, gives a strong warning to all those, like our modern-day media, who so often venture upon such forbidden ground themselves:
"Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; That put darkness for light, and light for darkness." (The Newberry Bible: Isaiah 5:20)
I don't believe Princess Diana's brother Earl could have put it better himself.
*My profuse apologies to Earl Spencer for of necessity paraphrasing his words somewhat liberally here, but I'm sure I've contained the great gist of his denunciatory remarks and moreover their cutting tone and spirit.
To Be Continued...
Sunday (Father's Day, NZ time) September the 3rd
Part Four: So What Made All the Difference - Between Princess Diana's Death and Some Others; In Particular, Between That of the 'Queen of Hearts' and That of the 'Missionary to the Poor'?
Perhaps I was one of the few to notice, and moreover note the fact, that the then two most well-known and respected women of that time died within a literal week of each other. *Incredibly - and perhaps the reason for my so observing this - was the fact that the death of my much-beloved Grandma two months earlier itself occurred precisely one week before the death of my then closest friend's own Mother. As I reflected upon this, and then heard almost exactly my own thoughts then echoed by a **talkback host, then a fairly rare breed (bring back the day!), a day or two later, my thoughts naturally turned to considering/assessing just what really had made all the difference. The conclusions I came to were actually pretty simple, even obvious, but nevertheless I felt and still feel worthy of note.
I realized that Mother Teresa, whose death did actually result in a state funeral also, I believe - or at least one broadcast 'simulcast' to the world-at-large, and certainly attended by some fairly high-ranking, prestigious dignitaries (of both church and state, from both India and elsewhere) - differed majorly from Princess Diana's in just two essential but very significant respects: the relative lack of publicity and fuss 'n bother, of 'big-noting', given to the 'saint to the guttermost', alongside the comparative absence of the sort of unstinted outpouring of grief so evident (at least Western) worldwide with Diana; and the particular characteristics of the two women that evidently caused this to be.
So what really made all the difference in how media treated the two, or reacted to their deaths? Well, excuse my 'tactlessness', but whereas Diana was youthful (though rapidly aging - like all of us), rich, and possessing much (worldly) power and prestige/influence, ***plus of course glamour (that intangible element of 'charm'), Teresa lacked all of the above...to the nth degree. Yes, while I do accept and readily concede that the response could easily be explained in terms of the obvious fact that whereas Diana died awfully young, and so of course hugely prematurely, Mother Teresa had lived a very long life, and so was nearing her end anyhow. Yes, fair enough on that particular score.
But Teresa was not only getting on in years, she was poor as the proverbial church-mouse, and utterly lacking in personal or political power and prestige, not to mention superficial charm, glamour and glitter Yes, let's just say she lacked the 'good looks' and personal 'sexiness' so extolled to the rafters these days; especially by a media totally enmeshed in and fixated upon the 'wonders' of the female physique and moreover its attractions to the other half of humanity. Quite frankly, nothing else could possibly account for the relative 'treatment' of these two female ****'icons' of recent generations, though they were both undeniably women whose lives had a tremendous impact in their relative spheres upon those of their fellow human beings in our modern (pre-'9/11') world. That much is surely incontestable.
*Even more incredible to me was that all four deaths - of significant women (in our various lives) - occurred, I believe, if I remember rightly, upon Saturdays and/or Sundays (depending upon one's hemispherical location).
**Perhaps it was a fellow named John McDonald, long since having moved on from his then position with Newstalk ZB to the then Radio New Zealand frequency.
***Though as I reflect in depth I cannot help but include one additional quality, one which, whether truly possessed by Diana or otherwise, was widely perceived as so being. This 'quaint' quality of 'innocence', I at least firmly believe, was undoubtedly one of the greatest secrets of her popularity and/or universal appeal.
****Perish the awful cliche-ridden term!
Monday/Tuesday September the 4th/5th
Part Five: Dianaphilia Runs Rampant: How the Phenomenon of Dianamania Became A Global Pandemic
We now approach the very heart of this blogpost, a 'thing' I've deemed dianamania - or dianaphilia; both newly-minted terms, as far as I know, anyhow...and both seeming - to my way of thinking - to accurately, even graphically, describe the phenomenon under consideration/examination...and in a way nothing else either does or even can. For within minutes, even moments after the news got out - was spread abroad - we suddenly had what can only be deemed a psychological phenomenon, whereby people throughout the world - Westerndom, anyhow - were being reduced to grief previously unknown, certainly virtually unheard of. And grief moreover for someone - however (superficially) beautiful/attractive, glamourous, charming - whose involvement in our own personal, day-to-day lives had ever been only vicarious, mediated for us through that beloved 'icon' of modernity variously known as the idiot box, the kiddie manager, or simply the television set, or TV. That is, for the great majority of onlookers, anyhow, - i.e., all those (the vast majority of us) who'd never ever personally known Diana - beyond perhaps a cursory crowd glance or word, or at most a handshake.
People were quite literally stopped in their tracks, and within a short time became obsessed (with), even seemingly 'possessed' by this happening...as if they'd quite literally taken leave of their senses; thus suspending all normal, proper, rational judgment. That someone they'd (generally) never even met, much less personally known - except vicariously, c/o the ubiquitous 'idiot box' - should somehow have the innate/inherent power to mold and reshape their lives and emotions...and moreover cause deep-seated grief and heartfelt, incapacitating mourning - spoke veritable volumes, if not encyclopaedia!
And so, when, as the very latest documentary-makers upon the death of Diana have cited, various individuals and couples were randomly approached and interviewed over days (and weeks) subsequent to the Princess' death, very strange reactions were cited, such as where one 'wag' later stumbled upon divulged he hadn't even had such intensity of grief for his very own wife when she'd died! Such types of responses were obviously far more befitting the deaths of close personal relatives and friends, and grief reactions thereto which one would certainly expect from those closest and dearest to them; but not the sort of responses one would normally have to the death of total strangers, leastwise from folk who'd never even known them to begin with! But of course this was precisely what we saw upon Diana's death - all across the world.
It was a phenomenon whereby the vast majority of not only ye average Jane and Joe Bloggs, but supposedly rational, serious commentators even - to virtually a man and woman - seemed completely 'taken in', 'under the spell' of intoxication, infatuation, bewitchment, hypnosis; dispossessed, however momentarily, of their own free wills; swept up in a global obsession, addiction, even dare I say it, mania. Well, I dare do so, despite myself admittedly also being carried off, carried away by this obsession, this mania, which I'd now like to term 'dianamania' or 'dianaphilia'. But I was not the first or necessarily the most insightful or perceptive, to notice let alone name or identify it; that distinction seems to have belonged to one very *courageous individual alone, even if he was perhaps accompanied, either then or subsequently - however unbeknownst to myself - by many other opinion writers and the like.
That person was well-known New York-based socio-political critic Christopher Hitchens. He was, as I say, and far as I'm aware, the first person to both identify this new concept and moreover 'call it out' for the dangerous psychological phenomenon it undoubtedly had become, and just as - in fact even more - importantly, to subject it to the sort of critique for which he is famous; and for that he deserves full credit, though much more so for being prepared to hang out on a limb with virtually the whole world against him.
