Sunday, 22 December 2013

What Scotland’s ‘White Paper’ Says About Democarcy.


The Scottish National Party (SNP) revealed their plan for Scottish independence earlier this year in the form of the ‘White Paper.’ This 650-plus page document has only added more questions to the independence debate.

Also recently, Professor Will Storrar – a visiting Scottish Presbyterian theologian and a world leader in public theology – gave a talk at the University of Otago based on this same issue of Scottish independence.

Meanwhile, the Anadarko Petroleum Corporation continue testing for oil and gas deposits off the Otago coast despite public protests.



Who’s Independence?


The whole point of Storrar’s talk was to emphasise that the Referendum is not a matter for the political parties, but for the everyday people of Scotland to decide. But what does it mean for the people of Scotland to decide their future? What does that mean for any people anywhere?

In an age where commerce dominates almost every concern, and when both campaigning sides must be well-funded and therefore must necessarily have vested interests, is it even possible for people to have any ‘independent’ say in their future at all?

At the heart of the Scottish question is the more universal question of whether or not democracy actually works anymore. If it doesn’t, what alternatives are there?

Democracy or Aristocracy?


The first Scottish constitutional referendum was held in 1979. The issue then was whether or not to set up what at that time was to be known as a Scottish Assembly, which would deal with legislative matters in areas such as education and health.

The Scottish voted 51-49% in favour of the idea. The majority won, but this was still ignored by Westminster due to a clause which stated that unless 40% of the total electorate voted in the referendum the vote would fail.

As the writer Philip Temple observed in the Otago Daily Times, are referendums even viable if politicians can decide if and when to honour the results? Is that democracy? If our vote can ultimately be ignored by an elite who know better, isn’t that rather an aristocracy?
Aristotle, Plato and Socrates. The classical philosophers distinguished democracy, aristocracy and monarchy as three alternative models of government. The danger of a monarchy is that the single leader can become a tyrant; the danger of aristocracy is that it can become an oligarchy; and the danger of democracy is that it can become  a 'mob rule' situation.

Power Corrupts . . .


The Scottish Parliament was eventually established but it wasn’t long before it was used by individuals promoting their own special interests. It showed once again that those in power  weren’t really concerned for the everyday people at all – and this time it wasn’t so easy for the Scots to blame Westminster. A similar situation has occurred with Welsh political devolution too.

So what’s new this time around? The drive for independence may seem like a glorious new vision for the future of Scotland but already there are tell-tale signs that exactly the same kind of treachery is already afoot.

For example, the SNP have always been staunchly anti-nuclear. An independent Scotland would boldly banish Trident from its base on the Clyde. However, in the White Paper they now announce that NATO ships would be allowed to use Scottish ports without having to declare whether or not they were carrying nuclear weapons.

This policy has been determined not by and for the people of Scotland but by and for the United States. According to The Spectator, “American military sources have made it clear that they would resist Scotland’s entry to NATO without an assurance that they could continue to use Faslane for their own Trident submarines.”

Black Gold, Old Story.


And of course, we haven’t even touched on Scotland’s untapped oil resources, estimated to be worth at least 120 billion pounds. The Scottish government's oil and gas analytical bulletin of March 2013 estimated that remaining North Sea oil and gas reserves had a combined wholesale value of 1.5 trillion pounds.

Is there anyone left who could possibly believe that this much money won’t affect the long-term outcome in Scotland? And just think what drilling for oil off the coast of the Otago region might do to New Zealand’s ‘democracy.’ They can take our oil but they’ll never take our freedom?

Personally I’m not so optimistic.

‘Fugitive Democracy.’


For all his necessary restraint in the face of secular pluralism, at least Professor Storrar had something positive to point to. He advocated the ‘fugitive democracy’ described by political philosopher Sheldon S. Wolin, where people spontaneously mobilise to protest against the powers that be, and win.

In the information age, people are mobilizing more easily. They’re also better informed on these kinds of issues. The passion is there, as the Occupy Movement showed. And the Arab Spring showed us just how powerful this kind of ‘fugitive democarcy’ can be.

