Twelve Necessary Men

In the wake of the Vicky Pryce fiasco there are, I think, going to be those who will question the legitimacy of juries and the jury system. After all, we are one of the few countries on the planet to trust the business of upholding the law to “twelve good men and true”. France, for example, long ago gave up on juries in favour of judges making the decision about innocence or guilt. Some people have already suggested that we should go down the same route.

I’m not a big fan of this idea.

I will admit that the questions posed by the jury in the Pryce case – for example, “are we allowed to speculate on what the accused might have been thinking?” and “are we allowed to base our decision on evidence not presented in court?” – weren’t the best questions ever. I mean, I’m only a journalism student with a very small understanding of British law and even I know those aren’t brilliant questions.  But the point still remains that if ever I find myself accused of a crime I would rather have twelve, not incredibly bright, but everyday sort of people, deciding my fate than a judge with thirty years of legal experience behind him.

This is not to say that I believe that judges have no place in the English legal system, because they obviously do. We need someone with legal expertise and a knowledge of precedent to ensure that a trial is conducted properly and to decide what the sentence is going to be when a person is convicted. But when someone is charged with trying to decide whether I am guilty or not, I want someone with the human touch, not someone coming at it from a purely legal perspective.

This is what I call the Twelve Angry Men principle. In that film if it had been left up to the judge I suspect that based on the purely circumstantial evidence presented, then the accused would have been found guilty and executed. But because there was a jury involved they were able to review the evidence from an outside perspective, bringing in their own experiences, knowledge and understanding of social situations and were able to prove the boy innocent. If ever I was accused of a crime, either falsely or legitimately, that is the way that I would want my fate decided, by twelve people with no preconceptions, no bias. Of course I know that’s not how it is (everyone is biased), but a guy can pretend.

I can understand why people will be suggesting that we need to get rid of juries if the jury in the Pryce case are representative of all juries. But even if they are, I still maintain that it is the best system that we have come up with for deciding whether someone is guilty of a crime.  It’s certainly better than leaving it up to one man and trusting him to make the right decision. In the end, I would feel much more comfortable in the role of jury, rather than the position of executioner.

Murder with a side of Sexism.

I would have loved to have been in the editorial meetings at the Sun and the Daily Star on Thursday. As the news of Oscar Pistorius and his girlfriend came through the wires, there must have been intense debate over how best to present the news. A picture of Pistorius being led away by police perhaps? Or an image of the famous Blade Runner crossing the finishing line at the Olympics, both captioned with a perfectly pithy headline?

“Hang on,” someone will have then said, “She was a supermodel. Why don’t we use a picture of her in a bikini?”

“Isn’t that a bit inappropriate?” someone else will have said.

“Nah,” the first guy will have said, “They are public domain pictures. No harm in using them.”

The problem is that there is quite a lot of harm in using them. Not only is a young, attractive woman dead, shot by her world famous boyfriend – and please let the record show that at no point did either paper, use her name. She was simply “Oscar Pistorius’ girlfriend” – but they were now reducing her to something to be ogled at. Not a person. Just a body.  This is ironic as the day before the tragedy occurred the Sun was calling out an Italian magazine for publishing pictures of the Duchess of Cambridge in a bikini.

But all of this is symptomatic of a larger issue. When a major national newspaper can use topless models as a unique selling point, we should not at all be surprised when they pull something like this. In the mass media, it has long been recognised that sex sells. If you want to sell something to guys, then put a picture of an attractive woman on the label, and watch it fly off the shelves.

This however means that we reduce women down to the sum of their parts. What goes on underneath the surface doesn’t matter. Reeva Steenkampe was not just a body and a pair of breasts. She was a human being with her own dreams, her own opinions. Yes, she may have been beautiful, and she may have been a model. But that was not all that she was.

The media and the world as a whole, have objectified women, and yet at the same time, call them out when they dare to dress attractively. We ogle them on Page 3 and yet when a rape is reported in the news, one of the first comments will usually be that she was asking for it or should have dressed more decently. We both praise women for their sexuality and demean them for it.

With the news that Rupert Murdoch is considering axing Page Three from the Sun, it is possible that the media has begun to realise that the way we have been portraying women for so long is no longer appropriate. But when front pages like this  are still published, it seems like the message hasn’t properly sunk in just yet.

A Gentleman not a Lad.

I like to think of myself as a gentleman. Not in the top hat wearing, Bertie Wooster sense of the word, but in the more general sense. Even though I don’t always succeed, I make an effort to be polite to everyone, and to respect those I disagree with. That’s why the discovery of the sites LADBible and UniLAD make me want to throw something through a window.

For those of you who have the good fortune not to know what those sites are, count yourselves lucky and stay as far away from them as possible. I looked through them in the course of writing this piece and by the end I not only wanted to tear my own eyes out, but had a deep and burning disrespect for some members of my own gender.

A hold over from the mid-nineties lad culture, both of these sites are full of the type of immature banter, sexist jokes and encouragement of casual drunken violence that also permeates such magazines as Nuts and Zoo. However my problem with them stems not so much from the stereotypical image of guys  - especially university guys – that they promulgate, but from their opinion of women.

Regularly referred to as “wenches” (a phrase I was fairly certain had fallen out of use in about 1776),  according to these sites the only thing women are good for is sex, and the only thing that matters about them is where they fall on some imagined scale of attractiveness. Now I am far from a patriarchy destroying feminist, but as a gentleman with many female friends this view both disturbs and disgusts me.

