We are experiencing something of a technological meltdown chez Farrow. My laptop seems to have joined the husband’s phone in silicone heaven so there will be something of a hiatus until the children have swept enough chimneys to raise funds for a new one.

For some inexplicable reason, touch typing on a tablet just doesn’t seem to work too well for me, it’s so interminably slow that by the time one reaches the end of a sentence, the train of thought is lost.

So. No mobile phone and no laptop. Whatever does one do? I suspect this is rather providential as it means that I can get on with some serious reading minus distractions. Regular readers might remember that last year’s tumultuous events together with an unplanned pregnancy meant that I had to defer my degree only weeks after I had started the first year, the sickness was rendering concentration impossible and tiredness making it impossible to keep up to speed with the vast amounts of reading. Though it was a tough decision, it was undoubtedly the right one, Felicity was born via section, five weeks before the first year finals. It was never going to work.

This is a bit of a now or never moment in terms of the elusive degree. One of the biggest mistakes of my life was not going when I had the chance – it’s a long and unedifying story. My only sadness is that last year I had an Oxbridge offer, my dream was tantalisingly within my grasp, but at the time I had a then 5 month old, my husband was in ministry in Brighton, my daughter was settled in school here and it was just unfeasible. All of which makes me sound like a dreadful snob, I really am not, the quality of teaching at my university is top line and two of my tutors are very big names in their fields. It’s just in order to qualify for entry, I had worked jolly hard, undertaking a Foundation Course at Oxford University’s department for Continuing Education, which is the first year of a degree split part time over two years. I had combined it with a full time job as well as pregnancy, childbirth and weekly commuting to Oxford with a newborn baby, no mean feat and by some miracle scraped a first. Being something of an aesthete I felt like a successful Jude thrust into the playground of Sebastian Flyte. When people talk about the privileged at Oxford, that was certainly not my experience in terms of fellow students, especially the mature ones. There was an enormous diversity of backgrounds, one of the most successful people in my class was a young Muslim immigrant who combined the course with his cleaning job in the small hours of the morning, who was routinely scored marks of above seventy and who was awarded a full-time place at the end of the course.

The feeling of privilege came not from backgrounds but actually from one of appreciation and gratitude and perhaps this is what is sometimes mistaken for elitism. Oxford is an architectural delight to behold, combine that with exposure to some of the sharpest academic minds and latest ideas, resources that are second to none, walking down famous streets, dreamy spires, lush quadrangles and cloisters together with the assumption that you are worthy to be amongst these terribly clever people and it’s a heady mix. There is also a huge amount of pressure to achieve academically and an aura of undoubted competition, particularly in my class, where we were informed in no uncertain terms that any offers would be entirely dependent upon marks and applications could not be discussed until after the first year exams. I thrive under academic pressure, even if I did experience the odd mini meltdown and appreciated every single moment. Perhaps this pressure combined with the knowledge that you are considered to be an academic achiever is what gives Oxbridge graduates something of a veneer of confidence and invincibility which is often perceived as entitlement? Of course one cannot deny that Oxbridge does have a certain cachet and kudos, whilst a top job is not guaranteed by any means to graduates, there can be no doubt that one’s life chances are massively improved.

I guess I am rueful, knowing precisely what it is I’ve given up, but family life does entail sacrifices, being a spouse and parent (of whatever gender) requires selflessness. It’s not so much that where I am now is inferior, it’s just not quite the same, a campus university, although an extremely pleasant one, has a very different feel and of course there are no tutorials.

I had been giving serious consideration as to whether or not to return, given the demands of two young babies, but the forthcoming rise in tuition fees have given added urgency. My institution, unsurprisingly will be charging the full £9k in fees from next year and thus it’s now or never, although I am one of those who would be considerably better off under the new proposals; I already qualify for every single additional grant, the university has awarded me a bursary and I will receive heavily subsidised childcare, without which this just would not be feasible. Under the new system my final loan would be less and I would be re-paying in smaller chunks, but nonetheless I don’t want to delay any further. Given I have a confirmed place on a course at a University whose typical offer is AAA and this year’s unprecedented scramble for places, it would be unmitigated folly not to proceed.

Why am I doing this? For multiple reasons, in the current job market, the lack of degree is being used as a filter when there are huge volumes of applications, regardless of skill-set. I am also fed up with various condescending attitudes I have experienced by virtue of not having those two letters after my name, whereas the reality seems to be that my reasoning skills, critical thinking, lexicon and general knowledge exceed those with better prospects and paper qualifications. A Level grades have lost their impact. Even my dog seems to have 4 As and in my day an A* simply didn’t exist, I was once asked at interview why considering my A levels, my GCSE results weren’t better, numbering mere As and bereft of stars. I am still relatively young and in my 30s, but several career doors are closed. I am considered too ill-educated to enter teaching for example. Effectively I have little other choice career wise.