The task is to nurture the civic conscience of society, according to Storrar. “The voices of conscience,” he said, “are always being stifled, through the media, and ultimately by more repressive means. And yet, and yet, the voice of conscience will not be silent, from Edinburgh to Dunedin.”






       


Sunday, 24 November 2013

Comparing Welsh and Maori Poetry.

What right do I have to write about the experience of Maori? It doesn't make much difference that I was in a seven year relationship with a Maori, on the peripheries of, or living with, that culture. My cultural experience in that setting was as a white European looking in from the outside.

You could even argue that I was the 'coloniser' intruding on the 'colonised.' By virtue of my skin-colour alone my whole life experience has been totally different. Well, I accept that's all true - but only to a point. If the shoes I've walked in personally can be taken out of the 'colonising, privileged European' shoe-box, and seen for what they are in the light for just a second, what then?


The Political Situation for Maori and Welsh.

When it comes to my experience as a Welsh person -- a member of an indigenous minority whose native language and culture are under threat -- then the differences are only skin-deep.

The political situation for Maori and Welsh is strikingly similar. As a writer, of course I want to write about these similarities. As a Welsh person I want to extract all the insights I can learn from this common situation and pass it on in the hopes that it might somehow be beneficial to people of any cultural minority anywhere who are experiencing something similar.

I'm not trying to claim Maori culture or the Maori experience as my own. I've never tried to, have never been interested in doing that. What I'm trying to do is compare the two situations so that the bigger picture of what both Maori and Welsh are up against - Anglo-American hegemony - becomes more obvious.


Maori and Welsh, Poets and Poetry.

As a poet writing in English (since like many Maori and Welsh I'd lost my native language through the processes of English imperialism) I was also interested in looking at what Welsh and Maori poets writing in the English language had been saying.

I used post-colonial theory to analyse the work of Anglo-Welsh poet R.S. Thomas and Anglo-Maori poet Hone Tuwhare to see if there were any similar observations, feelings or themes being expressed. Both these poets were born and raised prior to the revival/renaissance of their indigenous culture, and both had struggled for years to learn their native language.

Both decided to write in English because it was the language they were able to use more ably. Both regretted not being able to write their poetry in the language of their own people. Beyond that, yes, there were some pretty big differences on the surface:



Most notably, Hone Tuwhare appeared cheerful most of the time whereas R.S. Thomas was a seriously miserable-looking dude. If you'd like to read what else I discovered in my analysis please read my essay on the subject -- you'll find it at page 103 of this issue of the University of Otago's ezine Deep South.

Portrait of R.S.Thomas used with kind permission of Daf - check out more of his artwork.

Photo of Hone Tuwhare from honetuwhare.org.nz.











Thursday, 19 September 2013

Nationalism vs. Facism Part II


“The little space within the heart is as great as the vast universe. The heavens and the earth are there, and the sun and the moon and the stars. Fire and lightening and winds are there, and all that now is and all that is not.” The Upanishads.

(Read Part One of this post first.)

How can a nation and culture the size of Wales maintain its unique identity and language without becoming exclusive? The best answer I ever heard on this subject was made from a Christian perspective, although it’s not necessary to be Christian in order to believe in and apply its spiritual message.

I came across this idea in A.M. Allchin’s brilliant little gem on the Welsh poetic tradition entitled Praise Above All: Discovering the WelshTradition. The idea centres on the polarity between the biblical ‘myths’ of Babel and Pentecost.

The Babel Myth.




In the Old Testament story of Babel, all humanity comes together in unity. The people build a giant, towering city reaching the heavens. They live there together in the one location and they all speak the same language.  

This is against the will of God, who originally decreed that human kind should “spread out, fill the earth and become many.” God deliberately ‘strikes’ the people of Babel with multiple languages in order to confuse their efforts.

With everyone speaking a different tongue and no one able to understand his or her neighbor, the inhabitants of Babel are no longer able to cooperate effectively. Eventually they disperse to different regions of the earth and become various nations.

The Pentecost Myth.




At the other end of the biblical story, in the New Testament, the story of Pentecost repairs or heals the division originally caused at Babel. Confused tongues are replaced by tongues of fire that float above the heads of believers as they miraculously communicate with foreigners who speak alien languages.