To say that with Princess Di's unexpected demise people were suddenly caught up in a chord of public sentiment previously unknown is clearly an indisputable truism. It was indeed one in which (summing up all I can still recall of Hitchens' observations and analysis) people globally, or at least 'Westernwide', for the moment took leave of their rational faculties and were swept up in pure, unadulterated emotionalism. Something Hitchens understandably considered a dangerous thing, no doubt vividly recalling how similar outbreaks of mass hysteria throughout the previous 20th-Century had seen masses of people in various places caught up in socio-political movements, and, in 'temporarily' even losing possession of their rationality and higher reasoning powers, had become a prey for tyrants and megalomaniacs alike, great oppressors who had used and exploited these folks' naivete and gullibility to further their own often diabolical ideological agendas.
Yes, such mass movements, however initially innocent-seeming, had oftentimes, even regularly morphed into something much more sinister, and, like the mass hysteria with which sports fans and fanatics at times have 'lost their senses' in utter pandemonium, 'harmless' emotion' and well-meaning sentiment have quickly, rapidly transmogrified into what can only be described as rebellious, chaotic anarchy engendered by mass brainwashing or crowd-induced hysteria; whereby died-in-the-wool loyalty to one's beloved, be it a sports team, a political party, a nation, a popstar or the like, or even a special family member or friend whom one has **put upon such a pedestal as to esteem as almost godlike, can simply do no wrong.
It is a 'condition' whereby one becomes possessed by a kind of reverse anthropomorphism, and instead of a 'conception or representation of a god as having the form, personality, or attributes of man; ascription of human characteristics to what is not human', as my ever handy Chambers Concise Dictionary defines 'anthropomorphism' itself, the definition (in Dian's unique case) here becomes reworked as follows: the conception or representation of a human being as having the form, personality, or attributes of a god/dess; ascription of god/desslike characteristics to what is not a god/dess. Need I say more?
Yes, just as Earl Spencer noted at Diana's funeral, whereby "the one (i.e. Diana) with the name representing 'the huntress' [of ancient Greek mythology] herself eventually became 'the hunted' ", people in our day [i.e. during that mysterious period of universal grief back in 1997] became - if unwillingly and unknowingly, even subconsciously - themselves wrapped up in that selfsame phenomenon; a mania, as recorded in the annals of the Book of Acts in the New Testament, which also apparently struck the crowds in an amphitheatre in the great Apostle Paul's day. No, just as 'we all' didn't do what the hateful ***paparazzi got up to, ultimately pursuing, virtually hounding and harassing Diana to her very death, the Greek multitudes at that time themselves got wrapped up in the selfsame thing we encountered back in 1997, in which, for three long hours, nothing could be heard over the ongoing shout of the spectators: "Great is Diana of the Ephesians!" Her godlike status simply could not be questioned; it was a cardinal principle of that society, and anyone in any way seeming to challenge it was (literally) shut out, as if their view of matters was irrelevant; unwanted it most assuredly was!
Yes indeed, Princess Diana's death was a singular event, a psychological study in human nature, worthy of a varsity paper even - a snapshot in time, now enshrined for time immemorial in peoples' hearts. Yet what a light it cast, it shone - and continues to shine - upon modern-day (Western) humanity, a 'people' having summarily eschewed anything and everything making pretense to Godlike status while actually eagerly, desperately seeking solace in anything and everything which will effectively substitute for such in their hearts and lives; living in conscious denial of a reality they really inwardly crave and cannot live without!
The very severity/intensity of peoples' grief responses/reactions were simply out of all proportion to both the importance of the event to both life and the universe in general and to their own lives in particular. Nothing else can account for let alone explain this except to label it indeed as a singular psychological phenomenon; and one unparallelled in most of our lifetimes. It was an event whereby the mass of (at least Western) humanity was caught up in a wave of mass hysteria more associated with extreme ideologies and sports fanaticism, and surely better befitting a ****more worthy object.
*Because to remark that Mr Hitchens was, almost from word go, subjected to intense and at times even vituperative, public criticism and moreover opprobrium as a result of his singular critique, is to considerably understate matters.
**For a singular treatment of this phenomenon, i.e. of cultish 'groupthink' - although unavoidably, inevitably that very (latter) term of course instantly 'conjures up' [conveys as if from the dead by a necromancer] George Orwell, celebrated author of not only 1984 but the equally brilliant and epochal Animal Farm, since he, by first utilizing and skillfully employing this very term - far as I know - has pretty well singlehandedly brought this phenomenon into widespread public awareness - one likewise cannot go wrong by also referring to C S Lewis' equally brilliant The Four Loves, where he unveils all the many and various dangers inherent in it.
***According to my Chambers Concise Dictionary, the correct word is 'paparazzo': 'a photographer who specializes in harassing famous people in order to obtain photographs of them in unguarded moments.'
****By this last comment I intend no reflection upon Diana Spencer personally, only to signify that such adoration and indeed adulation has traditionally been seen as not only wholly inappropriate for mere mortals, for everyday, fallible human beings, but likewise only truly appropriate for a Being considered to be God. It was verily something Earl Spencer and other eulogizers at Diana's funeral, moreover, readily conceded about her, indeed a major part of her appeal, enabling multitudes to personally identify with her through all her very many human failings and foibles.
To Be Continued...
September 12th, 2017
Part Six: Afterthoughts on A Life Lived In The Public Spotlight: Expectations of British Royals' Attention To 'Duty' Vis-a-vis Grief
*On this other day (Northern Hemisphere Time, Anyway) upon which 'everyone' graphically remembers exactly where they were and what they were doing when another major international 'incident' occurred, i.e. '9/11' as it will ever be 'immortalized', it seems appropriate (if more by chance than intentionally) to wrap up with some curious, but significant, reflections upon the royals' own **reminiscences of that decisive day back in 1997 in which their own lives were irreversibly altered.
Essentially the dynamic of the conundrum involved, for on the one hand Queen Elizabeth herself, and on the other for the two young royal princes, William and Harry, was between their own understanding of their rights to personal grief or otherwise as opposed to public expectations of their duty (or even grief) at such a time. And thus 'Queenie' was essentially panned/pilloried 'from pillar to post' for not showing sufficient grief and/or the sort of emotions 'everyone else' was experiencing, and thus it was accordingly both expected, indeed positively demanded of the Monarch herself and British Monarchy Incorporated, that she likewise, effectively not be allowed to grieve - or not/otherwise - i.e. in her own, private, personal, self-chosen way.
Meanwhile, in a position that can only be described as the polar opposite of the dilemma facing Elizabeth, William and Harry confessed in this latest close-up, in-depth doco that though wanting to grieve away from the public eye (as their own personal, private emotions seemed to best dictate) - indeed as any kids prematurely deprived of a very beloved mother would naturally be expected to want to do - without any recriminations whatsoever, they pretty soon realized (as with Queen Elizabeth the Second) that this would be ultimately unacceptable to the British public, and so eventually resolved to 'bite the bullet' and shun emotion in favour of duty.
