Barbara Woodhouse: stormtrooper

I have a bad dog. He’s bad to the bone. With bad dogs, talking is not enough. To avoid future disaster you must be firm.

So I tie my dog up. Keep him in one position, preferably half-standing, half- sitting. Not so his legs will break or anything, but just so that after the first hour he starts to whimper a little. I tell him he’s a bad dog. I say ‘tell’. I mean ‘shout’. Sometimes I cover his eyes, sometimes I cover his whole head with a bag and pour water over it. He usually freaks out a little, barks like crazy (not a good idea when you’re tied up) — probably thinks he’s going to die. But then he probably thinks that when I pretend I’m going to let a bigger dog bite him. Dogs are so stupid. But if you’re going to get results you have to deprive them of light and sound for hours, exposing them to uncomfortable extremes of temperature. Isn’t that what Barbara Woodhouse advised in her book ‘Sit! Or I’ll Kill You’?

Please don’t start writing a letter. The dog has not been harmed. In fact, it doesn’t exist. It’s a metaphor. And I will do whatever I please with my metaphors. That’s what they’re phor. Ahaha.

You’re horrified? Well how do you feel about interrogating terror suspects? Because what I mentioned above are just some of the approved methods of interrogation (not torture) officially employed by the USA, our partners in the war on those who would attack the values and principles of our society. Actually last week they announced ‘waterboarding’ (making prisoners believe they’re about to drown) is no longer allowed. Progressive.

Last week saw two prisoners released from Guantanamo Bay. Hallelujah. But it also saw one of our senior politicians trying to move us closer to our American allies in terms of how much we limit rights and freedoms to fight terror.

Last week Italy started legal proceedings against some local officials and several CIA operatives who allegedly kidnapped people from Italian soil as part of ‘extraordinary rendition’ (it’s kidnapping, not just bad karaoke) to countries with a more permissive attitude towards torture. The Americans are being tried in absentia. What’s odd is that I haven’t heard too many voices here calling for their extradition to Italy. Strange. The previous week, when we were talking about Andrei Lugovoy (the alleged Litvinenko killer), Vlad Putin was given rather a hard time about it all.

And last week also saw the Scottish parliament agree to examine evidence for similar complicity in kidnappings on our own soil. A CIA spokesman said last week that there were many myths about the war on terror. He did not, however, provide an answer to groups such as Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International or New York University’s Centre for Human Rights about why 39 people listed as having been detained for terror questioning have disappeared. That’s a lot of news. Odd that there’s no page for this on the Sun’s Sun Justice campaign area.

Why do I mention all this? Because I think we care more about dogs than we do about human beings. Because if half the things happening to ‘persons of a middle-eastern appearance’ who’ve been found guilty of no crime were happening to puppies, it would be on the front page of the Sun and many of us would have demanded it was stopped.

But hey, I’m a Christian. So this year I only really care about climate change and human trafficking. In the absence of a rally or petition I’m off to walk my metaphor.

(No dogs were harmed in the writing of this column, but I did torture an Afghan. Is that okay?)

This is Sparta? (or: The Danger of films with number-titles)

‘Our arrows will blot out the sun,’ says a Persian messenger to a Spartan captain. The Spartan responds with one of the coolest lines in all of cinema: ‘Then we will fight in the shade.’ At this point every man watching 300, the recently released stylized gore-fest that retells the story of the 300 Spartans who died at the battle of Thermopylae, wants to stand up, cheer and beat his chest (and possibly the guy next to him).

Despite what some say, the problem with 300 is not historical inaccuracy. I’m sure if we take a step back and do our research we’ll discover that Persia was in fact ruled by a mad transvestite giant with rings through his cheeks. And soldiers who looked alarmingly like ninjas. Really.

The film’s message, however, is truly disturbing. 300 is, essentially, a very slick and enjoyable piece of fascist propaganda for the Al Qaeda age. Might is right. Negotiators are pansies. Violence is better than diplomacy. People from the middle-east are very naughty indeed. And, of course, ugly people can’t be trusted. These are the valuable lessons of the film. In defence of ‘freedom’, any means are acceptable, even desirable. And audiences of US Marines and teenagers have lapped it up.