The interesting thing here is that God doesn’t unify people by replacing all the various languages with one universal language. Unity coexists with variety – it doesn’t come through uniformity. The Spirit gives different gifts for each individual.

The harmony this miracle brings thrives in freedom and the tolerance of difference.  It brings out multiplicity instead of seeking to suppress it, continuing the richness of the universe that God has created from the beginning.

This idea of catholicity has been a teaching of the Christian church from the outset. The apostle Paul attempts to explain this unity in diversity with the illustration of the human body. There is one body made up of multiple parts – eyes, nose, arms, feet etc. Each part has its own unique attributes and abilities (‘gifts’) to bring to unified functioning of the whole.

Edau caeth brawdoliaeth dyn, edau ein rhyddid wedyn (In the binding yarn of brotherhood is also the thread of our freedom).” James Nicholas.

Unity in the Spirit.



“The human being is part of the whole, called by us the ‘universe,’ a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separate from the rest — a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.” Albert Einstein.

So it is with the mystical unity of the ‘Church’ (the entire body of Christian believers throughout the ages, despite their being separated by time, distance, race, culture and language). But the Spirit that seeks to unify humanity in this way needn’t be (and arguably cannot possibly be) confined to the sphere of organized Christian religion alone.

Ynof mae Cymru’n un (In me, Wales is one).” Waldo Williams.

Allchin quotes the Methodist missionary John D. Davies in this regard. Davies experienced the meeting of major and minor languages whilst working in southern Africa, where dominant international cultures were imposing themselves upon the many threatened, local, minority cultures. Davies used the Pentecost story to speak in their defence:

“The miracle of Pentecost is not just that people are enabled to understand each other . . . The point is made with considerable emphasis, that communication comes to them not in the international language of the powerful, but in the local languages of family, region, nation . . . This is the heart of the miracle. Our own language, however insignificant in the eyes of the empire builders and powerful advertisers, is claimed as a suitable vehicle for the good news . . . Those who heard the apostles’ words did not only get information about events external to themselves; they also got an assurance of their own value, through the affirming language which shaped their basic perceptions.” John D. Davies, The Faith Abroad.

The language of a people is inseparable from their perception of the world and themselves. The destruction of a people’s language is therefore not only a loss in terms of their identity as a people, but also as people. Welsh nationalism, in so far as it remembers itself within the unity of all humanity, opposes fascism, opposes imposed uniformity. As someone once put it, “the struggle for the Welsh language is a victory for all indigenous languages everywhere.”

Fiat Lingua: Against Uniformity.



“I think one of the greatest threats to the twentieth century, which is symbolized as a well as represented by the threat of nuclear extinction, is that of sameness, uniformity, of seeing all things and all places as if they were one. But the parochial poet can help make the world larger again, and can help us to breathe, can help us to feel the reality of the world in which we live by dwelling upon the particular, by discovering or rediscovering the particular . . . Drawing attention to the reality of any particular place does something rather similar for all other places.” Jeremy Hooker.



“The disappearance of nations would impoverish us, not less than if all men were to become alike, with one personality and one face. Nations are the wealth of mankind, its generalized personalities; the least among them has its own unique coloration and harbours within itself a unique facet of God’s design.” Alexander Solzhenitsyn.






Saturday, 24 August 2013

Nationalism vs. Fascism Part I


Some people are fond of pointing out that forms of nationalism (including Welsh nationalism) and minority language communities are exclusive by nature and therefore divisive. The implication is that if you don’t speak the lingo, belong to the ‘master race’ or if your blood isn’t ‘pure’ enough, then you’re not welcome.

Native language itself can be seen by minority groups as their unique ‘possession.’   In their attempts to guard what they treasure so much (their language and culture) they become snobbish, rude, rejecting or even openly hostile and violent towards ‘outsiders.’

This has been shown to be true in many cases. It is regrettable, but it is not the whole story. It is not the only possibility for preserving an endangered language and culture and it is more likely to bring that language and culture further harm.

The 'Dragon Family' at Varga.


Christianity - Native Culture or Colonising Influence?