And thus the two young princes' genuine, legitimate emotional responses were effectively shelved (for the time being) in favour of (their expected) public duty, whereas the Queen's right to attend to her own private duties (embracing personal grief in her own time and way out of the public eye if so be it) were required/ demanded to take second-place to the public emotions she was expected to evidence...and that no matter how personally unnatural such (grief-stricken) 'emotionalism' might well have been to the Queen irrespective of the close relative who'd died, and obviously especially so in view of her own well-documented ever-so-fraught personal relationship in times past with Princess Diana.
Yes indeed, the things we do for (and to secure) 'peace' with one and all, and so as to avoid any undue offence or upset, even thus effectively denying who we really are, of putting on a mask/public persona and pretending to be someone we're really not. The way, indeed, that sales representatives and the like are so often encouraged nowadays to 'fake it until you make it', for example acting as if one believes something until by so doing long and enthusiastically enough one ultimately comes to believe the very sort of thing/s one once did not. But just as we are told that 'all is fair in love and war', so the ever-incessant demand these days to please public sensibilities no matter how personally antithetical to one's very being and/or anathema to one means that anyone seeking 'to thine own self be true' has to either ultimately be just that or compromise with and effectively give in to the sort of persona that the public-at-large would prefer to see. And thus and so the royal family were obliged to be untrue to themselves 'in the greater public interest'.
Yet the question will ever remain - as an inescapable backdrop against that unforgettable 'scene' and snapshot in time, in vividly-remembered shared world history: is it, indeed can it ever be the right thing to put on an ever-so-accepted public persona when by so doing one thus effectively denies one's very being? For surely - no matter who is involved, for this is a far larger conundrum than one merely facing members of a quaint old institution many today regard as a relic of a bygone era - to thus act a lie is surely the first step on a very slippery slope to such evils as duplicity, deception and deceit, which as 'we all' well know, have ever led to such grave and awful consequences in world history. For, as I suggest, once one sets foot upon that sorry path there is simply no way of knowing where one - and one's fellows, loyally and dutifully following in one's stead - will ultimately end up. And history is surely littered with testaments to that... .
*As a sidenote - and in connection with Part Five (above) - it's interesting to me that upon the very day I wrote (that aforementioned section) Prince William and Kate won their lawsuit against their own present-day equivalent of those erstwhile paparazzi, for photographing a topless Kate while they were sojourning on a tropical Pacific isle. Indeed in court they cited their personal remembrance of that tragic day back in 1997, the newly-minted contemporary paparazzi's actions thus serving to resuscitate bad memories of their own mother's untimely, tragic death; something which will naturally ever remain raw in their very beings.
**As revealed in historical/archival film footage and close-up interviews in a special documentary recently released in New Zealand.
As 'everyone' remembers precisely where they were, so we are told, when an assassin's bullet (or several) ripped through the frame of America's 35th president, and thus finished off 'Camelot' and with it the budding career of America's much-adulated, idolized and popstar-like President "JFK" (as he has been 'immortalized' ever since), who can possibly forget the day/eve(ning) of August 31st, 1997, when in an altogether different manner, but with the ultimate same result, 'the world' 'awoke' to the news that the youthful, famous, adulated and idolized Princess Diana met her own tragic death within a tunnel in Paris. No-one of my acquaintance, of my 'generation', anyhow. No, it was a moment in time never to be forgotten in days, weeks, months, years and decades to come.
Did that necessarily mean that each one of us then held the selfsame attitude towards or viewpoint of the cinderella swept up by a royal suitor, of the 'ugly duckling' (in the sense of 'commoner') 'plucked' from obscurity and (metaphorically) replanted in the palace of the (reigning) Queen, or, more precisely, miraculously transplanted into the (figurative) antechamber of the (putative) future king? Not necessarily, and indeed not at all from this pleb's perspective. Yet something was definitely at work.
That something - to my way of thinking (and reflecting) - was crystallized in and through a number of disparate events and occurrences that transpired over coming weeks, some seemingly utterly unrelated: the much-loved pop-song, the chart-busting hit chosen (within days) to be reworked into the funereal strains of an immemorially-beloved dirge to the Princess' memory and sung by the co-songwriter himself at her state funeral; the unforgettable speech of Diana's brother, giving the paparazzi in particular and (British) tabloid media in general a right royal serve to the proverbial, at selfsame service; the relative glare of publicity (or rather, lack thereof) given to another equally famous woman who likewise passed away, exactly one week on - in altogether different circumstances - on literally the other side of the globe; plus of course the remarkable, even extraordinary melodrama(s) subsequently played out across the Western world (especially) as crowds of adulators, well-wishers, and the deeply grieving turned out in literal hordes to give their own personal respects to the memory of a person who had - via the all-enveloping tentacles of the modern media - long since been embraced to their very 'bosoms' as their very own 'Princess Di'(ana) - as a modern-day reincarnation as it were of the goddess Diana so beloved of the Gentile masses the New Testament's preeminent Apostle Paul 'encountered' as he criss-crossed the then known (pre-European) world of his day.
Indeed as I reflect upon that time (and event) there are literally so many indelible memories surrounding those events and others in their temporal vicinity, including some intensely personal (and grief-wracking in and of themselves), as well as apparent synchronicities, 'coincidences', felicities and other such things that I not only can hardly contain myself from sharing, feeling metaphorically close to exploding therewith, but it's quite literally hard to know where to even begin; so, in an ironic twist, I'll leave off here for the present...
Many Apologies That I've Only Now Re-continued This Savagely Abridged Blogpost At the Very End of August 31st, 2017 - U.K. (i.e. Greenwich Standard Mean) Time...but such is life, as they say.
Part Two: A Prophet Without Knowing It
I'm choosing to resume here at what might appear an odd point, but it ties in with much of the rest that I'm due to share: a beloved old, classic LP, Elton John's and Bernie Taupin's much-acclaimed and well-selling 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road'. For, one simply couldn't have written a better 'introduction' to the untimely demise of Elton's good friend Diana than appears in the first three songs on side A of that classic two-record LP. It's almost - to my way of thinking - beyond (normal) belief, in fact, so eerily and unmistakably do those three songs point not only to Lady Diana Spencer's death but to Elton John's own - and the Western world-at-large's - reaction to that tragic passing.
So, you rightly query, how so? Well, song number one is the incredibly-titled 'Funeral for a Friend', and did EJ perform a special item to the memory of his long-time friend at Diana's state funeral, or what? And sure, he was invited, or rather requested, to alter the graphic imagery of another of his songs (chronologically, #3) from that LP - his one-time chart-topping hit, 'Candle in the Wind' (about 'Norma Jean', aka the famous actress and mistress of JFK himself, Marilyn Monroe) - thus reconfiguring it as 'England's Rose', to make it acceptable to a general audience at said occasion, yet it was still effectively that classic Candle in the Wind whose memorable lyrics resounded as a background echo in the ears of many TV (and on-site) listeners/viewers, (as with myself), I've no doubt whatsoever.
And on that particular score, I find it personally equally fascinating, intriguing again beyond belief or everyday 'coincidence' that that classic song (of Elton John's and Bernie Taupin's) was the very one which came - completely unsought - to my own mind, within mere days after Diana's death and certainly prior to media report being made that EJ had been even touted as a possible special guest, let alone officially chosen to perform his unique musical item at her funeral service. (Curiously I can even remember exactly where I was when that thought first came to me, driving my Mum's (and at one time my own) 'old' Toyota Starlet just up from the Roslyn shopping centre!)
