Trendy middle class liberal frauds?

Over the Easter holidays, a significant number of York University students — I don’t know exactly how many, but I personally know at least ten — converged on London to participate in an all-night vigil supporting the Make Poverty History campaign. A good time was had by all — especially those who managed to get into the Methodist Central Hall in time to hear Thom Yorke of Radiohead play an acoustic set — and both organisers and the authorities were a little startled by the numbers who attended (police estimates stood at around 8,000, while the organisers claimed 25,000 — as is usually the case with such events, the truth probably lies somewhere between the two figures, but bear in mind that predicted turnout was between 2,000 and 4,000!)

I have little doubt that the many and wondrous events of this night will be detailed at great length in other people’s articles. No doubt nicer people than me will focus on the good time that was had by all, the marvellous fun to be found wandering around Trafalgar Square at four in the morning, and above all the indisputable impact the event will have had on political thought for the next year at least.

My thoughts were of a rather more jaded and cynical nature. It may be because I’m a little older and wiser than most of the other people I knew there (although in my case age and wisdom never really seemed to go together). It may be that I was having a fairly rough time personally and was more interested in my own issues than saving the world. It may just be that I had been driving and felt tireder than everyone else. Or it may be that I was there principally as the driver, and not out of any particularly strong personal devotion to the cause. Whatever, I felt a trifle isolated from the overall action, and made a few observations of a general nature.

The title of this article outlines the first observation I made. If I were to characterise the people I encountered that night, they would all have been trendy middle class liberal frauds.

Of greatest note, first, is not the term “trendy”, but “middle class”. Without exception, the people I met were well-educated, well-off, and if not well-groomed then at least very self-consciously scruffy.

This, of course, should not surprise any student of social history. Lenin, Trotsky, Castro, Guevara, all rose from middle-class obscurity to become socialist revolutionaries. Conversely, extremist right-wing political groups tend to find their greatest groundswells of support in areas not too flush with cash. The middle classes are generally the most aware of social issues (apart, of course, from those actually living them) and have the disposable income to do something about them. Like spend a whole night in London marching round.

However, this did have a couple of interesting effects. One — well, the British middle classes simply don’t do chants. Even the time honoured call and response of, “What do we want? Trade justice! When do we want it? Now!” only ever seemed to provoke a slightly self-conscious atmosphere, as you would expect from a bunch of accountants letting their hair down on holiday.

Second, though, we have to consider the prospect of hypocrisy. Affluent people generally don’t become affluent by being fools or underemployed. How many people on that march worked for, or bought from, companies that are actively contributing to world poverty? Statistically, some of them must have. And while I laud the prospect of people with social consciences changing the system from within, I will question their motives. This brings me to my next adjective, “trendy”.

Towards the tail-end of a teaching placement, I met Tom. Tom adhered to all school uniform regulations save one; his arms were festooned with wristbands. Among them, I caught a glimpse of the dingy white which all Make Poverty History wristbands acquire after three days’ wear. Tom, however, is not an activist. He is an intelligent year 7 with a collection of wristbands. Not because he approves of all these causes, but because he likes wristbands. They are cool.

Much of the Make Poverty History campaign has been in thrall to cool. The presences of Ronan Keating, Pete Postlethwaite, Thom Yorke, Damien Lewis et al that night, the fact that the figureheads of this movement are not politicians or economists but Bob Geldof, Bono and Chris Martin — all this suggests a movement where the heart thoroughly rules the head. This is exemplified by their manifesto, which demands beautifully simple solutions to poverty. No offence, lads, but if it were that simple do you really think we’d still be in this mess?

Like I said, I’m a jaded cynic. And I fully accept that we really do need to tackle the question of global poverty. And I don’t doubt that the Make Poverty History campaign has thought through its policies very carefully. But I rather wonder why the writer of “I Don’t Like Mondays”, killer tune though it is, is the best placed man in the world to encourage us to back this campaign. Geldof’s greatest achievement, for me, was not saving lives in Ethiopia, or putting world poverty back on the political agenda. It was making activism cool. People now go on protests not because they agree with the cause, or because of a heartfelt sympathy for the starving, but because their favourite band says they should. If you will permit the Private Eye-esque Neophilia, causes are the new crash diets.

But does this make those people frauds? At my most jaded, I thought it probably did. I began to wonder how these people would react when prices skyrocketed, as they surely must if companies (which exist, let’s face it, to make money) try to give farmers a fair price while maintaining their profit margins. If the G8 do agree to all of the Make Poverty History campaign’s demands, how long will it be before the cool factor wears off and the pennypinching kicks in? How long before Geldof finds another cause to pursue? And that, dear friends, is assuming that 20,000 people waking him up in the middle of the night is guaranteed to get Tony Blair begging the G8 to join him in eliminating global poverty.

But then I gave it some extra thought. The quest often makes the man. Or woman. How many people in first century Palestine followed that odd Jesus bloke around out of a sense of cool? He was very fashionable for a time. And, even considering the rather more fragmented class system of the time, plenty of his followers would have fallen into the “trendy middle class liberal frauds” category. But some who followed, at first, out of a desire to be cool or a vague idea that social justice was a good thing, became enthralled by the simplicity of the message and the utterly compelling personality of the man who was God.

Now I’m not comparing Bob Geldof to Jesus, but I know that having been on that march, having been involved in that campaign, initially out of a desire to meet attractive female activists (ah, finally the truth comes out…) I now care very passionately about its outcome. You can make a difference. It is important. So whether you have to be cool or you hate the rock star with a cause, think about the outcome. Jesus healed the sick, but he also saved mankind. This campaign won’t be that radical, but it will make a big difference. Help us now.

Chris Charlton

Photo: Rachel Cavill