In the context of globalism, which offers an optimistic potential for unity, but which in reality more often neuters genuine culture and imposes a sterile uniformity, nationalism can seem backward, ignorant and myopic. This got me thinking again about the tensions and polarities between the specific, unique and local, and the national and global – even the relation between the finite and the infinite.

The Christian tradition – although some non-Christian people may wish to call it an exclusive community, and some Christians may unapologetically wish to claim that it is an exclusive community – offers a possible answer.

St. David, Patron Saint of Wales, window at St. Non's chapel.

In Wales, the nationalist movement until very recently has been inextricable from Christianity. Cultural giants like Saunders Lewis, D.J. Williams, R.S. Thomas and Waldo Williams have been inspired by their personal faith as much as by their love of the language and traditions of the Welsh nation as a whole.

Memorial commemorating the 'burning of the bombing school' by Saunders Lewis, D.J. Williams and Lewis Valentine - an act that was arguably as much religiously-motivated as it was political.  


Inspiration vs. Oppression.

In Wales, Christianity is part of the language and tradition, regardless of who and how many might now like to ignore the fact or suddenly discard it. It was a key ingredient of the civilization which worked to preserve language and culture in the face of barbarian invasion and assimilation from the east.


St. David teaching St. Finian, window at  Clonard church.
 
Christianity, for the ancient Britons, was a unifying hope against the despair induced by encroaching barbarism and the arriving Germanic tribes. It humanised the Britons throughout that dark period of terror and brutality, and caused a flowering of culture throughout the Celtic nations as a whole.

The true message and mission of Christianity was usurped at some point. To begin with, the religion arrived with the colonising Romans, of course, but although imposed by Roman imperialism, this was, in effect, an invasion of civilization as opposed to an invasion of barbarism. New scientific ideas arrived along with it, and literacy in Latin and Greek brought access to the Classics, Greek philosophy and more.



The result was a proto-renaissance in the form of the Celtic Church. The monasteries of the Celtic Church lost their influence, output, and ability to inspire, however, prior to and under the harsh reign of the Normans.

Monasteries and churches were later ransacked through the process of Protestantism. Henry VIII’s Act of Union brought the first explicit attempts to Anglicise Wales. The Christian religion was used as an apparatus of the state in order to bring about cultural and linguistic unity, but this back-fired under Henry’s daughter, Elizabeth I, who allowed a Welsh translation of the bible.

Memorial to William Morgan and Edmund Prys, translators of the bible into Welsh, at St. John's College, Cambridge.


"Y Gwir Yn Erbin Byd."

The religion that has at times oppressed the Welsh has therefore also been a constant support to Welsh identity and a continued source of inspiration for the Welsh as a people. It remained so roughly until the end of the 20th Century.

In the face of globalism, where world religions like Christianity are collapsing as effective metanarratives, besieged by pluralism, must religion now be pulled, like an aggravating splinter, from the entire discourse on minority language and culture?

In the case of Wales, can Welsh identity only be authentically discovered independently of ‘God’ through a more sophisticated atheism, or by shedding the ‘outside influence’ of Christianity altogether? Should the Welsh revert to some neo-pagan revision of Druidism?

Crowned Bard with Arch Druid, Ebw Vale Eisteddfod, 1958.

Or, would a rejection of Christianity create a false Welsh-ness? Surely some cultural hybridity is possible and inevitable, just as Welsh culture has always been influenced by outside ideas, just as the Welsh language, as a living language, is influenced by other outside languages, and just as Welsh ethnicity continues to be enriched by influences from outside the gene pool.

An easy way to answer to the accusation of fascism is to point out that every nation that ever existed was never anything but an aggregate of various ingredients. England is itself an even clearer case of this, and yet having had an imperial agenda (imposing its language and culture onto other nations outside of itself by force) it is perhaps more guilty of something akin to fascism than Wales ever was.

Having arrived at a more universal stage in the history of human kind as a whole, Christianity has shrunk from ‘catholicity’ to individuality: it is a unique world religion which can now only exist amongst a new paradigm or ‘set’ of fellow world religions (Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, Judaism etc.).

Psalter World Map, 1265.