So minus the temptations of twitter and the net last night, I settled down to some serious reading and finished book 2 of Paradise Lost. I wouldn’t recommend it as a bedtime read; thoughts of a hybrid consisting of half woman and half fish giving birth on an hourly basis to rabid dogs who gnaw at her intestines and Sin and Death building a bridge in Satan’s wake to enable easy access from Hell to Earth through Chaos, certainly focussed the mind during night prayer. Reading reminded me of the predominant and most important reason for my degree: I have a passion for the subject and I enjoy learning. Rather too much I should imagine, in an ideal world a combination of literature, languages, history, theology, philosophy, politics and economics would be perfect. In an ideal world I’d never work again, I’d spend all the time when the children are at school ensconced in a comfy chair and surrounded by bookcases. But when I had a lightbulb moment, recognising all the cultural references that have become part of our everyday unconscious vernacular, when I read about earth being suspended from heaven via a golden chain and other worlds being formed out of “his dark materials”, I experienced the ripples of pleasure and recognition and felt just that little bit richer. When as an avowed proponent of a very small state the following lines gave pause to re-consider my opinion:

“Unacceptable, though in Heaven, our state
Of splendid vassalage; but rather seek
Our own good from ourselves, and from our own
Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess,
Free and to none accountable, preferring
Hard liberty before the easy yoke
Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear
Then most conspicuous…”

And I found myself prompted to ponder on questions of politics, philosophy and theology, via the medium of literature, I realised that not to study would be doing myself and my children an enormous disservice.

Perhaps the loss of a computer will be a beneficial development. Too much surfing leads to to incomplete knowledge and lack of objectivity. In the meantime, I’ll continue to keep my nose to the academic grindstone, as at heart I am something of a Rita. I cannot look at my copy of Blake without lapsing into “oh you can’t dooooo Blake without Innocence and Expeeerience can you”. Nor can I resist the urge to answer every question with “put it on the radio”. And when I find myself considering whether or not Sidney was the ultimate proto-feminist and whether Stella was the new Orpheus, I cannot work out whether to be enormously self-satisfied or whether I am indulging in irrelevant academic pretentiousness. If nothing else, the next three years might well give a little more self-insight in that regard?

I honestly don’t have it in for Nadine Dorries, although I do keep a firm eye on her blog, but I was a little disappointed, if not surprised, to read her statement that “I am no pro-life Catholic”, when she was outlining her position to an interviewer from the Guardian, who thought that her alleged pro-life views stemmed from her Christian faith.

To some extent her faith does play a part, I don’t think Nadine would seek to deny that, but the point she was making was that her particular stance on abortion is based on science and science alone. When it comes to the highly contentious issue of fetal pain prior to 24 weeks, there is much conflicting evidence and thus Nadine came out with the rather unfortunate phrase “I have chosen the ‘fact’ I wish to believe.” I fear this is going to haunt her somewhat. Nadine says that she is motivated by the science alone, in the absence of definitive evidence that a fetus of 20 weeks does not feel pain, she is going to assume that it does until proven otherwise.

Whilst wishing to avoid unnecessary suffering is a commendable approach, it does leave the door open should the science ever be available to prove her wrong, although it is unlikely that the question will able to be satisfactorily resolved. An abortion is going to result in the death of the baby – fetal pain is a separate issue. Surely any pain could be circumvented by administering anaesthetic to the baby prior to the procedure to detach it from the womb and remove it? Whilst Nadine may claim that this is science based, actually her campaign is based on her ethics of wishing to spare undue suffering. A more factually correct turn of phrase would be to state that her stated values and aims of avoiding pain to the soon to be dead child, are rooted in what she believes to be the scientific evidence.

Nadine has criticised churches in the past, in an interview with the Catholic Herald in January, she told Ed West of how ‘she felt badly let down by Christians’ and how ‘the churches have been pathetic’ and how she needs ‘religious support’.

If that is the case, then stating “I am no pro-life Catholic” in somewhat disparaging terms, is not the way to get it.

Furthermore, to be pro-life is not, as I have written countless times, exclusive to a Catholic, Christian or any religious viewpoint, although it is a theme of commonality between all major religions. It is perfectly possible to believe that life starts at conception without any recourse to a deity whatsoever.

