Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
Spanish life is not always likeable but it is compellingly loveable.
- Christopher Howse: 'A Pilgrim in Spain'*
Living La Vida Loca in Galicia/Spain
I'm more than half convinced there are folk employed in our town hall with a job description that reads: Your responsibility is to change traffic flows at random every 2 to 4 years, without taking anything at all into consideration. . . . As I was driving to my parking spot yesterday on the Lérez side of O Burgo bridge, I noticed that the back road to my preferred supermarket had had its one-way flow changed to the opposite direction. Meaning that I'll now have to get to it via the main road, increasing the traffic there and adding at least 2km to my return journey. My first thought was it'd be 4km but then I recalled they'd kindly changed the direction of the main Street through Lérez last month,
I cited a job description in the last paragraph but I wouldn't want you to run away with the idea these are common in Spain, My elder daughter has a well-paid job in Madrid but has never had one. Even though she's employed by the subsidiary of an American company. Perhaps they've fallen out of fashion since my day.
Incidentally, the back road I use to the supermarket is the Portuguese camino out of Pontevedra. I fear that Pilgrims doing this for a second time and expecting cars to come southwards and towards them are now likely to be mown down by cars behind them going northwards. Vamos a ver.
Talking of roads . . . As elsewhere in Spain and other countries, reduced human activity has brought wild animals out of the forests here in Galicia. It's reported today that accidents involving wild boars here have tripled, albeit over 10 years. True, this could be from 1 to 3 or 3 to 9 but it's still a 200% increase. Wolves next?
Here's María's Riding The Wave: Day 44
The USA
An interesting article below on What We Get Wrong About America’s Crisis of Democracy. Descent into authoritarianism always happens, claims the author. The interesting question, he adds, is not what causes autocracy but what has ever suspended it.
The Way of the World
I've been known to be amused by Pontevedra's men in luminescent lycra on expensive bikes. So, the 2nd article below was bound to leave me slack-jawed.
Finally . . .
Click here or here to see the Pantone blue shade of the new British passport.
Reader Eamon has asked me to place the new passport on a black background, to show that it really is blue. Make up your own mind:-
Here's the old 'blue' one:-
And here they are together:-
THE ARTICLES
1. What We Get Wrong About America’s Crisis of Democracy: The interesting question is not what causes authoritarianism but what has ever suspended it: Adam Gopnik, The New Yorker
Readers of “Through the Looking-Glass” may recall the plight of the Bread-and-Butterfly, which, as the Gnat explains to Alice, can live only on weak tea with cream in it. “Supposing it couldn’t find any?” Alice asks. “Then it would die, of course,” the Gnat answers. “That must happen very often,” Alice reflects. “It always happens,” the Gnat admits, dolefully.
How the Bread-and-Butterfly survives, given the impossible demands of its diet, is a nice question. Lewis Carroll was in part teasing Darwinian ideas, which depend on a struggle for existence in which, eventually, we all lose—nonexistence being the norm of living things, over time. But the plight of the Bread-and-Butterfly comes to mind, too, when we contemplate what is called, not without reason, America’s crisis of democracy. It always happens. We are told again and again that American democracy is in peril and may even be on its deathbed. Today, after all, a defeated yet deranged President bunkers in the White House contemplating crazy conspiracy theories and perhaps even martial law, with the uneasy consent of his party and the rabid support of his base. We are then told, with equal urgency, that what is wrong, ultimately, is deep, systemic, and Everybody’s Fault. Perhaps there is a crisis of meaning, or of spirit; perhaps it is a crisis caused by the condescension of self-important élites. (In truth, those élites tend to be at least as self-lacerating as they are condescending, as the latest rounds of self-laceration show.)
Lurking behind all of this is a faulty premise—that the descent into authoritarianism is what needs to be explained, when the reality is that . . . it always happens. The default condition of humankind is not to thrive in broadly egalitarian and stable democratic arrangements that get unsettled only when something happens to unsettle them. The default condition of humankind, traced across thousands of years of history, is some sort of autocracy.