In the same way, Wales can longer remain a space beyond and defined by English borders ('here be dragons,' haha). It is now indisputably a nation within the context of the British Isles, the Celtic League, Europe, and the world.

Does Christianity have anything relevant left to say about that? I’ll explore this question further in my next post.




Friday, 24 May 2013

Shakespeare and the Welsh, Part V


11 Reasons for Shakespeare’s Hidden Welsh Sympathies.

I don’t believe Shakespeare intended to represent the Welsh in a negative light, having reviewed in former posts this month the Welsh characters and connections in Shakespeare’s ‘history plays,’ and especially since discovering that Henry V can be read as an attack on English imperialism.

In fact, I would even go so far as to say that Shakespeare secretly sympathised with the Welsh nation and language – or that he was at least heavily influenced by people who did. Here are eleven reasons why:

1.) Shakespeare’s Welsh Blood.

For starters, Shakespeare’s maternal grandmother, Alys Griffin, was Welsh, which means ‘the bard’ was himself a quarter Welsh. Some early twentieth century scholars even believed that this link to an oral, poetic, Celtic tradition explained Shakespeare’s imaginative and linguistic abilities as a writer in English, although later critics have been more skeptical about this.

2.) Shakespeare’s Welsh Teacher.

Shakespeare had a Welsh school teacher, Thomas Jenkins. According to the eminent Shakespearean Jonathan Bate, Thomas Jenkins had a deep and lasting influence on Shakespeare, teaching him Latin at the King Edward VI grammar school in Stratford upon Avon, and helping to strengthen his growing abilities with langauge.

3.) Shakespeare’s Welsh Workmates.

Shakespeare worked with multiple Welsh actors in the London theatres. For a good part of his career as a writer, he worked with the company known as The Chamberlain’s Men, a group of actors who at any given time consisted of several Welshmen. These actors included Henry Evans, Jack Jones, John Rice (Rees/Rhys), Augustine Phillips and Robert Gough. Hard to imagine these relationships wouldn’t have influenced Shakespeare’s view of the Welsh.

4.) Shakespeare’s Welsh-Aristocrat Patrons.

Shakespeare’s first Folio is dedicated to the Earls of Pembroke, William and Philip Herbert. The dedication refers to the brothers as, “the most noble and incomparable paire of brethren.” Obviously these members of the aristocracy made a big impression – but as his financial patrons, their influence on Shakespeare would have been all the more powerful.

5.) Wales in Shakespeare’s Psyche.

Stratford upon Avon is close to the Welsh border, and there are more Welsh characters in Shakespeare’s plays than there are from any of the other nations which neighbour England. This is notable when you think of the size of Wales. These characters include Sir Hugh Evans in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Captain Fluellen in Henry V, and Owen Glendower in Henry IV Part One.

6.) Shakespeare’s Partly Welsh Monarch.

Shakespeare wrote during the reign of Elizabeth I, and the Tudors owed much to Wales and acknowledged strong roots there. This in itself likely coloured to some extent how Shakespeare depicted the Welsh. Elizabeth wasn’t as bad as her father, but the Tudors seemed particularly fond of decapitating those who offended or inconvenienced them.

7.) Shakespeare’s Welsh Dialogue.

Shakespeare championed Welsh language and identity on stage. Lady Mortimer, Glendower’s daughter, actually delivers all her lines in the Welsh language in Act Three of Henry IV Part One. This is very telling. English imperialists hoped that the Welsh language could eventually be extinguished altogether – so including it in a play whose audience was predominantly English-speaking is in fact remarkable. Though Elizabeth I may have had the bible translated into Welsh, this was primarily intended to increase English influence through the State apparatus of the Church.

8.) Shakespeare’s Welsh Settings.

Shakespeare sets a whole play in Wales. Cymberline is full of Wlaes and Welsh history and most of the action occurs in Wales. In this late romance, the heroine, Imogen, gets lost whilst trying to flee to the West Wales town of Milford Haven (Aberdaugleddau). Aberdaugleddau happens to be in the county of Pembroke, and it is referred to as, “blessed Milford” (3.2.59). Is this again due to the influence of Shakespeare’s patrons, the Earls of Pembroke?

