October 21

Sunday Reads

Usually every fortnight, but this one’s a week late because, yes, new job but also my mum came to visit and, hey, priorities people.

Ron Regé’s Spider-Man story from Coober Skeber

Rege’s style is a bit of an acquired taste (I vividly remember suddenly “getting” him on an overnight train through Wales circa 1999 after years of being bemused) but this is one of his more accessible pieces, where Peter Parker is a furious and bitter 90’s high school nerd. It still stands up.

Software disenchantment

If, like me, you’ve noticed that despite your computers and phones getting more and more powerful they seem to be running at the same speed, or slower, you’re not alone. The programming industry has some serious bloat issues and is totally doing nothing about them, really. This evisceration from a programmer is like the kid pointing out the emperor has no clothes.

If the Point of Capitalism is to Escape Capitalism, Then What’s the Point of Capitalism?

The title says it all and it’s an amusing read, but for once the real interest in the comments. For this is on Medium, home of the Silicon Valley thinkpiece, not known for attracting the Marxist audience, and to question one of the great myths of modern America is just not on.

On Theresa May, Danny DeVito and ‘other people’s money’.

Apparently most people don’t understand how money actually works, which sounds reasonable because I barely have a grasp on it beyond my personal accounts, which bear no relation to how national banks manage a country’s currency. Basically, they make it up and it becomes borrowing, then they tax the profits made by the people who borrow it to pay for making it up in the first place. Or something. Christ, I dunno. But the main message from this explainer is taxes do not fund government expenditure. Which doesn’t make sense. But there you go. Money is weird.

This Is The Real Reason We Haven’t Directly Detected Dark Matter

The story of Dark Matter, the stuff that makes up most of the universe that we can’t see but we know must be there, is fascinating. This is a fun explainer (punctuated with graphs I can’t begin to understand, but that’s cool, the writing makes sense).

Digital Art and the Alt Right. Can you fight fire with fire?

There’s a lot going on here, but my hot take would be that abstractions lend themselves to being filled with easy answers, which is what a lot of populist stuff purports to offer, so we shouldn’t be surprised when methods of strengthening ideas through simplification get co-opted by ideologies that attract lazy thinkers. Or something.

Some of the most remarkable lost artefacts from the ancient world were the titanic wrecks of the Nemi ships.

The Nemi ships were absurdly large pleasure-boats built by mad emperor Caligula on a tiny land-locked lake, because he was mad. In 1929 the fascist dictator Mussolini insisted the lake be drained and boats raised to restore the glory of ancient Rome. It didn’t end well. A fascinating bit of lost history.

Sandscript: A Beachwalker’s Guide to Ripples, Trails, Dimples, and Other Curious Markings

“A beach is a text written by wind, wave, current, and creature. To read it we need to learn its hybrid language.” This breakdown of how shapes in the sand are formed is amazing and needs to be a proper article, or even a book. But we’ll have to make do with this Twitter thread for now.

October 20

Mental Labour Scars

During a presentation by Michael Lightborne I tonight I was struck by a couple of things he mentioned to illustrate a broader point he was making about his work, but which made me think of something else. He was talking about The Projection Project, run by Warwick University to capture the last days of the commercial 35mm film cinema projector. Michael mentioned two things.

The first, during an off-hand digression, was that the projectionists often had calloused fingers and thumbs from handling rough celluloid during the splicing process. He also alluded to sound editors whose fingers would be locked in a hook shape after decades of operating mixing desk sliders. This notion of human bodies being physically changed by industry is nothing new - it arguably started with the invention of farming circa 6,000 BCE and continues today with my neck ache after too much typing. But these physical changes are often seen as a negative thing, a bending of the natural form by unnatural activity.

The second thing was that professional projectionists could diagnose a technical fault with their equipment by the sounds it made which would be imperceptible to anyone else. Again, this is nothing new. Car mechanics often listen to an engine before looking in it, and so on.

But I wonder why this bending of the brain to work more efficiently is always seen as a good thing, while the physical stuff isn’t. Or maybe it’s that the physical stuff is demonstrably limiting - once your fingers are locked into that position you might be an awesome sound mixer but you’re never going to play the piano. A mental optimisation to hear one thing really well, meanwhile, doesn’t mean you can’t use that resource for other things. Or does it?

Does repeated mental activity cause us to think in specific ways? Can you mentally programme a population through the work you give them to do? Or am I mixing apples and oranges.