America itself has never had a particularly settled commitment to democratic, rational government. At a high point of national prosperity, long before manufacturing fell away or economic anxiety gripped the Middle West—in an era when “silos” referred only to grain or missiles and information came from three sober networks, and when fewer flew over flyover country—a similar set of paranoid beliefs filled American minds and came perilously close to taking power. As this magazine’s political writer Richard Rovere documented in a beautifully sardonic 1965 collection, “The Goldwater Caper,” a sizable group of people believed things as fully fantastical as the Trumpite belief in voting machines rerouted by dead Venezuelan socialists. The intellectual forces behind Goldwater’s sudden rise thought that Eisenhower and J.F.K. were agents, wittingly or otherwise, of the Communist conspiracy, and that American democracy was in a death match with enemies within as much as without. (Goldwater was, political genealogists will note, a ferocious admirer and defender of Joe McCarthy, whose counsel in all things conspiratorial was Roy Cohn, Donald Trump’s mentor.)
Goldwater was a less personally malevolent figure than Trump, and, yes, he lost his 1964 Presidential bid. But, in sweeping the Deep South, he set a victorious neo-Confederate pattern for the next four decades of American politics, including the so-called Reagan revolution. Nor were his forces naïvely libertarian. At the time, Goldwater’s ghostwriter Brent Bozell spoke approvingly of Franco’s post-Fascist Spain as spiritually far superior to decadent America, much as the highbrow Trumpites talk of the Christian regimes of Putin and Orbán.
The interesting question is not what causes autocracy (not to mention the conspiratorial thinking that feeds it) but what has ever suspended it. We constantly create post-hoc explanations for the ascent of the irrational. The Weimar inflation caused the rise of Hitler, we say; the impoverishment of Tsarism caused the Bolshevik Revolution. In fact, the inflation was over in Germany long before Hitler rose, and Lenin came to power not in anything that resembled a revolution—which had happened already under the leadership of far more pluralistic politicians—but in a coup d’état by a militant minority. Force of personality, opportunity, sheer accident: these were much more decisive than some neat formula of suffering in, autocracy out.
Donald Trump came to power not because of an overwhelming wave of popular sentiment—he lost his two elections by a cumulative ten million votes—but because of an orphaned electoral system left on our doorstep by an exhausted Constitutional Convention. It’s true that our diagnoses, however dubious as explanations, still point to real maladies. Certainly there are all sorts of reasons for reducing economic inequality. But Trump’s power was not rooted in economic interests, and his approval rating among his followers was the same when things were going well as it is now, when they’re going badly. Then, too, some of the blandest occupants of the Oval Office were lofted there during previous peaks of inequality.
The way to shore up American democracy is to shore up American democracy—that is, to strengthen liberal institutions, in ways that are unglamorously specific and discouragingly minute. The task here is not so much to peer into our souls as to reduce the enormous democratic deficits under which the country labors, most notably an electoral landscape in which farmland tilts to power while city blocks are flattened. This means remedying manipulative redistricting while reforming the Electoral College and the Senate. Some of these things won’t be achievable, but all are worth pursuing—with the knowledge that, even if every box on our wonkish wish list were checked, no set-it-and-forget-it solution to democratic fragility would stand revealed. The only way to stave off another Trump is to recognize that it always happens. The temptation of anti-democratic cult politics is forever with us, and so is the work of fending it off.
The rule of law, the protection of rights, and the procedures of civil governance are not fixed foundations, shaken by events, but practices and habits, constantly threatened, frequently renewable. “A republic if you can keep it,” Benjamin Franklin said. Keeping a republic is a matter not of preserving it like pickles but of working it like dough—which sounds like something you’d serve alongside very weak tea. But it is the essential diet to feed our democracy if we are to make what always happens, for a little while longer, happily unhappen.
2. The Rise of the Fashion Mamil: Meet the men who spend £8K+ on their cycling gear: Alan Tyers
They may have once been the butt of everyone’s jokes, but MAMILs (middle-aged man in lycra) are on now the front pedal – with ultra-niche designer gear, meticulous grooming routines and bikes worth more than your car. And they are looking good on it.