9.) Shakespeare’s Welsh Love Interest?

Shakespeare is believed by many to have been bisexual. Several names have been mentioned in relation to the mysterious ‘Fair Lord’ or ‘Fair Youth’ to whom over a hundred of the sonnets attributed to Shakespeare are addressed. His patron, William Herbert, the Third Earl of Pembroke, is widely considered to be one of the most likely candidates.

10.) Shakespeare’s Welsh Fairies.

The fairies in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream are believed to have been influenced by Welsh folklore. Shakespeare was probably inspired by reading Geraldus Cambrensis’ twelfth-century account of his journey through Wales, written in Latin and published in Shakespeare’s time. The account includes a description of the human-like Welsh ‘fair folk’ – Y Tylwth Teg – whose alternative society, inhabiting a parallel world, resembles the fairy kingdom of Oberon and Titania. English fairies, on the other hand, were insect-like creatures with wings.

11.) Shakespeare’s Quasi-Welsh Theatre?

There is some indication that the Welsh language may have been used interchangeably by The Chamberlain’s Men. The printed text for As You Like It contains a curious word which no one could explain for a long time. Jacques says, “Ducadame,” which makes no sense in English or Greek. However, if the English printer was attempting a phonetic spelling of the Welsh “Dewch gyda fi/mi” (“Come with me”), then the line makes sense within the context and action of the play.





Saturday, 18 May 2013

Shakespeare and the Welsh Part IV


Shakespeare’s Henry V and the Celtic ‘Other.’
(Read Part One of this Series First?)

It’s not just the Welsh who are represented in Shakespeare’s Henry V. There are the enemy French of course, but the famous ‘Four Captains’ scene has also made this play a favourite with post-colonial critics looking at English identity and Englishness as defined by England’s near neighbours. The ‘Four Captains’ are:

·        Gower the Englishman,

·        MacMorris the Irishman,

·        Jamy the Scot, and

·        Fluellen the Welshman.

Writer and historian Christopher Highley says the play as a whole shows, “Shakespeare’s disillusioned ambivalence about the reasons behind and the consequences of England’s empire-building.” It also produces “a skeptical counter-discourse about English expansionism within the British Isles.” What does that mean?

Henry V: A Game of Two Halves.

Basically, the play is set up in the first half as a nationalistic epic. It’s all about England and Englishness and how glorious, right, courageous, noble and manly England is. The nation, under Harry’s leadership, gets stirred up against the French in a similar way to how Britain got stirred up about the Falklands under Thatcher. The army – whose stout yeomen’s arms are ‘made in England’ are almost like a hoard of English soccer fans boarding an airplane to attend the World Cup. The costume designer for The Hollow Crown even had that image in mind.

The scene with the ‘Four Captains’ marks a turning point. Things start to go wrong – it’s harder than the English think and the audience sees that the army is hardly as ‘pure’ in terms of Englihness as everyone assumed at the outset. Shakespeare deliberately throws a spanner in the works of his mostly English audience’s nationalism by showing them how dependent Harry’s army is on Celtic ‘others’ whose nations define England’s borders.

Agincourt: An ‘English’ Victory?

Ireland, Scotland and Wales are not only represented as fighting for England’s cause; they also simultaneously threaten it. At that time in history, Scotland was the most immediate threat – Harry’s gains in France are won by risking a Scottish invasion whilst his army is absent from Britain fighting the Battle of Agincourt.

The conclusion? Shakespeare’s Henry V suggests that England and Englishness is not as mighty and confident as it is at first represented to be. In fact, throughout Shakespeare’s history plays as a whole, the kingdom has been shown to be unstable.

Henry the Fift: ‘Frenemies’ and Neighbours From Hell.

Within the British Isles as a whole, England’s kings have a tenuous hold on power. Keep in mind too that the Royal line changes several times again between the time of Henry V and the days of Shakespeare. The play was also performed during the times of The Nine Years War in Ireland (1594-1603).

English identity was more fragile than that of its Celtic neighbours. According to Christopher Ivic in his essay ‘Norman Bastards, Bastard Normans: Anamalous Identities in The Life of Henry the Fift,’“for many English writers, Welshness was viewed as more ancient, true and unmixed than Englishness.”