Still, I like think a shift towards thinking of the mind and body as equally malleable by outside forces is necessary as we move from the notion of free-will to something more programmable.

Pic from Richard Nicholson’s related photographic project, The Projectionists.

October 20

The Revolution will be Laminated

The other day I was making signs at Loaf and Nancy asked if I wanted to laminate them. God, no, I said. Of course not. These are “proper” signs, and you don’t laminate proper signs.

The laminated sign is a curious thing. The fact that it is laminated indicates it is designed to be permanent, to protect it from wear and tear and prevent alteration. It encases a statement for now and the future in wipe-clean plastic.

But the laminated sign is also a transgression. In the hierarchy of the sorts of organisations where persons have access to a laminator, they are produced by those at the bottom, not the top. Those at the top can influence the professional sign making strategy and implement their wishes without having to use the laminator.

Those at the bottom, who have to work within a corporate system which cannot scale down to appreciate the nuance of their day to day existence, will use whatever they can to make their job easier, to get things done. The laminator, along with the desktop printer, is a vital tool in this guerrilla war against a system which prioritises design visions above practicality.

The laminated sign is a correction employed by the powerless in defiance of the powerful. It is never on brand, its vernacular design an offence to the values of head office. For this reason it is regularly hunted down and destroyed whenever higher-ups deign to visit their domains up close. The laminated sign tells the king he is wrong, and no-one can tell the king he is wrong because the king is god.

The laminated sign epitomises the utopian / dystopian dichotomy. The more one seeks efficiency and order, the more one attempts to smooth the rough edges, the more laminated signs will be produced by those who have to deal with the reality of inefficient chaos.

The laminated sign shows your ideology has failed. Your authoritarian dictatorship cannot suppress the anarchy of people’s desire and your under-paid, under-appreciated, under-consulted underlings have admitted defeat. They are re-writing your policy, one laminated sign at a time.

The revolution will be laminated, and the revolution will succeed only when the laminators have gathered dust.

September 29

Sunday Reads

I think there’s a thread to be found in this fortnight’s selection of medium-long-form articles and essays for you to engage with on a lazy Sunday. They’re all about how we arrange, label and perceive the world around us, and how that in turn changes the world. And that’s why I found them all of interest.

Shoreline Maps of the World

One of my favourite maps was at a heritage site on the west coast of Ireland showing Celtic trading routes from Spain to Scotland. It was rotated 90 degrees, revealing how a sea-faring culture would perceive distance quite differently to us. Getting from Galway to, say, London would take forever, but a ship was always travelling to Brittany. It completely changed my perception of how Europe worked back then.

These shoreline maps (see above) take a resolutely ocean-first approach to flattering the globe, and the results are very disorienting. I love them.

Yuval Noah Harari on The Myth of Freedom

Harari is probably the pop-philosopher of the moment, which means one should be wary when his explanations of the world make perfect sense because clarity usually comes at the cost of nuance. All that said, I continue to love his way of piecing observations about the world together in novel ways.

This demolition of the notion of “free will” is quite something and fits with a lot of my thinking without falling into handwringing absolute determinism (“how can we punish evil is there is no free will!”). He simply puts forward that humans are programmable, which is why advertising works, and so in order to respect the will of the people you need to know who or what is programming them. It’s an interesting challenge for democratic systems that emerged when the people themselves were mostly in control of their own programming because experiences were mostly localised. Now we’re in a globally interconnected era it’s often hard to tell who’s nudging our brains.

How does liberal democracy function in an era when governments and corporations can hack humans? What’s left of the beliefs that “the voter knows best” and “the customer is always right”? How do you live when you realise that you are a hackable animal, that your heart might be a government agent, that your amygdala might be working for Putin, and that the next thought that emerges in your mind might well be the result of some algorithm that knows you better than you know yourself? These are the most interesting questions humanity now faces.

2018’s Cattiest Academic Fight Is Over the ‘Meghalayan’

Someone at The Atlantic is obsessed with furious geologists and keeps commissioning articles about them. I for one am happy about this.

How interesting!, you may think. I love science! And perhaps in an earlier era, that’s all you would have had to think. The dawn of the Meghalayan would have earned some wide-eyed headlines, made life slightly easier for a few researchers, and promptly been relegated to a second-round Jeopardy question.