And after Funeral for a Friend Taupin/John then feature the little-known accompaniment (to Funeral for a Friend) known as 'Love Lies Bleeding'. "What?", you understandably exclaim, barely able to credit the irony yourself. I can only add: "I fully agree; with knobs on, to boot!" Need I full out the relevant detail? I mean, really?
And so side A of Elton John's (and Bernie Taupin's) undisputed greatest (as in most popular and generally-acclaimed) LP, 'Beyond Yellow Brick Road', itself contains an almost prophetic/'forth-telling' outline of the very scenario which ultimately played out on the fateful day of August 31st, 1997. Yes, at a funeral for a very close friend, the 'legendary' Princes Diana Spencer, whose own generally and much-lauded love for the world (and especially its unfortunates, whether aids' victims at home or land mine victims abroad) now both metaphorically and literally lay bleeding in a limousine within a Parisian tunnel...as it came to an untimely and tragic end not of its own making...Diana's one-time friend Elton John sang a song, 'England's Rose', *which captured the very spirit of her life and times and personality and character, to a world-at-large in equal measure of grief which could only echo within their own hearts a sense of 'Right on, buddy; right on!' You've nailed it down to a literal 't'.
*Most of whom perhaps, like myself, held within themselves the actual lyrics of the original song, Candle in the Wind, whose very words themselves so vividly and graphically and unmistakeably painted a verbal portrait of the person whose life was so abruptly cut short upon that fateful day.
To Be Continued...
Saturday eve (September 2nd) NZ time
Part Three: Reading the Hearts of the Self-Appointed Critics As An Open Book
Having thus dealt extensively with the main (and, it seems to me, rather unique) 'thing' that struck me at the time, let me now 'posit' some additional observations: some (involving Diana's brother Earl Spencer, as well as another famous woman on the world stage) 'hitting' me powerfully mainly 'then and there'; another (vis-a-vis the seemingly unprecedented mass outpouring of grief) both then and thereafter; and the last occurring to me the other day as I viewed (at a thankfully earlier time slot, the second occasion shown within a week or so) a special new two-hour documentary featuring some 'exclusive' reflections of sons (and princes) William and Harry in particular, alongside the likes of then famously popular new British Prime Minister Tony Blair and others in the wider royal 'entourage' and community.
The special funeral highlight for this (free-lance) journo and longtime close media watcher and critic - though Tony Blair's rendition of the famous New Testament 'love' chapter, 1 Corinthians 13, and Elton John's 'performance' of his reworked Candle in the Wind, 'England's Rose', constitute pretty close seconds - was a brilliant, incisive and bitterly scathing speech by Diana Spencer's South African-based brother, Earl. Transitioning almost seamlessly and without further ado from a deeply moving, from the depths of the heart eulogy to his sister's character and lifework, Earl launched into a full frontal assault upon initially (and primarily) the paparazzi - who'd arguably literally chased and hounded Diana to her death in the French tunnel - through to the tabloid press who'd dogged her steps for literally decades; making her life a virtual misery, affording both her and her beloved kids no real privacy whatsoever, so constantly and incessantly and unremittingly did they bedevil her/their steps and every move. Finally, in a finishing 'flourish' perhaps more addressed to the media in general, or at least 'royal commentators', he left some of us speechless with amazement as in one pithy, poignant sentence he summed up his 'beef' in a nutshell, in the process arguably embracing modern-day journalism and media in one fell swoop (in spirit, anyhow, even if his literal words could hardly be transposed in their entirety to fit all situations without adjustment).
Earl Spencer, wielding his verbal sword, *concluded by firstly mentioning how his sister hadn't, indeed could never understand why said media always sought to put some negative connotation upon, to give some less than flattering interpretation to, the good works and deeds she habitually engaged in. But she - and he - finally were simply unable to avoid the inescapable realization and conclusion that "those [habitually] in the moral gutter were simply unable to understand those at the opposite end of the moral [continuum]". Needless to say, the service was scarcely over before selfsame media readily turned their sights upon a new-found target, Earl Spencer himself, adopting those selfsame methods and modus operandi in a newly-fashioned determined to now discredit him, sadly eventually seemingly succeeding therein as, after the soon breakup of his own marriage, they proceeded to drag his name through the mud in a wretchedly successful attempt to wreak utu (Maori for revenge or vengeance) upon the man who'd presumed, who'd had the sheer audacity to question the moral judgement, the very ethics and character, of these self-appointed 'guardians' of 'the truth'. And sadly, by their very silence on the one hand, and readiness to propagate such titillating scandal against Earl Spencer's good name and reputation on the other, the Western media-at-large subsequently joined in the hate fest at his expense, proving yet again - as if it had been necessary - the original veracity of his frankly unanswerable critique.
Some words of Scripture come uninvited now to my mind, and I'm glad they do, they sum up the aforementioned situation perfectly, in so many ways. Firstly the words of Jesus' beloved Apostle John, who after detailing Jesus' private audience with Nicodemus, a member of the Jewish Supreme Court, the Sanhedrin, then concludes with some remarks Jesus then made:
And this is the condemnation [judgment], that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one that doeth [practiseth] evil [bad things] hateth the light, neither cometh to [unto] the light, lest his deeds should be reproved [detected]. But he that doeth [worketh] truth cometh to [unto] the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God." (The Newberry Bible: John 3:19-21)
And in words that I've long since used as both the title, and indeed the entirety of my message, in another blogpost, the 'gospel prophet' of the Older Testament, Isaiah, gives a strong warning to all those, like our modern-day media, who so often venture upon such forbidden ground themselves:
"Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; That put darkness for light, and light for darkness." (The Newberry Bible: Isaiah 5:20)
I don't believe Princess Diana's brother Earl could have put it better himself.
*My profuse apologies to Earl Spencer for of necessity paraphrasing his words somewhat liberally here, but I'm sure I've contained the great gist of his denunciatory remarks and moreover their cutting tone and spirit.
To Be Continued...
Sunday (Father's Day, NZ time) September the 3rd
Part Four: So What Made All the Difference - Between Princess Diana's Death and Some Others; In Particular, Between That of the 'Queen of Hearts' and That of the 'Missionary to the Poor'?
Perhaps I was one of the few to notice, and moreover note the fact, that the then two most well-known and respected women of that time died within a literal week of each other. *Incredibly - and perhaps the reason for my so observing this - was the fact that the death of my much-beloved Grandma two months earlier itself occurred precisely one week before the death of my then closest friend's own Mother. As I reflected upon this, and then heard almost exactly my own thoughts then echoed by a **talkback host, then a fairly rare breed (bring back the day!), a day or two later, my thoughts naturally turned to considering/assessing just what really had made all the difference. The conclusions I came to were actually pretty simple, even obvious, but nevertheless I felt and still feel worthy of note.
I realized that Mother Teresa, whose death did actually result in a state funeral also, I believe - or at least one broadcast 'simulcast' to the world-at-large, and certainly attended by some fairly high-ranking, prestigious dignitaries (of both church and state, from both India and elsewhere) - differed majorly from Princess Diana's in just two essential but very significant respects: the relative lack of publicity and fuss 'n bother, of 'big-noting', given to the 'saint to the guttermost', alongside the comparative absence of the sort of unstinted outpouring of grief so evident (at least Western) worldwide with Diana; and the particular characteristics of the two women that evidently caused this to be.