The bloodline of the Tudors owed much to Wales, as did the victory of Henry VII over Richard III, the House of York and the Plantagenet dynasty. Henry VIII may have brought about the Act of Union between the two nations of England and Wales, but even this was not enough to erase national, linguistic, cultural and psychological differences between the two peoples.

And besides all that, after Elizabeth I, England was ruled by a Scotsman, James I!

Is Shakespeare’s Henry V a British or an English Play?

Many critics claim that Shakespeare’s Henry V is a celebration of British identity and patriotism as opposed to Englishness. But, as Ivic points out, an interesting but little-known fact about the play is that in one manuscript (F1), the lines of dialogue for the Welsh captain, Fluellen, are often introduced in the margin as ‘Welch’ instead of ‘Fluellen’ or ‘Flu.’ Likewise for MacMorris, ‘Irish;’ and for Jamy, ‘Scot.’ Gower the Englishman, on the other hand, is consistently represented as ‘Gower.’

The play therefore seems to have been written from an English rather than a ‘British’ perspective – but it is more than a simple celebration of English identity, more than an ‘epic of English nationalism.’ It is a sophisticated interrogation of the whole idea of England and Englishness, and of English imperial right and superiority. The Welshness of Fluellen is used to destabalise any easy national identity which the predominantly English audience might like to assume.

Fluellen as a Representation of Welshness.

Christopher Highley: “Fluellen figures the colonial subject who has internalized English values and subordinated his own provincial loyalties to service to the English nation-state.”

Christopher Ivic: “many Elizabethans and Jacobeans considered Wales to be a mild, compliant neighbor.” Shakespeare’s Henry V can be seen as “disseminating an idealized (indeed fictionalized) Anglo-Welsh alliance. But Wales and Welshness also serve as disturbing examples of various forms of proximity […] and the play’s inscriptions of these forms of proximity unsettle notions of England, English and Englishness.”

 

For King Harry, God, England and St. George! Or Not.
Finally, if Fluellen represents the Welsh and Welshness, surely the play has no greater cypher of Englishness than King Henry himself. Not so! The character who inspires so much English nationalistic pride in the beginning of the play is towards the end of it inverted in a surprising and almost shocking way.
Harry’s Englishness first begins to Waver when he disguises himself as a common soldier and goes walking around the camp at night to hear the opinions of his men. Initially he’s mistaken for a Cornishman, which immediately makes his Englishness ambiguous.
But Shakespeare doesn’t stop there. Next, Harry tells Pistol he’s a ‘Welchman’ – a kinsman of Fluellen, no less. And later again, after the battle, ‘Harry English’ confesses to Fluellen, ‘I am Welch you know good countriman,’ to which Fluellen responds, ‘All the water in the Wye, cannot wash your Maiesties Welsh plod out of your body.’
What’s going on? Why would Shakespeare have his most English character do this, when the actual Henry V had no Welsh blood at all? Well, Henry V was born in Monmouth, but that doesn’t seem enough of a reason to have him state something like this. My own personal theory? You’ll have to wait for the next post, and in the meantime please leave a comment.

Tara for now



 

Friday, 10 May 2013

Shakespeare and the Welsh Part III.


Shakespeare’s Henry IV.

(Read Part One of this Series First?)

Bolingbroke’s usurpation of the English throne has proved successful – he is now King Henry IV and his cousin Richard II is no more. However, Henry’s reign is troubled. 

There are problems in England with the Earl of Northumberland, his son Henry Percy [Harry Hotspur] and the Archbishop of York attempting to rebel against Henry. They’ve joined with the Mortimer family and the Welshman Owain Glyndwr.

The rebels plan to overthrow Henry IV and divide the kingdom in three – the north for the Northumberland family, the south for the Mortimers, Wales and the western midlands of England for Owain Glyndwr.

The whole of Wales is in revolt at this time under the leadership of Glyndwr. Castles are being seized across Wales and even Welsh students at Oxford are abandoning their studies in order to return home and join under the disgruntled nobleman Owain.