Instead, the Meghalayan kicked off one of the cattiest, most intransigent fights among earth scientists that I can remember—a battle that now concerns some of the most profound questions up for scholarly debate today, including the importance of climate change, the likelihood of societal collapse, and the ultimate place of humanity in the universe.

Skim reading is the new normal. The effect on society is profound

As someone who has skim-read all his life, way before everything was read off screens, I found this fascinating. I’ve never really been able to read texts in depth. One of the reasons I didn’t actually get my philosophy degree back in the day was because I couldn’t do most of the heavy reading. But, as you’ll know from posts like this, I am a voracious reader and consumer of ideas and knowledge. The web was made for people like me, the knowledge dilettantes, and I honestly believe there’s a place for my approach to learning. But if everyone processes texts my way? That’s something else. The author, Maryanne Wolf, is from the intriguingly named Center for Dyslexia, Diverse Learners and Social Justice. Diverse learners for social justice is my new gang name.

Unlearning the Origins of Photography

Ask any photographer when photography started and they’ll say the 19th century, when the chemistry was developed to save images in a camera obscura. But it’s an illuminating exercise to go beyond the technical and explore when and where the idea of photography came about, especially as photography and cameras were employed to define the 20th century and all that it meant. Where did this mechanistic, systemic point of view originate?

Suggesting that the origins of photography go back to 1492 is an attempt to undermine the imperial temporality that was imposed at that time, enabling people to believe, experience, and describe interconnected things as if they were separate, each defined by newness. To put it another way, for photography to emerge as a new technology in the late 1830s, the centrality of the imperial rights on which photography was predicated had to be ignored, denied, or sublimated, or in any case pushed into the background and not perceived as constitutive of its operation as a technology.

How often, especially in the internet era, do wankers like me fetishise the new in ignorance of what the new is built upon? How often do we get away with it?

Sunday Video

A Short Tour of the Manufacturing Might of China

A mediative look at the front-line of hyper-duper consumer capitalism.

On the Deck

These may be featured next time, they may not. But they caught my eye, so they might catch yours.

September 16

Sunday Reads

Feels like a light bunch of reads this fortnight. Maybe because of the new job I haven’t been deep-diving so much, but maybe this is a good thing. Enjoy some word-snacks.

How Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson will become President

A few years ago, possibly when Trump was running for, but hadn’t yet become, president, I read an article following Mr Rock around his daily life which posited he might be president one day. I looked for it today but there are now hundreds of the things, which either means he will be, or he definitely won’t be. This is not that article - this is short story in the form of an emailed proposal by Robert Sloan that declares President Rock to be an inevitability that needs to be programmed by a book that will become a film staring The Rock who, when he becomes president, will use his memory of the film as a template for policy, just as Reagan did with his movies, so it needs to be a good book.

Continuing to Dangle

I am endlessly impressed at how Andrew Rilstone writes so eloquently, making serious and lucid points about the human condition, while exploring the minutiae of 1960s Spider-man comics, of all things. This sort of nerd-heavy writing should not transcend its nerdery, but it does.

Will Terrence Malick Ever Really Finish The Tree of Life?

I’m a sucker for artists who never finish their work, always coming back to fix it. Eddie Campbell’s endless edits of his Alec comics has begotten a complete reworking of From Hell and all those Directors Cuts can’t just be for financial reasons. (Let’s not mention George Lucas though…) So news that Terrence Malick is reworking his magnum opus is entertaining if nothing else. I wasn’t that fussed with the original but maybe I’ll revisit it now it’s 50 minutes longer.

The New Science of Seeing Around Corners

This is a nice short overview of the state of what we might call “extreme imaging”, using faint echoes and shadows to build a pretty coherent record of the world beyond our senses.

In their first paper , Freeman and Torralba showed that the changing light on the wall of a room, filmed with nothing fancier than an iPhone, can be processed to reveal the scene outside the window. Last fall, they and their collaborators reported that they can spot someone moving on the other side of a corner by filming the ground near the corner. This summer, they demonstrated that they can film a houseplant and then reconstruct a three-dimensional image of the rest of the room from the disparate shadows cast by the plant’s leaves. Or they can turn the leaves into a “visual microphone,” magnifying their vibrations to listen to what’s being said.

That visual microphone stuff is amazing, recording a crisp packet with a high-speed camera and then playing the vibrations back like the grooves on a record vibrating the stylus. Your food packaging is always listening.