So what really made all the difference in how media treated the two, or reacted to their deaths? Well, excuse my 'tactlessness', but whereas Diana was youthful (though rapidly aging - like all of us), rich, and possessing much (worldly) power and prestige/influence, ***plus of course glamour (that intangible element of 'charm'), Teresa lacked all of the above...to the nth degree. Yes, while I do accept and readily concede that the response could easily be explained in terms of the obvious fact that whereas Diana died awfully young, and so of course hugely prematurely, Mother Teresa had lived a very long life, and so was nearing her end anyhow. Yes, fair enough on that particular score.
But Teresa was not only getting on in years, she was poor as the proverbial church-mouse, and utterly lacking in personal or political power and prestige, not to mention superficial charm, glamour and glitter Yes, let's just say she lacked the 'good looks' and personal 'sexiness' so extolled to the rafters these days; especially by a media totally enmeshed in and fixated upon the 'wonders' of the female physique and moreover its attractions to the other half of humanity. Quite frankly, nothing else could possibly account for the relative 'treatment' of these two female ****'icons' of recent generations, though they were both undeniably women whose lives had a tremendous impact in their relative spheres upon those of their fellow human beings in our modern (pre-'9/11') world. That much is surely incontestable.
*Even more incredible to me was that all four deaths - of significant women (in our various lives) - occurred, I believe, if I remember rightly, upon Saturdays and/or Sundays (depending upon one's hemispherical location).
**Perhaps it was a fellow named John McDonald, long since having moved on from his then position with Newstalk ZB to the then Radio New Zealand frequency.
***Though as I reflect in depth I cannot help but include one additional quality, one which, whether truly possessed by Diana or otherwise, was widely perceived as so being. This 'quaint' quality of 'innocence', I at least firmly believe, was undoubtedly one of the greatest secrets of her popularity and/or universal appeal.
****Perish the awful cliche-ridden term!
Monday/Tuesday September the 4th/5th
Part Five: Dianaphilia Runs Rampant: How the Phenomenon of Dianamania Became A Global Pandemic
We now approach the very heart of this blogpost, a 'thing' I've deemed dianamania - or dianaphilia; both newly-minted terms, as far as I know, anyhow...and both seeming - to my way of thinking - to accurately, even graphically, describe the phenomenon under consideration/examination...and in a way nothing else either does or even can. For within minutes, even moments after the news got out - was spread abroad - we suddenly had what can only be deemed a psychological phenomenon, whereby people throughout the world - Westerndom, anyhow - were being reduced to grief previously unknown, certainly virtually unheard of. And grief moreover for someone - however (superficially) beautiful/attractive, glamourous, charming - whose involvement in our own personal, day-to-day lives had ever been only vicarious, mediated for us through that beloved 'icon' of modernity variously known as the idiot box, the kiddie manager, or simply the television set, or TV. That is, for the great majority of onlookers, anyhow, - i.e., all those (the vast majority of us) who'd never ever personally known Diana - beyond perhaps a cursory crowd glance or word, or at most a handshake.
People were quite literally stopped in their tracks, and within a short time became obsessed (with), even seemingly 'possessed' by this happening...as if they'd quite literally taken leave of their senses; thus suspending all normal, proper, rational judgment. That someone they'd (generally) never even met, much less personally known - except vicariously, c/o the ubiquitous 'idiot box' - should somehow have the innate/inherent power to mold and reshape their lives and emotions...and moreover cause deep-seated grief and heartfelt, incapacitating mourning - spoke veritable volumes, if not encyclopaedia!
And so, when, as the very latest documentary-makers upon the death of Diana have cited, various individuals and couples were randomly approached and interviewed over days (and weeks) subsequent to the Princess' death, very strange reactions were cited, such as where one 'wag' later stumbled upon divulged he hadn't even had such intensity of grief for his very own wife when she'd died! Such types of responses were obviously far more befitting the deaths of close personal relatives and friends, and grief reactions thereto which one would certainly expect from those closest and dearest to them; but not the sort of responses one would normally have to the death of total strangers, leastwise from folk who'd never even known them to begin with! But of course this was precisely what we saw upon Diana's death - all across the world.
It was a phenomenon whereby the vast majority of not only ye average Jane and Joe Bloggs, but supposedly rational, serious commentators even - to virtually a man and woman - seemed completely 'taken in', 'under the spell' of intoxication, infatuation, bewitchment, hypnosis; dispossessed, however momentarily, of their own free wills; swept up in a global obsession, addiction, even dare I say it, mania. Well, I dare do so, despite myself admittedly also being carried off, carried away by this obsession, this mania, which I'd now like to term 'dianamania' or 'dianaphilia'. But I was not the first or necessarily the most insightful or perceptive, to notice let alone name or identify it; that distinction seems to have belonged to one very *courageous individual alone, even if he was perhaps accompanied, either then or subsequently - however unbeknownst to myself - by many other opinion writers and the like.
That person was well-known New York-based socio-political critic Christopher Hitchens. He was, as I say, and far as I'm aware, the first person to both identify this new concept and moreover 'call it out' for the dangerous psychological phenomenon it undoubtedly had become, and just as - in fact even more - importantly, to subject it to the sort of critique for which he is famous; and for that he deserves full credit, though much more so for being prepared to hang out on a limb with virtually the whole world against him.
To say that with Princess Di's unexpected demise people were suddenly caught up in a chord of public sentiment previously unknown is clearly an indisputable truism. It was indeed one in which (summing up all I can still recall of Hitchens' observations and analysis) people globally, or at least 'Westernwide', for the moment took leave of their rational faculties and were swept up in pure, unadulterated emotionalism. Something Hitchens understandably considered a dangerous thing, no doubt vividly recalling how similar outbreaks of mass hysteria throughout the previous 20th-Century had seen masses of people in various places caught up in socio-political movements, and, in 'temporarily' even losing possession of their rationality and higher reasoning powers, had become a prey for tyrants and megalomaniacs alike, great oppressors who had used and exploited these folks' naivete and gullibility to further their own often diabolical ideological agendas.
Yes, such mass movements, however initially innocent-seeming, had oftentimes, even regularly morphed into something much more sinister, and, like the mass hysteria with which sports fans and fanatics at times have 'lost their senses' in utter pandemonium, 'harmless' emotion' and well-meaning sentiment have quickly, rapidly transmogrified into what can only be described as rebellious, chaotic anarchy engendered by mass brainwashing or crowd-induced hysteria; whereby died-in-the-wool loyalty to one's beloved, be it a sports team, a political party, a nation, a popstar or the like, or even a special family member or friend whom one has **put upon such a pedestal as to esteem as almost godlike, can simply do no wrong.
It is a 'condition' whereby one becomes possessed by a kind of reverse anthropomorphism, and instead of a 'conception or representation of a god as having the form, personality, or attributes of man; ascription of human characteristics to what is not human', as my ever handy Chambers Concise Dictionary defines 'anthropomorphism' itself, the definition (in Dian's unique case) here becomes reworked as follows: the conception or representation of a human being as having the form, personality, or attributes of a god/dess; ascription of god/desslike characteristics to what is not a god/dess. Need I say more?