This Owain Glyndwr (Owen Glendower) is one of the most important figures of Welsh history and much has been written about him already. But how does Shakespeare choose to represent him?




Shakespeare’s Owain Glyndwr.

Like the Welsh depicted in Richard II, Shakespeare’s Owain Glyndwr (written in the play as Owen Glendower) is also highly superstitious. However, it’s not just the Welsh this time – the English also believe Owain to be a magician (a belief commonly held at the time).

Shakespeare’s Owen even believes it himself: he comes across as being a bit over-inflated in his opinion of himself:

“At my nativity/ The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,/ Of burning cressets; and at my birth/ The frame and huge foundation of the earth/ Shaked like a coward./All the courses of my life do show/ I am not in the role of common men.”

Shakespeare’s Owen also boasts of his learning (he was an educated lawyer in reality before becoming a revolutionary), but his speech is peppered with noticeable Welsh ticks and he comes across as common or comical:

“I can speak English, lord as well as you;/ For I was train'd up in the English court,/ Where, being but young, I framed to the harp/ Many an English ditty lovely well.”

Glendower's ally Harry Hotspur constantly teases him for greater comic effect. Hotspur is a rash and quarrelsome character who doesn’t believe any of Owen’s hype or is simply trying to provoke him into an argument.

Hotspur works as a foil to make Glendower look like a bit of an idiot. Converesley, Glendower’s patience with the rude and arrogant Hotspur could be seen as admirable.




Shakspeare’s Owen Glendower: A Positive Image?

Critics have been divided as to what Shakespeare’s intentions were in this scene. Is he putting Owen and the Welsh down, or making a defense of them by showing Hotspur and his opinions to be rash?

David Bevington: “Whether Glendower is to be perceived as a powerful magician (…) is a complex question.” But, “In general his claims to magical powers are undercut by Hotspur’s sardonic witticisms.”

It seems though that Shakespeare himself intended to present Glendower’s claims as authentic, because in the play Glendower conjures music (the musicians were perhaps hidden away behind curtains in different parts of the theatre, so that the audience was tricked into thinking that the music did indeed “hang in the air”).

Joan Fitzpatrick: “Whether or not Shakespeare wished us to think that Glyndwr summoned the music supernaturally (…) is less important than the fact that magic appears to occur. Although Hotspur’s response to the apparent magic is typically mocking, he does not deny that Glyndwr has done what he said he would on this occasion.”

Glendower and Other Characters in Henry IV.

The way the other characters respond to Hotspur is important to how Glendower is perceived. Hotspur is admonished by Mortimer and Worcester and even by his own wife.

Mortimer presents a positive account of Glendower, and according to Fitzpatrick this undermines Hotspur’s characterization of him, as well as writer and historian Christopher Highley’s opinion that Shakespeare wanted his audience to share Hotspur’s negative ideas about Owain Glyndwr and the superstitious Welsh.

Glyndwr’s son in law, Edmund Mortimer, ultimately defends his father in law’s merits:

“In faith, he is a worthy gentleman,/ Exceedingly well read, and profited/ In strange concealments; valiant as a lion,/ And wondrous affable; and as bountiful/ As mines of India.”

“Strange concealments” refers to the way Owain and his men were able to attack and then vanish. Glyndwr was so skillful at using the Welsh mountains, woods and weather to his advantage that in his own lifetime the English thought he was a master of the black arts.




Shakespeare’s Glyndwr and His View of the Welsh?

So, if Shakespeare really is presenting Owain Gyndwr in a positive light, does that mean his representations of the Welsh throughout his ‘history plays’ are well intended? Not necessarily.

As I pointed out in Part Two of this serial post, the Welsh in Richard II have perhaps not been depicted in a fair or accurate manner (depending on whether you see Welsh loyalty to Richard II as an admirable thing or as a negative mark of the power of English imperialism).

And next week I’ll hopefully discuss Fluellen in Shakespeare’s Henry V – probably the most well-known of all Shakespeare’s Welsh characters – and show how Shakespeare’s portrayals of the Welsh can often contain insidious political influence that favours English superiority over a subjugated Welsh ‘otherness.’