Considering it’s been around ninety years since women were first given the vote in the United Kingdom and considering that  one of our longest serving Prime Ministers was a woman, these sorts of opinions and comments should really have gone the way of the dodo. Every girl I know is sharp, articulate and has a wide range of interests and opinions. Even the ones who do enjoy cliché things such as shopping are fiercely intelligent and I would never even consider viewing them as mere objects put on earth for my use.

This idea seems to stem from the idea of male privilege. That is, because males have been the dominant  gender for the majority of human history, we are therefore at an advantage in society and more important. While it is true that men do have an advantage, I would never consider myself superior to anyone solely because I was born male. To suggest that men are superior to women just because they are men, is like suggesting that brunettes are superior to blondes just because they brunette. It’s stupid and has no basis in fact.

Fortunately for me, the majority of my male friends seem to feel the same way and treat women with the respect that they deserve. But the fact that this “lad culture” still holds sway over anyone is a fact that seriously needs to be addressed.

 

Unremakably Unstable

In between the on-going events in Syria, the hoo-ha in Mali and the Prime Minister flying out to Algeria to deal with the aftermath of the hostage crisis, I wouldn’t be surprised if this particular news story passed you by.

According to the Zimbabwean finance minister, Tendai Biti, for a brief period between paying its public servants and receiving an influx of revenue, the former British colony had a mere $217 left in its coffers. That’s a mere £138. I’m a student and I have more than that.

The reason I would not be surprised if you didn’t hear about that story is that Zimbabwe does not get very high profile coverage in the news. This is despite the rampant corruption, and violent incompetence of long term President Robert Mugabe. The reason that Zimbabwe doesn’t get much coverage? Because for a country permanently on the edge of collapse, to the rest of the world it seems relatively stable.

Even at the point where Zimbabwe was going through a period of German style hyperinflation, and people were taking home wages in wheelbarrows, there was never the type of violent revolution that would have swept other countries in similar situations. This may have something to do with the stranglehold that Mugabe has over the country, but even so, the lack of relative instability, even in the direst of  circumstances, is something to wonder at.

It has long been a personal opinion of mine that something should be done about the situation in Zimbabwe, but it is unlikely that any politician would be willing to get involved in yet another swampy African conflict, even disregarding the fact that getting forces there would be nigh on impossible. Britain especially is unlikely to get itself involved in a conflict in Zimbabwe, unless Mugabe actively began shooting civilians live on television. The spectre of ancient colonialism looms large and the scars of it run even deeper.

According to friends of mine in Zim however, it is not the current political situation that worries people, but what happens after Mugabe eventually either steps down or dies. If a member of the ruling Zanu-PF party takes power after him things could go from bad to worse. Right now Zimbabwe is experiencing the dictionary definition of “better the devil you know” and no one is particularly keen for that situation to end any time soon.

As mentioned above, I have my own opinions regarding Zimbabwe, mostly to do with having a personal connection with the country. I long for someone to sit up and realise that now is the time to do something about bringing real democracy to the place. However I understand as well all the reasons why it can never happen, or at least won’t happen for a while. But every time I hear a news story such as the one that prompted this article I do find myself wondering if those reasons – however valid they maybe – should be set aside, and something actually done, to help the people of Zimbabwe.

What if I'm not strong enough?

“Loves like a hurricane; I am a tree, bending underneath the weight of his love and mercy.”

But what if I’m not strong enough to bear it? What if I’m not strong enough for him?

God is so large and I’m so small. He is the creator of the universe and I’m me. We aren’t even comparable. On any scale imaginable.

He promises so much and his promises are great. But I’m scared. Scared of failing him, scared of not being good enough. Scared of not being strong enough to do what he needs me to do. And I know in my heart that this is stupid. Because I don’t have to be strong enough. He is strong enough for me. He can use me in my weakness. All I have to do is trust in him. But that leads to another thing I’m scared of.

I’m scared of letting go. Scared of surrendering all of me to him, and diving into the unknown. No matter how many times people tell me it will be alright, no matter how many sermons I hear on just trusting in the Lord, I still doubt a little. There’s still a voice in the back of my brain doubting that he will catch me when I fall. So I don’t. I cling tightly to the things I know, and try to control my own life. Then I feel bad about it. Yet I still remain too scared to let go.

But what am I supposed to do? I pray for answers, I ask for patience or help or just to be able to trust God a little more and yet I still fall into the trap of expecting answers immediately. When I don’t get them, I get even more downhearted. It’s a vicious circle that I can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard I try.  I seek to understand him better, but just become more confused. I long for the surety of others. The confidence that comes from him and helps them do his work. I long for it will all my heart and soul. Yet still I find myself lacking.

What am I supposed to do now? Where do I go from here? What is my next step supposed to be, when every step is exhausting and there seem to be a thousand miles to go to find answers? When every day feels like a battle that I’ve already lost?

I don’t know. I honestly don’t. And if anyone was reading this because they feel the same way sometimes and were hoping for answers, I’m sorry because I don’t have them. But if anyone does feel the same way, and felt like they were alone, like they were the only ones who felt like this. Who thought that everyone else had it sorted. You’re not. Others feel exactly the same way that you do.

I may not have answers. But maybe, we can find them together.