To be “neither pro-choice nor pro-life,” is not going to garner support from either Catholics or traditionally pro-life Evangelicals, it’s a wishy-washy sitting on the fence, trying to please everyone and yet pleasing no-one, pro-lifers recognising that this is not a politician who reflects their values and pro-choicers being suspicious of someone who looks to be chipping away at their perceived ‘rights’ by aiming to reduce the abortion time limits.

I do admire Nadine, I do believe that her campaign is based upon a genuine concern for women’s welfare as well as an abhorrence for the repugnant practice of late-term abortion, but I am disappointed that she feels the need to vehemently deny that her beliefs are based upon anything other than science. In her position I would be expressing my faith whilst simultaneously making a compelling moral, ethical, scientific and evidence-based case against abortion. Whilst my faith influences my views on abortion, it should not undermine the argument against abortion to any intelligent and critical thinker.

It says something about society and politics today, that Christianity is still seen as taboo, to admit to being a Christian automatically calls one’s judgement into question. Nadine was clearly on the defensive, when really there is no need to be. The question is not one of fetal pain or viability, but as straightforward as “it is acceptable to kill unborn children”? A negative answer is not indicative of a belief in sky-pixies or spaghetti monsters.

There is no shame in admitting that a value stems from a faith or lack thereof. To attempt to conceal religious belief in politics is to concede defeat to the irrational prejudices of atheist bigots and accept the agenda of those who would contend that faith has no place in politics. According to the likes of Dawkins all our values must be held outside of religious beliefs and based on evidence if they are not to be dismissed as mere ideology, a concept which is ironically itself an ideology.

This is why Nadine Dorries is coming unstuck. As a professed Christian, she is unsuccessfully attempting to separate out her faith and her ethics, which is leaving her open to criticism on both sides. Whilst attempting to peddle the “science” line, she neatly side-steps the issue of her morality or her faith in an attempt to avoid the inevitable personal criticism. The problem is one of credibility; it is difficult for a sceptic and hostile pro-choice lobby to believe that her faith plays no part in her politics, whilst it is equally difficult for pro-life Christians to back a politician who openly states that she is not against abortion, who seeks back-door fudges which avoid the issue at hand and who criticises them, their churches and their faith leaders.

All the science in the world, fetal pain and viability obfuscates the burning ethical question. “Is it right to kill an unborn child”? “You can’t have the death penalty in a civilised society” opined David Cameron yesterday. We have it already, 600 deaths per day.

A clergyman admitted to me the other day that it was with some reluctance that he supported Nadine’s efforts in terms of her Right to Know campaign, his main issue being that she came across as too self-serving, something of a self-promoter. Whilst Nadine obviously needs to be wary of protecting her public image, not least so that she does not undermine her campaigns, when I read statements such as “Are the Guardian out to get me” and her concerns that she might be perceived as “Britain’s answer to Sarah Palin” it does seem indicative of a preoccupation with self-image. The lives of the unborn deserve more than that. At least Sarah Palin, for all her weaknesses is able to be honest about her faith and her unequivocal views on abortion. Palin does not lack the courage of her convictions.

“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven”

I wonder what epithet will be applied to this year? 2011: The Summer of Lies? With public interest in phone-hacking having reached saturation point, the spotlight has turned back onto Johann Hari, who, it can reasonably be inferred, is about to be stripped of his 2008 Orwell Prize for Journalism.

In order to pre-empt and diffuse the inevitable renewal of interest in this story, David Allen Green reminded everyone that Johann Hari is reported as being in a fragile mental state and reminded Hari’s employers at the Independent that they had a duty of care towards him, as well as suggesting that a renewed feeding frenzy and Schadenfreude would not be the most compassionate response. Indeed Guy Walters, Damian Thompson,and David Allen Green (in a later post), all assert that questions need to be asked of the editors of the Independent.

I would agree. It seems to me that all newspaper editors need to be reminded of their duties of responsibility to both their readership and their young journalists. Factual inaccuracies should not be allowed to be passed off as truth.

As I said a few days previously, I was incensed by the lack of judgement on behalf of the New Statesman in relation to Laurie Penny’s article. What Laurie had done was to base her entire article around two lies, entirely unnecessarily. The points she wished to make could have been equally well articulated without needing to resort to untruths. These untruths were nothing more than assumptions or suppositions, ones that needed further explanation and examination and should not have been allowed to be printed unchallenged as truth.

This is important, not because of the issue that was under discussion, but because people still tend to believe and trust in the kind of journalism and opinion pieces of reputable and quality publications. Critique and criticism is vital but it must be based on truth, otherwise any debate and discussion will be meaningless, and any change or reforms brought about by such debate will be misconceived and ineffectual.