The Beautiful, Ugly, & Possessive Hearts of Star Wars

If you only read one article about how Star Wars fandom has become a cess-pool of awfulness, then this one will do. Seriously, it’s 12,000 words long and I read it one sitting.

Why the Future of Data Storage is (Still) Magnetic Tape

I have a theory that most developments in computers over the last few decades will, in the long term, be shown to be dead ends and by the middle of the century we’ll be using fundamentally the same technology as powered the moon landings, only way more powerful. It’s amazing that the same technology used to load Hungry Horace onto my ZX Spectrum is now storing terabytes of data on tracks 50 nanometres wide, and there’s still ways to go.

Is NASA’s Opportunity Mars Rover Doomed?

I hope not, though it’s had a good ride.

September 12

Lindsay Ellis on YouTube, on Manufacturing Authenticity on YouTube

I discovered Lindsay Ellis a few months ago as this person who does deep-dive video essays on nerdy subjects in a way that isn’t shite and have been hooked ever since. Despite never really being a big follower of deep-dive video essays I now only ever watch cleverly edited straight-to-camera rapid-fire talkings about some minutiae or other by people much younger than me.

Because Lindsay’s style of work is new to me I’ve of course got like 2,000 words in the drafts folder about it, which I will eventually edit down to something succinct like “I like her work because she uses her brain to think about stuff while crafting these wonderfully entertaining packages that remind me of zines in the 1990s”. But that’s for another day.

This video in particular is a bit of a departure because it’s about YouTube itself, the platform on which she and many others present and distribute their work. It’s mostly about the desire for and value given to “authenticity”, which has been around long before YouTube and will be with us long after but which remains fascinating for how impossible it is to define (given our inner selves are often a mystery to us, can we ever truly be authentic?) and for how we feel we know it when we can’t see it.

More pertinently, the combination of YouTube’s culture of authenticity-expectation and it’s aggressively tuned algorithms, does not appear to be providing video producers with a safe working environment, mentally speaking.

In June Polygon published YouTube’s top creators are burning out and breaking down en mass and this week The Guardian released The YouTube stars heading for burnout: ‘The most fun job imaginable became deeply bleak’.

James Bridle calls this algorithmic employment:

[Algorithmic employment] has two main qualities: optimisation and opacity. “Optimisation” - from the employer’s point of view of course - really means the extraction of every possible effort, with no regard to the cost (there are always others to exploit).

But the process is always opaque - and thus confusing, anxiety-inducing, to the employee… selective opacity is a form of power, a deeply oppressive one…

That’s combined, too, with the illusion of choice, whether it’s YouTubers or Uber drivers, or the supposed flexibility of zero-hours contracts. The outsourcing of responsibility. Google, YouTube, and others continue to engineer and implement dystopia for our benefit, if we choose to see it.

What makes the YouTube algoployees different to, say, Deliveroo biker could be the emotional labour required to manufacture the correct levels of authenticity, and to deal with the fallout of that when it lands in places you weren’t expecting.

I discovered this evening that comments on YouTube count as an engagement metric, so videos that have lots of comments get pushed up the sidebar by the algorithm. Added to this, users of YouTube expect to be able to leave comments and if they don’t, they get mad.

I feel like I’ve discovered a new seam of really interesting activity on the internet and it’s all great and awesome, but I’m simultaneously worried about the mental health of these people, and that’s not nice. I don’t know what the answer is, but I suspect it might involve moving off YouTube, if that’s even possible.

Pete’s favourite YouTube accounts of the moment:

Is it wrong that even after all this I’m finding myself thinking seriously about starting a YouTube channel thingy? Something like Pete in the shed with the rabbits. I dunno.

September 3

The danger of meaning

I would comfortably say that I'm often searching for meaning in things. This feels like a good thing to do, to not accept face values but to prod and question and figure out what's actually going on. And upon finding meaning I'm happy and satisfied. My work is done. I can move on.

So I was intrigued, on starting to watch Examined Life - a series of interviews with contemporary philosophers, to come across Avital Ronell's rejection of meaning.

(Sidebar: I know Ronell is apparently what we might call a "controversial" figure and a pretty horrible person, by some accounts, but I'm just interested in this idea of Heidegger's she articulates here.)

It's worth watching, but in essence, meaning makes things satisfying, so we are prone to accept meanings without questioning them because they feel good. But many things don't lend themselves to simple meaning, and that's when we have to work harder, to pay attention to our actions and question the easy but empty meanings that are attached to such things.