Yes, just as Earl Spencer noted at Diana's funeral, whereby "the one (i.e. Diana) with the name representing 'the huntress' [of ancient Greek mythology] herself eventually became 'the hunted' ", people in our day [i.e. during that mysterious period of universal grief back in 1997] became - if unwillingly and unknowingly, even subconsciously - themselves wrapped up in that selfsame phenomenon; a mania, as recorded in the annals of the Book of Acts in the New Testament, which also apparently struck the crowds in an amphitheatre in the great Apostle Paul's day. No, just as 'we all' didn't do what the hateful ***paparazzi got up to, ultimately pursuing, virtually hounding and harassing Diana to her very death, the Greek multitudes at that time themselves got wrapped up in the selfsame thing we encountered back in 1997, in which, for three long hours, nothing could be heard over the ongoing shout of the spectators: "Great is Diana of the Ephesians!" Her godlike status simply could not be questioned; it was a cardinal principle of that society, and anyone in any way seeming to challenge it was (literally) shut out, as if their view of matters was irrelevant; unwanted it most assuredly was!
Yes indeed, Princess Diana's death was a singular event, a psychological study in human nature, worthy of a varsity paper even - a snapshot in time, now enshrined for time immemorial in peoples' hearts. Yet what a light it cast, it shone - and continues to shine - upon modern-day (Western) humanity, a 'people' having summarily eschewed anything and everything making pretense to Godlike status while actually eagerly, desperately seeking solace in anything and everything which will effectively substitute for such in their hearts and lives; living in conscious denial of a reality they really inwardly crave and cannot live without!
The very severity/intensity of peoples' grief responses/reactions were simply out of all proportion to both the importance of the event to both life and the universe in general and to their own lives in particular. Nothing else can account for let alone explain this except to label it indeed as a singular psychological phenomenon; and one unparallelled in most of our lifetimes. It was an event whereby the mass of (at least Western) humanity was caught up in a wave of mass hysteria more associated with extreme ideologies and sports fanaticism, and surely better befitting a ****more worthy object.
*Because to remark that Mr Hitchens was, almost from word go, subjected to intense and at times even vituperative, public criticism and moreover opprobrium as a result of his singular critique, is to considerably understate matters.
**For a singular treatment of this phenomenon, i.e. of cultish 'groupthink' - although unavoidably, inevitably that very (latter) term of course instantly 'conjures up' [conveys as if from the dead by a necromancer] George Orwell, celebrated author of not only 1984 but the equally brilliant and epochal Animal Farm, since he, by first utilizing and skillfully employing this very term - far as I know - has pretty well singlehandedly brought this phenomenon into widespread public awareness - one likewise cannot go wrong by also referring to C S Lewis' equally brilliant The Four Loves, where he unveils all the many and various dangers inherent in it.
***According to my Chambers Concise Dictionary, the correct word is 'paparazzo': 'a photographer who specializes in harassing famous people in order to obtain photographs of them in unguarded moments.'
****By this last comment I intend no reflection upon Diana Spencer personally, only to signify that such adoration and indeed adulation has traditionally been seen as not only wholly inappropriate for mere mortals, for everyday, fallible human beings, but likewise only truly appropriate for a Being considered to be God. It was verily something Earl Spencer and other eulogizers at Diana's funeral, moreover, readily conceded about her, indeed a major part of her appeal, enabling multitudes to personally identify with her through all her very many human failings and foibles.
To Be Continued...
September 12th, 2017
Part Six: Afterthoughts on A Life Lived In The Public Spotlight: Expectations of British Royals' Attention To 'Duty' Vis-a-vis Grief
*On this other day (Northern Hemisphere Time, Anyway) upon which 'everyone' graphically remembers exactly where they were and what they were doing when another major international 'incident' occurred, i.e. '9/11' as it will ever be 'immortalized', it seems appropriate (if more by chance than intentionally) to wrap up with some curious, but significant, reflections upon the royals' own **reminiscences of that decisive day back in 1997 in which their own lives were irreversibly altered.
Essentially the dynamic of the conundrum involved, for on the one hand Queen Elizabeth herself, and on the other for the two young royal princes, William and Harry, was between their own understanding of their rights to personal grief or otherwise as opposed to public expectations of their duty (or even grief) at such a time. And thus 'Queenie' was essentially panned/pilloried 'from pillar to post' for not showing sufficient grief and/or the sort of emotions 'everyone else' was experiencing, and thus it was accordingly both expected, indeed positively demanded of the Monarch herself and British Monarchy Incorporated, that she likewise, effectively not be allowed to grieve - or not/otherwise - i.e. in her own, private, personal, self-chosen way.
Meanwhile, in a position that can only be described as the polar opposite of the dilemma facing Elizabeth, William and Harry confessed in this latest close-up, in-depth doco that though wanting to grieve away from the public eye (as their own personal, private emotions seemed to best dictate) - indeed as any kids prematurely deprived of a very beloved mother would naturally be expected to want to do - without any recriminations whatsoever, they pretty soon realized (as with Queen Elizabeth the Second) that this would be ultimately unacceptable to the British public, and so eventually resolved to 'bite the bullet' and shun emotion in favour of duty.
And thus the two young princes' genuine, legitimate emotional responses were effectively shelved (for the time being) in favour of (their expected) public duty, whereas the Queen's right to attend to her own private duties (embracing personal grief in her own time and way out of the public eye if so be it) were required/ demanded to take second-place to the public emotions she was expected to evidence...and that no matter how personally unnatural such (grief-stricken) 'emotionalism' might well have been to the Queen irrespective of the close relative who'd died, and obviously especially so in view of her own well-documented ever-so-fraught personal relationship in times past with Princess Diana.
Yes indeed, the things we do for (and to secure) 'peace' with one and all, and so as to avoid any undue offence or upset, even thus effectively denying who we really are, of putting on a mask/public persona and pretending to be someone we're really not. The way, indeed, that sales representatives and the like are so often encouraged nowadays to 'fake it until you make it', for example acting as if one believes something until by so doing long and enthusiastically enough one ultimately comes to believe the very sort of thing/s one once did not. But just as we are told that 'all is fair in love and war', so the ever-incessant demand these days to please public sensibilities no matter how personally antithetical to one's very being and/or anathema to one means that anyone seeking 'to thine own self be true' has to either ultimately be just that or compromise with and effectively give in to the sort of persona that the public-at-large would prefer to see. And thus and so the royal family were obliged to be untrue to themselves 'in the greater public interest'.
Yet the question will ever remain - as an inescapable backdrop against that unforgettable 'scene' and snapshot in time, in vividly-remembered shared world history: is it, indeed can it ever be the right thing to put on an ever-so-accepted public persona when by so doing one thus effectively denies one's very being? For surely - no matter who is involved, for this is a far larger conundrum than one merely facing members of a quaint old institution many today regard as a relic of a bygone era - to thus act a lie is surely the first step on a very slippery slope to such evils as duplicity, deception and deceit, which as 'we all' well know, have ever led to such grave and awful consequences in world history. For, as I suggest, once one sets foot upon that sorry path there is simply no way of knowing where one - and one's fellows, loyally and dutifully following in one's stead - will ultimately end up. And history is surely littered with testaments to that... .