A weekday afternoon in a London photography studio, and four middle-aged blokes are happily discussing shaving their legs. There’s earnest debate about aerodynamics, aesthetics, and not getting gravel stuck in your pores if you fall off. But most of all, there is agreement that smooth, silky calves are a badge of honour for the serious amateur cyclist.
Middle-aged men in Lycra (aka MAMILs) have become an easy target, and not just for irate cabbies and lorry drivers. The stereotype was once a portly businessman proving he still had it, squeezed into ill-fitting sportswear, and waving it in your face when he got into the office.
But no more. The story of today’s middle-aged cyclist is about camaraderie, about feeling part of something while still expressing your own individuality, about doing something because you love it and because it’s good for you. It’s about male mental health, about pushing yourself. And for the 4 guys below, it’s about style, fashion, and getting things just right. They and a lot of others like them have money in their pockets, and are prepared to spend it on looking sharp while they ride. With the UK cycling market worth around £1.5 billion annually, and a bike sold every 10 seconds, brands want a piece of these men – and the bigger spenders do tend to be men. Labels like Rapha, Castelli and Café du Cycliste are as familiar to this audience as Paul Smith, Drake’s and Sunspel. In fact, they tend to experiment with, and spend money on, cycling style in a way they might be reluctant to when it comes to non-wheeled looks.
‘Cycling is about propelling a bike, but the aesthetic is of equal importance,’ says the television newsreader and presenter Matt Barbet. ‘Some people just look great on a bike: it’s about riding well, about looking like the bike was made for you, and it is also about the kit. The kit has to match. I love to hunt out limited-edition pieces by brands such as MAAP; I’ll get stuff they do for shops in Japan that people here are most likely not going to have. I don’t want to dress like everyone else. I might spend a couple of hundred on a jersey if it was something I really loved, but it would have to perform well too on a ride.’ Barbet, 43, who will present ITV coverage of the Tour of Britain, which starts today, says there is ‘a tribalism’ to road cycling in Britain, heightened because wider society is not always pro-cyclist. ‘So like any social group, cyclists like to show they know their tribe’s rules.’
And so to legs. ‘Shaving your legs shows that you take cycling seriously,’ says Barbet. ‘It is a non-permanent tattoo. And it looks better: who wants tight Lycra with hairy legs sprouting out? You show off your physique, the hard work that goes into the muscles, and why not? I am not embarrassed; it feels cleaner. And there are all sorts of debates: should you shave up to the shorts or not? The socks, they should start two fingers below the bottom of the calf muscle… Anybody who shaves their legs to ride a bike understands that it is not about physical performance or aerodynamics.’
Emeka Okaro, a consultant obstetrician and gynaecologist, likes that cycling provides him with headspace, a way to be active, and an excuse to stockpile enough wearable textiles to make a Victorian mill owner blush. ‘I got an old bike out of the shed five years ago,’ says Okaro, 51. ‘I did 1.8 miles and I practically collapsed. But I kept with it, and four miles became five miles, and 10 became 20. Obviously there are the keep-fit benefits, less stress on the joints and all that, and I want to be active into my 60s, my 70s. ‘But also I like to look good and feel good about my riding. I have three bikes – my wife would say I have four, but I don’t count one of them because it is a hybrid. I have 25 or so shirts: I like the brand Café du Cycliste. When I first took it up, I didn’t really bother about what I wore, but I wouldn’t go out now without looking the part. I’ll select something depending on my mood and how I want to express myself. I’ve spent a small fortune over the years. ‘It’s about individuality, and also the camaraderie. I ride with my friends, up to about 12 of us, people I have known for years. I would say that we are competitive with each other, but positively. We see improvement as a group and we celebrate that. And my style is an important factor for me in that.’