I found myself thinking of traffic lights and the language of road signage. It is easy for motorists to read the signage and apply that meaning to the road environment to the exclusion of any messier information that might be around. A green light means go, so we go. We are slaves to meaning.

An intriguing, but rarely implemented, method of traffic calming is to remove as much signage as possible, along with curbs, road markings, crossings, etc. This shared space idea makes driving full of uncertainty because you don't know what anything means. There's no handy light telling you to go and a sign saying at what speed. You have to move your car through this space and anything can happen.

pic via

Ronell seems to be saying we should approach the world like a shared space road, removing all the signage erected by those who control and influence society's rules and moving carefully because anything can happen.

Of course this could lead to paralysis, but I think it's more about being aware that the meaning we assign to something or someone is, by necessity, a massively simplification. They are evil, they can be trusted, they deserve their fate. These simplifications let us get past the issue nice and quickly, but that does not make using them the right thing to do. Nuance is important.

Plenty to ponder.

Examined Life is on Prime at the moment.

September 3

Pretty Trauma

With some trepidation I watched the first episode of season two of The Handmaids Tale the other night. The first season had been very good but I'd heard the next was a bit all-out brutal horrorshow and, oddly enough, I didn't find myself needing that of an evening.

That first episode is pretty brutal and presumably sets the tone for some outright misery. Usually I'm OK with that, but I'm wondering to what end this is all for. The first season mirrored the book and therefore had a coherent arc. There was a point. This next wave is, what, world building? Where's it going?

Obviously that will become clear over time, but there was something about the presentation that slightly unnerved me. It was quite beautiful.

There's a whole thing in film theory (I believe - this is definitely not my area) about the perils of presenting horrifying scenes that you want the viewer to engage with but in doing so make the horrifying thing exciting and alluring. Film, like all visual art, gets its power by showing an abstracted, unreal or hyperreal version of the world using tropes and styles that can detach us as much as involve us. Or something. Maybe an example will help.

In this first episode of Handmaids season 2 the women are forced to stand in a courtyard in the rain holding a rock at arms length as an ongoing punishment for the denouement of season 1. It's basically a torture scene, but it's filmed beautifully. The women are perfectly arranged in a circle and frequently filmed from above, their bright red and white costumes contrasting with the dark bricks.

It is a visually beautiful scene, perfectly staged, cleanly shot. Prior to this was a flashback to the pre-fascist days which is all soft lights and handheld cameras. A contrast is being made, but I'm uneasy about how gorgeous the nightmare looks. How it draws me in. Maybe that's the point? I'm not sure.

I filed all that away in my mind, but then we watched I, Tonya last night, a biopic about ice skater Tonya Harding, which was excellent in many many ways. I particularly liked how the tone threw me off guard. The trailer sets up a light-hearted comic romp about white-trash idiots and the film itself pretty much delivers that sort of film, except it doesn't because this is a story about an abused woman, emotionally by her mother and physically by her husband, ultimately punished by society for something she (probably) didn't do. I'm sitting there thinking, am I supposed to be laughing at this? It's been set up as a funny, there are some genuinely funny bits, but this story is not funny at all. It's a genuine tragedy.

I think I, Tonya plays a bait and switch, promising you a Goodfellas or Logan Lucky and then betraying that with something much darker. The Founder did a similar thing with Michael Keaton's character who you initially root for and by the end feel terrible for ever liking. It's a subtle and tricky thing, to subvert the viewer's experience like that, and it's all the more powerful when it works.

Handmaids doesn't feel like it's doing anything subtle here. It seems to be simply saying "This world is awful. Look how awful it is. Look at it." But to make sure we look they make this awful world look beautiful even when it's supposed to be ugly and brutal. Especially when it's ugly and brutal. And I'm not sure that works in the way they intended.

September 2

Sunday Reads

A currently biweekly digest of longer-form writings and the occasional video I would like to commend to you for a lazy Sunday morning.

The Shape of Space

This extensive look at the geometry of living in environments where up and down don't make sense is packed full of quite wonderful things. Buckminster Fuller made a big deal of us living on "Spaceship Earth" and encouraged shifts in language to reorient ourself as riding on a planet moving through space, but our evolutionary experience is stubbornly locked to a gravity model. Even astronauts on the International Space Station, that great experiment in post-planetary living, orient themselves as if "they are in a very tall building with all the intermediate floors removed." Also of note is an intelligent and detailed look at those 1970s cylindrical space habitats that haunted my childhood.