*As a sidenote - and in connection with Part Five (above) - it's interesting to me that upon the very day I wrote (that aforementioned section) Prince William and Kate won their lawsuit against their own present-day equivalent of those erstwhile paparazzi, for photographing a topless Kate while they were sojourning on a tropical Pacific isle. Indeed in court they cited their personal remembrance of that tragic day back in 1997, the newly-minted contemporary paparazzi's actions thus serving to resuscitate bad memories of their own mother's untimely, tragic death; something which will naturally ever remain raw in their very beings.
**As revealed in historical/archival film footage and close-up interviews in a special documentary recently released in New Zealand.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
A Belated Obituary to singer extraordinaire Glen Campbell: his kind will most assuredly not pass this way again; no, not ever
How it's taken me a full two weeks (exactly, I believe) to get around to this is a sad reflection upon my state of being at present, but be that as it may...
Glen Campbell's death - though long expected, including by myself, even only a couple months if that previously, when mention of him by the esteemed Jim Mora of Radio New Zealand National immediately distressed me into thinking he'd died then - shouldn't really have taken any of us by surprise, as he'd struggled with the gruesome and progressively worsening Alzheimer's Disease for well on half a dozen years or so. Yet when it finally 'arrived' two Tuesdays ago (I think) it carried an ironic and somewhat bitter twist for me.
You see, I'd long determined...though as a chronic procrastinator, or more accurately and aptly, a lifelong over-committer, I simply hadn't *gotten around to it...to having a special gospel LP played at my own funeral (on my behalf, whenever that so happened to be/transpire), throughout the 'event'; but simply have never gotten onto adding that 'proviso' to a long-intended update in my will. Said album contains half a dozen songs per side, the timeless GC-versions of Standing on the Promises, What A Friend We Have In Jesus, Softly and Tenderly, Sweet Hour of Prayer, I Surrender All, and The Lord's Prayer upon side A, and tall Oak Tree, Sweet By And By, I See Love, Farther Along, In The Garden, and Suddenly There's A Valley, on side B (in that particular order). At least side one could be played through in its entirety from start to finish...yes, that much is this 'testator's' own wishes, let one and all be well assured!
His hits - sure, invariably (pretty much all I believe) written by others, especially the brilliant Jim Webb, became his own masterpieces, as if he'd created them entirely himself...though perhaps that's more a reflection upon how the visible one gets all the glory...and the one toiling on his or her lonesome in the background invariably gets little of the limelight, much less the deserved glory... . Our (i.e. Aotearoa-New Zealand's) Government's cheerleader-in-chief, the narcissist par excellence known as Mike Hosking of Newstalk ZB and Seven Sharp infamy and shameless self-promotion, nevertheless - though in an entirely unrelated context - tonight summed up the scenario I'm seeking to convey by stating, in a little verbal interchange with his co-host Toni Street, that "if you can't do something yourself, then get someone else to do it for you". Which of course is what the likes of Jim Webb and Bernie Taupin did with heir respective hits which Glen Campbell and Elton John respectively have carried on to heights of fame and fortune.
Yes, America's inimitable Glen Campbell sang all these (aforementioned gospel greats) with passion and commitment, with melody and harmony, with grace and poise, with style and uniqueness - a brand all his very own. And as for his myriad of celebrated hits/hit singles, it'd literally be hard, well-nigh impossible even, to list them all...were one that way so inclined...and as my readership well knows by now, on a better day (at a much earlier time of the day), I well might - I wouldn't put it past myself, anyway, let's say...
Nevertheless let's try - a little - anyhow...though upon second thoughts, with shuteye well-and-truly not only beckoning, but veritably screaming at me now, I'll forgo that little luxury, except to say that, though like many I very enjoyed the likes of Wichita Lineman, Where's the Playground, Susie, and Galveston - and even the sometimes pilloried Rhinestone Cowboy - my all-time favourites were GC's state-of-the-art versions of three songs in particular: He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother; (From) Both Sides Now; and topping even those two, or at least the former...Try A Little Kindness...which simple but profound song I recall singing loudly on various occasions as my way of 'getting my own back' upon the injustices and moreover the particular perpetrators thereof that I've occasionally found my footsteps dogged and my life bedeviled by. Preaching at such folk as if to tell them there's a way of life much better and higher and more noble and glorious way up beyond the petty, insular and self-serving spheres in which they themselves seem to continually operate.
A disclaimer I must inevitably bring myself to make here, lest I somehow thus (even seem to) align myself with a style of music that quite frankly I normally don't even have the time of day...much less night - for, is that I've never - at least consciously, let's concede (for the record) - even remotely been a fan of country music per se... . And yet for me Glen Campbell - and John Denver, for that matter - raised that particular musical genre to an art form and position of greatness only equalled (in my lowly estimate) in other musical spheres by, on the one hand, kids' songs of special memory and cherishing such as Flick the Fire-Engine, HR Puf 'n Stuff, Puff the Magic Dragon, The Magnificant Men in Their Flying Machine, and yes, even - shock, horror - Snoopy's Christmas, on another by such classic 'operatic' love songs as Oliver's I'd Do Anything and Where is Love, the Sound of Music's Edelweis, and Mary Poppins' Feed the Birds, on another by Ed Ames' Love of The Common People, and - last but certainly not least - by that grand duo of yesteryear Art Garfunkel and Paul Simon. Oh yes, and Jules Riding, Randy Stonehill and Keith Green - and Amy Grant.
Yes, enough again already - I know. Though in concluding I really can't help myself in noting the predictable way in which Glen Campbell's passing was barely noted in the media - in comparison, that is, with such other celebrated singer-songwriters as David Bowie (and even the insubstantial Minneapolis' 'Prince') awhile ago ...let alone such overrated singer-songwriters as the idolized-to-the-rafters Michael Jackson, who I'll concede did in his tender youth compose and make famous the beautiful 'Ben'...I used to play on the family piano. . No, as with (on a much more modest scale, please understand) the way in which Mother Teresa's death was passed over in a once over lightly fashion by Western media - but certainly not in her new-found home of India where she was given a state funeral - a week after Princess Diana's shock death brought the Western world pretty well to a standstill; so the youthful Jackson and 'Prince' - like other songsters who've died very young, 'before their time' - were doted on by media for days on end, the fourth estate verily feeding off the entrails and carrion of their lives much like the proverbial vultures devouring a carcass choice morsel by choice morsel, contrasted with the way in which GC also was treated to a once over lightly and asap by selfsame media.
No, the relative alacrity with which Glen Campbell's unique genius vanished into obscurity, the 'clean-cut conservative' of simple, old-fashioned values not really being or representing the sort of person our contemporary culture esteems as worthy of very much (remembrance let alone celebration), except for the briefest of reviews as already described, was 'el usual media' treatment eminently unbefitting of GC's special brand of greatness...which simply flowed out of the sort of decent and God-fearing human being he ever was...
But be that as it may, and indeed as Diana's brother Earl Spencer himself noted (or at least in my own paraphrase thereof) - among many other equally memorable things - in his simply unforgettable if highly controversial obituary speech at her funeral, the truly great don't actually need others' acclamations and plaudits to add any lustre to their greatness...for, to all who will (have ears and eyes to hear and see) it's patently clear and evident anyhow... .
