England’s Green and Pleasant Land
‘These are the lawns we are fighting
To defend madam’ said Churchill.
And I am the product of three hundred
Years of history. It’s so shit.
And everything I love best is built on sin.
I walk around the National Gallery
Blown away by not only the
Fabulous paintings, but the
Exquisite frames, the technology
That allows them to be maintained
And preserved; and most of all the
Startlingly beautiful and majestic gallery
Itself. Temple of culture, dazzling architectural
Construction built with classical vision and
With money we can only dream of.
Why when years ago I first began to
Observe how ugly all our modern buildings
Are, why did people tell me that the classical
Was out of fashion, or that these days we
Had no imagination left? Why did no one
Tell me the plain and simple truth, that with
No Empire, no stealing from other peoples,
No slavery, we can’t possibly afford all that
Marble and gilding, all that oak and plasterwork.
There simply isn’t the money, and never
Will be. Why didn’t someone say so?
I thought once that museums, galleries,
Theatres, the copyright libraries,
That all these were innocent pleasures,
The country houses, formal gardens,
Lawns and sprinklers to keep them green,
That all this was not only delicious and
Cultured, but stainless. How naïve.
All this bright side of our coin has a
Filthy underside of suffering, of money
Made from those with cheaper weapons
Who couldn’t defend themselves.
Of walking off with land and wood
And everything you can think of,
That wasn’t ours to take. That this
Golden age of building like Rome was
Based on Roman style imperialism,
Slavery and vandalism. That it was
Fashioning palaces with stolen gold.
And I am as guilty as the rest,
Everything I love and cherish all
Based on cheap labour somewhere
I can’t see it, past and current crimes,
Building my own Eden at other’s expense
As we all are.
Up to my elbows in other’s blood and tears,
As every plastic ice cube is shipped
From some dark factory polluting
Someone else’s river in China,
And all the velvet cushions so affordable
Are made by child labour who knows where.
And some woman said to Churchill
In the War, - why are not the quads in Cambridge
Given over to growing vegetables?
Madam, he replied, it is lawns like these
We are dying to defend. And I understand.
So asinine! So futile and Alice in Wonderland!
But so absolutely true and what we are
And what I am; so strangely right.
What do we do, what can I do?
But treasure everything we have, not waste
Or throw away, take care of things,
Buy nothing you don’t undertake to love.
And be grateful wandering round all those galleries,
Those museums, knowing that it’s not your birthright
Because nothing in this world is.
Yet knowing it is your right because you are
English, and that’s part of what it means.
And somehow, making a commitment
To making sure it’s not all take.
I can’t make sure that every country, every tribe
Has the means to have a National Gallery
On this scale, and all that goes with it. But I
Can be grateful, and never take it all
For granted, and keep insisting that we
Take no more that isn’t ours, and try to
Scale it down, begin to fashion some way to say
We cannot give you replicas of all we have,
There is no money left, but you must not
Go without the necessaries of life, we must
Attempt at least to repair some of the damage
We’ve done, not merely build on it and think
Of different ways to shaft you or avoid the issue.
And then respect you when you don’t want a
National Gallery, but some other means of
Expressing your collective heritage and identity.
Don’t patronise others when they don’t want what
We have, just be grateful! And make sure we
Are always willing to share – bar destroying it –
What we have. And I know people that
Would say, well then, just give it up and sell
It off! But no, I say that too would be a sin
Against the spirit, now we have built all
These lovely things.
I don’t know the best way or the answer,
If indeed there is one. I just know we act
Ungratefully, and take things for granted,
Waste stuff, waste food, and throw too much
Away, take everything as a right when it’s really
A privilege. And despise people when they do things
Differently, when if we all did things the same,
There’d be nothing left! Treat it as a gift,
And maybe then it will make you happier.
And happy people enjoy helping others,
Because it makes them happier.
And if I’m talking crap, then why are the three
Things cited in surveys of what makes
People happy – dancing together, singing
Together, and voluntary work? I think that tells you
Something about what makes us tick. And in that
Is my hope that we can do some justice.
Because I don’t want to fight for our lawns,
But to deserve them.