Russian Cosmism Versus Interstellar Bosses: Reclaiming Full-Throttle Luxury Space Communism

Cosmism is a new term to me and I'm enjoying discovering it. Like many ideas that came from inter-war Europe and post-revolutionary Russia, it's unrealistic and bonkers but highly alluring. And the parallels with the fringe ideologies of our algorithm-weilding masters is quite striking, albeit more optimistic, maybe? Does the left need to "seize back crazed utopic ideas from fascists and Silicon Valley" in order to save the world from Trump? It's certainly worth considering.

How to be human: the man who was raised by wolves

A long-read on Marcos Rodríguez who was abandoned as a child in poverty-stricken Spain and grew up without human contact. But that's just the preamble. The story really happens when he is brought back to civilisation but doesn't have any of the social tools to deal with a culture coming out of Fascism.

It may be no accident that Rodríguez’s case was, for half a century, rather less celebrated: he emerged from the mountains into a country scared to investigate itself for fear of what it might find. There was little appetite for reopening debates about poverty and neglect, or the sale of children into labour, even in the 1970s. It was not until much later, 35 years after Franco had died, in a democracy mature enough to confront its past, that the details and significance of his story were finally embraced.

What does a nuclear bomb blast feel like?

The headline here is soldiers at nuclear bomb tests seeing the bones in their hands as they covered their faces, but the real kick in the guts for me is that they were forced into secrecy for decades and never compensated for being there at all. Oh, these are British soldiers, by the way, dying of leukaemia and fathering deformed babies. This bloody country...

September 1

Chamberlain Clock

On a number of Birmingham's traffic islands you'll find these iron clocks painted green. They're total heritage but because they often have no pedestrian access it's tricky to see them up close. While doing a reccy for my Jewellery Quarter walks this month I crossed over to read the inscription on the clock there and took a photo because it's quite specific.

Joseph Chamberlain is one of the Big Names in this city. Not to be confused with his son Neville of "peace in our time" fame, Chamberlain's mayorship in the 1870s saw one of the great Victorian programmes of municipal socialism, clearing the slums and reducing the blight of poverty, fighting hard against the Conservative establishment to bring about real reform. He was, in short, a local hero, so it's unsurprising that there are countless monuments and memorials to him, not least a public square of equal stature to Victoria's next door.

But he was also a massive Imperialist. Having sorted out Birmingham he went Westminster and became Colonial Secretary in Salisbury's government and brought his paternalist reforming ideas with him.

"I believe that the British race is the greatest of the governing races that the world has ever seen... It is not enough to occupy great spaces of the world's surface unless you can make the best of them. It is the duty of a landlord to develop his estate."


And then there were the Boer Wars which he oversaw, including the delightful invention of the concentration camp. These were won and the Treaty of Vereeniging was signed in May 1902.

The plaque on the clock is about a two month tour of South Africa from over the Winter of 1902-3, a bridge building, conciliation effort to bring everyone back under the umbrella of the British Empire. Everyone with white skin, that is. Apartheid might not have become official policy until 1948 but it was there in all but name. Blacks were a resource, like the land, and the Boer Wars were effectively about who would control that resource.

The quote on the clock reads: "We have shown that we can be strong and resolute in war; it is equally important to show that we can be strong and resolute in peace." Within a decade white South Africans had negotiated nominal independence and were fully sovereign by 1931.

Chamberlain seems like a massively complicated figure but he marks an interesting moment in the history of progressiveness in the UK. He was in some ways ahead of his time in Birmingham, recognising that the city was only as strong and healthy as its inhabitants and that industry alone could not provide the necessary levels of infrastructure. He, and many others across the country, laid the foundations for the welfare state, and for that we must be grateful.

But he was behind the times when it came to the rest of the world. He believed the hubris of Britain's divine right to rule the waves and their superiority over other races. The 20th century would prove him as wrong as it would prove his civic ideas right.

In Birmingham I think we like to remember the young Chamberlain over the old, just as the English as a whole prefer the old Churchill to the more problematic pre-war version. It makes us feel better about our place in history to concentrate on the good stuff. But we should probably remember the bad stuff too. Birmingham's connection to the evils of empire is less clear cut than, say, Bristol and Liverpool where the slave trade looms large. But it's there, clearly written on the lovingly preserved heritage clocks on the traffic islands.