If you’re currently scratching your head and thinking: ‘that’s all very well, but if I wanted a movie review I’d have bought hideously over-priced popcorn and enough sickly sweet soft-drink to actually bathe in (and read the paper next to one couple in need of a room and a 12-year-old in need of a gag)’—don’t worry. This is still a news column. (And anyway, what kind of freak simulates the cinema experience to read reviews? Poorly thought-out, Langley.) 300 actually made news last week because some journalists strongly dislike films that beat the war drum. And because Iran dislikes what it’s doing to their image (abducting British sailors, apparently, makes them look like John Travolta). But showbiz politics have been elsewhere in the news of late, in the form of tv show 24 and whether it condones torture. Costa Gavras, whose film about atrocities in the French-Algerian war opened the Human Rights film festival last week, thinks it does. Does that mean we should not watch 24, 300 or indeed any film with just numbers in the title? I don’t think so. But protecting your mind is not just about porn, violence and cussing.

Films like 300 often promote an insidious and appealing philosophy: ‘if you want to make an omelette, you have to break a few eggs. And torture some people.’ Politically and practically this probably makes sense, like killing your enemies. But as Christians, the philosophy that the end justifies the means, which is currently so popular in fighting our bogeymen, is one we must not just reject, but recognise everywhere it is hidden.

Last week, for instance, we learned that the US administration deliberately let the conflict between Israel and Lebanon, in which many hundreds of Lebanese civilians were killed, continue without speedy calls for ceasefire. The reason? It was hoped that the result would be a defeated Hezbollah. ‘What was wrong with that?’ quipped former US Ambassador John Bolton. But if it’s okay to break some Lebanese eggs for the sake of the omelette of Israeli security, what of the omelettes of animal rights, Palestinian freedom, Ulster self-determination or even Lebanese safety? Do some ends really always justify any means? Torture, suicide bombs, civilian collateral damage and nuclear strikes might fit into a Spartan ethic and on occasion might even appeal to me, but I find it hard to picture Jesus advocating them any more than the Spartan code of 300: ‘only the brave, only the strong.’

Foreign revolutions: funny

Foreigners, eh? They’re hilarious. It’s not just their funny accents and pronunciation (I’ve just been to Spain and the number of times I had to say: “actually it’s hallo” to every “Ola” I heard was ridiculous). Their politics, too, are funny. Take for example last week’s news that Hungarian Prime Minister, Ferenc Gyurcsany, announced that his government had been lying “morning, noon and night” about the state of the economy. Those crazy Hungarians took that news so badly they rioted. That’s the thing about foreigners: fiery tempers. And it’s not confined just to Hungary, either.

Thailand last week suffered from a similar case of the crazies. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression that after just one night in Bangkok the world actually becomes your oyster. That should make you pretty relaxed. And yet last week the head of the Thai military, General Sondhi, staged a bloodless coup, deposing Prime Minister Thaskin Shinawarta (who was away being foreign at the time). Does that sound relaxed to you? No. And why was General Sondhi so agitated? Just because the PM’s human rights record boasts an impressive 3,000 extra-judicial killings and he sold one of his nation’s greatest assets overseas, making himself a £1billion tax-free profit in the process. And just because widely accepted allegations of government corruption were leading to more and more spontaneous protests. Now is that any reason to change governments? More than an overreaction, it seems impatient, even – dare I say it—impolite.

Obviously, we in Britain would never bow to the will of the people in the way it has happened in Thailand, because we believe in Democracy. And we would never go bananas like they did in Hungary, because we understand moderation. The difference between us and them is obvious from our own news last week. When an asylum seeker in Britain killed himself last week just to spare his son from the awful conditions of Yarl’s Wood detention centre or being sent home to possible death in Angola, we didn’t riot. When a British serviceman pleaded guilty to charges of torturing Iraqi captives in 2003 through starvation, kicking, beatings with iron rods and forcing prisoners to drink their own urine, (which led to a death in custody) last week, did we riot? Of course not. These were the actions of a few bad apples and nothing to get upset about. That’s why, when campaigners highlighted the case last week of a Canadian who was kidnapped, tortured for a year and released without charge by a few bad apples, we behaved with dignity and decorum. We’re like that. Even at a time when our ally, President Bush, is trying to relax torture laws in his country (presumably with the aim of reducing the number of bad apples by changing the definition of the term).

So, even if for Hungarians just the revelation of a government lie results in riots, and unethical business dealings can spark a military coup in Thailand, in the West, politicians have learned that you’re going to have to torture, kill and drive a lot more people to suicide before you get our attention. Then, and only then, will we admit that there is anything wrong with the way we do things. Even we Christians, who in the past so rigorously challenged our own society on issues such as slavery seem to be content to limit the scope of our protests to mass-produced post-cards and the occasional march; and the scope of our interest to safe topics like poverty. And a good thing, too. Anything else would be foreign.