Anyone who believes British Muslim hostility to the war in Iraq is the big motivator of terrorism should read the fascinating cover piece by Shiv Malik in the latest edition of Prospect. Investigating the background of the 7 July London bombings for a television drama (which the BBC, of course, eventually rejected as ‘anti-Muslim’), Malik found how Wahhabist Islamism did its work. Ten years ago, it took hold of the young Mohammad Sidique Khan. It was he who eventually led the suicide plot. What emerges from Malik’s inquiry is that Islamism, far from being a ‘mediaeval’ doctrine, as it is often described in the West, can be seen by its adherents as enticingly modern. One of the great issues among Pakistani immigrants here is whom they may marry. Their families usually uphold marriages arranged in the interests of tribal kinship. Islamism told Sidique Khan, who wanted to marry an Indian Muslim from a different tradition for love, that it was Islamic to do so. It was on this issue, in 2001, that he broke irretrievably with his father, and spent the rest of his life almost solely in the company of fellow jihadists. And I gather from other sources that, just as we are all deploring imams who cannot speak English because they will be anti-British (probably a broadly true proposition in itself), the Islamists are generally the ones quickest to publish their material here in English, conscious that potential recruits may well have forgotten Urdu, or never learnt it. To young men trying to shake off traditional family restraints, but with little loyalty to their surrounding white culture, Islamism can seem like a sort of liberation theology. The problem runs too deep to be caused or cured by foreign policy.
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Belatedly, there is much discussion about how the authority of Parliament could be restored. No one has mentioned the ‘Le patron mange ici’ principle, but it is a very important one in all organisations. If David Cameron becomes Prime Minister, he should immediately attend the Commons diligently and restore the custom of answering Prime Minister’s Questions twice a week. Tony Blair reduced it to once a week, and Mr Cameron will be advised to stick to this to save time. Actually, the heavy preparation needed is good. A prime minister who has to do this homework keeps abreast of what colleagues are feeling and what is bothering the public. And for the Commons, the Tuesday and Thursday jousts would bring back two
much-needed things — drama and topicality. I wonder if Gordon Brown will beat David Cameron to it, adjourning self-consciously to the tea-room afterwards.
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The Victory Services Club in Seymour Street is a friendly institution which should be better supported. It is more or less the ‘In and Out’ for Other Ranks, and is a good place for ex-servicemen to stay and meet in central London. I found myself in its basement last week for a touching dinner to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the Falklands victory. Lady Thatcher was there, and so was Sara, the widow of H. Jones VC, ex-members of the War Cabinet and distinguished veterans. Michael Nicholson, who reported the war for ITN, recalled the long wait on the tank deck of HMS Fearless, for the landing in San Carlos. The men were all cramped in the half-light, listening to shooting outside and not knowing where it was coming from. They had recently been shown (strange choice) the film Gallipoli, and were nervous. Suddenly, a sergeant-major called out, ‘Nowaks, stand up!’ A short, burly Marine rose. ‘What’s that you’re wearing on your chest, Nowaks?’ ‘It’s a bra, sir?’ ‘Why are you wearing a bra?’ ‘Me girlfriend give it to me, sir, to remind me what I’m fighting for.’ ‘If you come through this, Nowaks,’ shouted the sergeant-major, ‘I’ll pin a medal on that bloody bra.’ This incident got all the men in the right mood for the trouble ahead. But the Marine, poor Michael Nowaks, was killed two days before the fighting ended.
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Given the endless controversy on the subject, it is rather surprising that ITN have not yet shown an interview recently conducted by their correspondent, James Mates, with the captain of the Belgrano, the Argentine cruiser sunk by a British submarine during the Falklands. In this interview, Mates asks the captain, Hector Bonzo, whether it is true, as the British state and critics deny, that his ship posed ‘a real threat’ to the task force. Bonzo says: ‘Yes, I agree with that statement. I think we posed a real threat … we never had any intention of going back to shore; we were only waiting for the right moment to act.’ These words prove nothing — the captain might be self-aggrandising — but they should surely be broadcast.
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None of us — yet — knows the minds of the jury in the Conrad Black trial, which is now drawing to a close. But an interview with a juror who withdrew from the case in Chicago suggests a doubt about the guilty verdict for which the world’s media have been greedily clamouring. The jurors may be asking themselves why a criminal court should be adjudicating a dispute about how to run a business. It is a good question.
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We lovers of liberty are opposed to the coming smoking ban, but there is a lesson here about how liberty disappears. The widespread support for the ban surely does not come from health fears. The passive smoking argument which, in strict public policy terms, is what has carried the day, is only half-believed. The real reason is the sense that, for as long as anyone can remember, smokers have shown bad manners to non-smokers. Millions feel their clothes have been made to smell and their eyes to prick and their throats to tickle by people who never really asked their permission. In the 19th century smoking was an activity permitted only in certain specific places and company. If it had stayed that way, the demand for a ban would always have been weak, but once people started to smoke absolutely anywhere, resentment at this rudeness grew. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ became a question which, if asked at all, virtually assumed the answer ‘no’. The ban is revenge — misguided but understandable.
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More Bromo scholarship. Simon Courtauld, who is writing the biography of Pam Mitford’s husband, Derek Jackson, confirms her admiration for the paper. On
8 May 1945, she wrote to her sister Diana Mosley: ‘It’s VE Day and the Bromo has lasted.’ Others remember fondly the way the packets displayed the product’s medailles d’or (‘Highest Prize Awarded by the Paris Exposition 1878’). Sir Richard Rougier writes: ‘Speculation as to how the judging had been conducted set the imagination racing.’
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