I confess to having experienced a touch of Schadenfreude having watched what happened to Johann Hari, because his writing indirectly contributed to a great deal of the abuse and haranguing I received on-line for my defence of Catholicism. In the run up to the Papal visit of last September, acres of column inches were devoted to attacking the Pope, the Vatican, the Holy See and Catholicism in general, not only for the child-abuse scandal, but also in relation to Catholic doctrine regarding sexual ethics. Ill-informed anti-catholic propaganda was being peddled across the media and the internet, anti-catholicism was seen as an acceptable prejudice and catholics everywhere were being pounced upon if they dared to speak up in support of their faith and their pontiff. There was concern that this prejudice had the capacity to turn violent.

I experienced this on-line, to some extent I still do. In the run up to the Papal visit, I commented that David Cameron seemed very enthusiastic to welcome the Pope and capture and explore the Catholic teaching on social justice, he was keen to draw parallels between his big society and Catholic social teaching. By pointing this out and generally defending the Pope’s visit, it was claimed that I was manic and on the edge of a mental breakdown.

In the midst of all this Johann Hari published an article chock full of inaccuracies in which he stated Catholics who supported the papal visit were “cheering a man who facilitated the rape of your children” and that to to support him was to endorse “his crimes and cruelties”. It was nothing other than libelous offensive rhetoric based upon his own irrational prejudices. Hari smeared and slandered the Pope offering absolutely no evidence for his assertions, other than alluding to a canon law document that he clearly did not understand, nor was going to take the trouble to interpret (several canon law specialists could have explained and contextualised it to him) and some cases of child abuse in the US, which had absolutely no links to the Pope whatsoever, but were great for upping the emotional ante and outrage. Thomas Bridge competently fisks the article here.

This article was syndicated everywhere, even the Daily Mail published it, and it was responsible for a surge of criticism. Catholics everywhere were dismayed by Hari’s distortions, his hysteria and his patronising language. Hari’s implications were clear. Catholics were obviously very stupid if kindly and generally benign individuals who didn’t understand their own religion. Hari would condescendingly deign to explain to them what the Gospels really meant, what Jesus would really think and he would have absolutely no problem with them being Catholics, so long as they didn’t agree with a large portion of their Church’s teaching and they attempted to get their leader arrested on his say-so. “Catholics, I implore you” he bleated. If Catholics didn’t agree with him, they were either ignorant, bigots or defenders of child abuse, probably a mixture of all three, but to be despised at any rate.

I had this article sent to me countless times. “Look Caroline, look, see what your pope has done, Johann Hari says it here and he’s always so right about everything. It’s the Independent, they are never biased, why are you so blind, why can’t you look and see”…Bleurgh. It did nothing for the morning sickness. Someone went so far as to say “you would stand by, watch a priest rape your daughter and do absolutely nothing about it. In fact you’d probably encourage it and then blame or disbelieve your daughter”. Somewhat unsurprisingly I snapped.

Since then I’ve never been particularly disposed to our Mr Hari. His polemics were too emotive and too sanctimonious by half and I could never be sure exactly how trustworthy they were, given his propensity to twist the facts. If anyone tried to engage with him, to point out the factual errors and ask him to consider alternative points of view then he simply blocked them. He wrote an article in a similar vein about Muslims, about how Muslim women needed to be shown what their faith really meant, how they needed to have it properly explained to them.

He seemed to suffer from a condition coined by the Curt Jester – homophobia-phobia. An irrational fear or aversion to homophobia, a contagion which seems to be spreading across the press. He wrote another article, beautifully disseminated by Quiet Riot Girl here, about homophobic bullying. Anyone who had any opposition to the notion of gay marriage or of two homosexual people buying into heterosexual norms of marriage and family and objecting to same-sex couples’ use of surrogacy had the blood of dead schoolchildren on their hands. Again, I was sent this article countless times, in some sort of effort to make me change my evil and abhorrent views. (Just to point out, I am categorically NOT homophobic, I have no fear, aversion or hatred of people with same-sex attraction; I defend the Catholic position and the vast majority of my time I have much better things to think about than the sexual peccadilloes, whatever they might be, of other people.).

I wrote about Hari’s ill-conceived campaign to attempt to persuade people to give up a benefit which they are yet to be granted, which grated for several reasons. The response was to cry “Homophobe!”, something of a non-sequitur and a link to said article on homophobic bullying together with a threat to run and snitch to Hari about my “twisted lifestyle”.