So good-bye Glen, and thank you to his family - and moreover Maker - for lending him to us for awhile...he not only won't pass this way again, but I somehow doubt we'll see his kind again...ever. More's the pity.
*Cf my oldest sister's unforgettable t-shirt (or whatever, I can't quite remember) emblazoned with that memorable phrase 'a round tuit'.
Glen Campbell's death - though long expected, including by myself, even only a couple months if that previously, when mention of him by the esteemed Jim Mora of Radio New Zealand National immediately distressed me into thinking he'd died then - shouldn't really have taken any of us by surprise, as he'd struggled with the gruesome and progressively worsening Alzheimer's Disease for well on half a dozen years or so. Yet when it finally 'arrived' two Tuesdays ago (I think) it carried an ironic and somewhat bitter twist for me.
You see, I'd long determined...though as a chronic procrastinator, or more accurately and aptly, a lifelong over-committer, I simply hadn't *gotten around to it...to having a special gospel LP played at my own funeral (on my behalf, whenever that so happened to be/transpire), throughout the 'event'; but simply have never gotten onto adding that 'proviso' to a long-intended update in my will. Said album contains half a dozen songs per side, the timeless GC-versions of Standing on the Promises, What A Friend We Have In Jesus, Softly and Tenderly, Sweet Hour of Prayer, I Surrender All, and The Lord's Prayer upon side A, and tall Oak Tree, Sweet By And By, I See Love, Farther Along, In The Garden, and Suddenly There's A Valley, on side B (in that particular order). At least side one could be played through in its entirety from start to finish...yes, that much is this 'testator's' own wishes, let one and all be well assured!
His hits - sure, invariably (pretty much all I believe) written by others, especially the brilliant Jim Webb, became his own masterpieces, as if he'd created them entirely himself...though perhaps that's more a reflection upon how the visible one gets all the glory...and the one toiling on his or her lonesome in the background invariably gets little of the limelight, much less the deserved glory... . Our (i.e. Aotearoa-New Zealand's) Government's cheerleader-in-chief, the narcissist par excellence known as Mike Hosking of Newstalk ZB and Seven Sharp infamy and shameless self-promotion, nevertheless - though in an entirely unrelated context - tonight summed up the scenario I'm seeking to convey by stating, in a little verbal interchange with his co-host Toni Street, that "if you can't do something yourself, then get someone else to do it for you". Which of course is what the likes of Jim Webb and Bernie Taupin did with heir respective hits which Glen Campbell and Elton John respectively have carried on to heights of fame and fortune.
Yes, America's inimitable Glen Campbell sang all these (aforementioned gospel greats) with passion and commitment, with melody and harmony, with grace and poise, with style and uniqueness - a brand all his very own. And as for his myriad of celebrated hits/hit singles, it'd literally be hard, well-nigh impossible even, to list them all...were one that way so inclined...and as my readership well knows by now, on a better day (at a much earlier time of the day), I well might - I wouldn't put it past myself, anyway, let's say...
Nevertheless let's try - a little - anyhow...though upon second thoughts, with shuteye well-and-truly not only beckoning, but veritably screaming at me now, I'll forgo that little luxury, except to say that, though like many I very enjoyed the likes of Wichita Lineman, Where's the Playground, Susie, and Galveston - and even the sometimes pilloried Rhinestone Cowboy - my all-time favourites were GC's state-of-the-art versions of three songs in particular: He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother; (From) Both Sides Now; and topping even those two, or at least the former...Try A Little Kindness...which simple but profound song I recall singing loudly on various occasions as my way of 'getting my own back' upon the injustices and moreover the particular perpetrators thereof that I've occasionally found my footsteps dogged and my life bedeviled by. Preaching at such folk as if to tell them there's a way of life much better and higher and more noble and glorious way up beyond the petty, insular and self-serving spheres in which they themselves seem to continually operate.
A disclaimer I must inevitably bring myself to make here, lest I somehow thus (even seem to) align myself with a style of music that quite frankly I normally don't even have the time of day...much less night - for, is that I've never - at least consciously, let's concede (for the record) - even remotely been a fan of country music per se... . And yet for me Glen Campbell - and John Denver, for that matter - raised that particular musical genre to an art form and position of greatness only equalled (in my lowly estimate) in other musical spheres by, on the one hand, kids' songs of special memory and cherishing such as Flick the Fire-Engine, HR Puf 'n Stuff, Puff the Magic Dragon, The Magnificant Men in Their Flying Machine, and yes, even - shock, horror - Snoopy's Christmas, on another by such classic 'operatic' love songs as Oliver's I'd Do Anything and Where is Love, the Sound of Music's Edelweis, and Mary Poppins' Feed the Birds, on another by Ed Ames' Love of The Common People, and - last but certainly not least - by that grand duo of yesteryear Art Garfunkel and Paul Simon. Oh yes, and Jules Riding, Randy Stonehill and Keith Green - and Amy Grant.
Yes, enough again already - I know. Though in concluding I really can't help myself in noting the predictable way in which Glen Campbell's passing was barely noted in the media - in comparison, that is, with such other celebrated singer-songwriters as David Bowie (and even the insubstantial Minneapolis' 'Prince') awhile ago ...let alone such overrated singer-songwriters as the idolized-to-the-rafters Michael Jackson, who I'll concede did in his tender youth compose and make famous the beautiful 'Ben'...I used to play on the family piano. . No, as with (on a much more modest scale, please understand) the way in which Mother Teresa's death was passed over in a once over lightly fashion by Western media - but certainly not in her new-found home of India where she was given a state funeral - a week after Princess Diana's shock death brought the Western world pretty well to a standstill; so the youthful Jackson and 'Prince' - like other songsters who've died very young, 'before their time' - were doted on by media for days on end, the fourth estate verily feeding off the entrails and carrion of their lives much like the proverbial vultures devouring a carcass choice morsel by choice morsel, contrasted with the way in which GC also was treated to a once over lightly and asap by selfsame media.
No, the relative alacrity with which Glen Campbell's unique genius vanished into obscurity, the 'clean-cut conservative' of simple, old-fashioned values not really being or representing the sort of person our contemporary culture esteems as worthy of very much (remembrance let alone celebration), except for the briefest of reviews as already described, was 'el usual media' treatment eminently unbefitting of GC's special brand of greatness...which simply flowed out of the sort of decent and God-fearing human being he ever was...
But be that as it may, and indeed as Diana's brother Earl Spencer himself noted (or at least in my own paraphrase thereof) - among many other equally memorable things - in his simply unforgettable if highly controversial obituary speech at her funeral, the truly great don't actually need others' acclamations and plaudits to add any lustre to their greatness...for, to all who will (have ears and eyes to hear and see) it's patently clear and evident anyhow... .
So good-bye Glen, and thank you to his family - and moreover Maker - for lending him to us for awhile...he not only won't pass this way again, but I somehow doubt we'll see his kind again...ever. More's the pity.
*Cf my oldest sister's unforgettable t-shirt (or whatever, I can't quite remember) emblazoned with that memorable phrase 'a round tuit'.
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