Britain being Britain, bonding activities that don’t involve several pints of temporary happiness facilitator can be hard to find for many men. For Jamie Dormon, a fashion columnist who has bipolar disorder, cycling is a hobby, a means of expression, and a vital mental-health tool. ‘Cycling shuts my mind up,’ says Dormon, 43. ‘I used to shut it up with drink and whatever, but now I ride. This bike I have today, a fixed-gear, I completely stripped it down. You pedal. To brake, pedal back. I value the simplicity of it; you don’t overthink. It’s all black, apart from the gold chain – that adds a bit of individuality. And I’ll wear a lot of bright colours, pinks or oranges, always coordinated though. Black Sheep and Attaquer I like, and [the range for] Vélobici by a photographer called Scott Mitchell, who worked with Team Sky. ‘I definitely feel faster in Lycra. I love the detail of cycling kit, I think it appeals to the mathematical part of our brains. I am setting up a charity that I’m going to call Manic Bikes, teaching people with bipolar and other mental-health issues to repair bikes. Cycling is great for mental health, because of the quietening effect but also because in a group, if someone hasn’t come for a ride for a couple of weeks, you’d check in with them.’
Jon Evans, 45, who works in marketing, also started five years ago. ‘No underpants,’ he says. ‘That was the big shock. When I first went out, I was with a mate who was an experienced rider. He asked me if I was wearing pants, and then he was like, “Oooh. You are in for some chafing.” The shorts have a pad in, so you don’t want any other fabric. Learnt that quickly. ‘I agree that when I feel my best I ride my best; there’s a mixture of reality and placebo effect. I started off with a bike that cost about £1,000, but your first bike is not your last bike. A £1,000 bike becomes a £3,000 bike and then a £7,000 bike and, well… You see other people with a better one and you think they are at an unfair advantage.’ To Evans, it’s all about the bike. ‘As for the kit, the better I get, the more understated I get. I mostly wear Castelli, low-key. My ideal look would be ninja, really. You should never buy team kit: anyone you see going around dressed in Team Sky is a no-no. You can almost guarantee they cannot ride. And everything has to be tight. Skintight. No sagging, no bagging, because that slows you down. I would have miles more respect for a guy, even if he’s carrying a lot of timber, in tight Lycra, than someone flapping around.’ Like the others, Evans has no problem with spending on the style. ‘I’ve got an account with one online retailer, and they make you a “platinum” member if you spend £500 a year. Occasionally they send a statement, and it was about £1,500 last year on kit. Oh dear!’
All four agree that they dress for themselves, or to be part of a subculture to varying degrees. Barbet admits that there is an element of ‘peacocking’, but none of them feels that they are looking to impress women. Maybe cycling blokes are missing a trick. Lauren Stevenson, 38, who runs Aisle 8 communications consultancy, says, ‘I met my boyfriend when he cycled beside me going up a hill in Ibiza. Cycling is a great way to meet people: you’re outdoors in beautiful scenery, relaxed, you’ve got a shared interest. And it tends to be an affluent sport; guys who will spend five grand on a bike often have interesting jobs or lives. ‘Cycling guys do maybe tend to be a bit older. And I’ve noticed there’s a bit of a progression through the brands they wear: they get into it and get Rapha, and then Castelli, and then the really cool French ones like Chapeau!.’
Lisa Tubbs, 39, a photographer, agrees that cycling is an attractive pastime; she met her husband on a ride with Richmond Park Rouleurs and they are expecting a baby next month. ‘There is definitely something appealing about chasing boys up hills on a bike,’ she jokes. ‘I like that it’s an opportunity for guys to wear bright colours; lots of men seem to love pink on a bike. And while certain physiques might be more aesthetically appealing, I like that guys in all shapes and sizes go for it in the Lycra.’
We live in an era when acceptable and unacceptable expressions of masculinity are debated as never before. Where once the 40- or 50-year-old man might have blown off steam with golf and locker-room chat, or buying a preposterous gas-guzzling vehicle, the switched-on middle-aged man of today wants to spend his cash on an environmentally and socially conscious pursuit; one that is mental-health-positive, physically beneficial, and allows him to express himself. Surely it is time for a hunting ban on MAMILs.
* A terrible book, by the way. Don't be tempted to buy it, unless you're a very religious Protestant.