My beef with Johann Hari was how he twisted the truth to suit his own ends. Hari is a great writer. His rhetoric has a hypnotic and compelling quality. I can see how easy it is to be drawn into his narrative, but what is infuriating is that The Independent allowed him a platform from which to speak unchecked. The very fact that they were willing to publish him, cemented his reputation amongst his equally young, ideological and gullible readership, who understandably thought that his work had been edited and fact-checked. The Independent with their high standards of journalism wouldn’t publish falsehoods would they? Lately Hari seemed to be on a collision course, almost everything he wrote was critiqued somewhere, he would write lengthy polemics and have an opinion on almost anything, with very little factual grasp of the subject matter in hand, as Tim Worstall demonstrated when he laid into him for his misunderstanding of economics.

Any criticism of Hari was put down to either homophobia, jealousy of his status or age or simply due to opposing ideology, he was the great St Hari, the great campaigner, his views were sacrosanct. I think people were simply over-awed by both his Cambridge degree, his undoubted passion, however misguided, and his complex prose – full of obscure words and neologisms. Ironically I rather enjoyed his interviews, it seemed to me that this was the most honest aspect of his work, the notion of plagiarism did not occur. For those of us who do occasionally get our work published elsewhere, Hari’s actions are galling. I meticulously check everything before submitting work that is going to be published either on another website, or in print. I had nightmares about receiving a lawsuit from George Weigel prior to my piece in the Catholic Herald on John Paul 2 at Easter, given that I had relied on his biography for historical background.

As for Hari’s alleged sock-puppetry on Wikipedia, that is serious matter, as it could, if left unchecked or unedited have ruined lives and reputations. Johann is obviously extremely fragile and pathologically unable to handle any sort of criticism at all. He seems to have become dependent upon his reputation, to crave the glory, the pundits, the accolades and the fame. Who can blame him? It must be heady stuff and it seems that without it, his life is empty, devoid of meaning. There is an irony in the winner of the Orwell Prize covertly operating his own Ministry of Truth.

I said on Jack of Kent’s blog that Hari is a modern day tragic hero, a Henchard or Lear of our time. The Greek word hamartia or tragic flaw is especially apt given that it can encapsulate accident or mistake, as well as error or wrongdoing. I hope that like a tragic hero he can find his redemption and we our catharsis.

I think Johann Hari still has a career, he certainly has the makings of a novelist or even a poet about him. Sir Philip Sidney held that poetry should be mimetic, that it should imitate

” it is a representing, counterfeiting, or figuring forth–to speak metaphorically, a speaking picture–with this end, to teach and delight…the poets only ever deliver a golden”.

Hari was certainly an artist or word-smith and in the words of Wilde. “No great artist ever sees things as they really are. If he did he would cease to be an artist.”

I think similar could be levelled at Laurie Penny, who is of an ilk to Hari and for whom concern has been expressed, her highly controversial writing often results with her at the receiving end of personal attack, although she has not been particularly circumspect on her attacks on other people; recent examples include praising Amy Winehouse for spitting at Pippa Middleton and calling Damian Thompson a pathetic excuse for humanity.

Both Hari and Laurie must be seen more as artists than journalists, it can be the only explanation as to why they are allowed so much poetic licence and not pulled up on their loose and sloppy reporting of facts. They want to spin a narrative, create a golden, a talking picture, one that corresponds with their own world view.

Like Philip Sidney, the young courtier to Queen Elizabeth, both have “great expectations” placed upon them, due to their age and stratospheric rise. Like Sidney, Hari must be thinking:

“In words, like weeds, I’ll wrap me o’er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold”

If he were writing today I wonder if Tennyson might have written “In Tweets like weeds”? The sentiment is as applicable to the group Internet mentality today as it was to a private individual mourning the death of his beloved friend in 1833.

Via the medium of twitter we can all express our sadness at the tragic and untimely death of Amy Winehouse. In 140 characters we pour out our horror at the events in Oslo. In one concise phrase we encapsulate the suffering of the victims of the famine in Sudan. A brief moment spent reading the profound thoughts of others, adding our sentiments before moving on.

Immersed in Twitter, armoured by words we don’t really have to think too deeply. We don’t need to engage on a meaningful level and yet we can live tragedies vicariously. These past few weeks have felt seminal, there’s been a palpable seismic shift in attitudes, Twitter has broken news and formed views.

Events seem blown out of all proportion. A very talented young woman has been found dead. The BBC has just devoted well over an hour’s coverage on News 24, interviewing amongst others, the owner of her local restaurant where she would sometimes pop in for a take-away or the bloke who struck up a friendship with her on holiday.

It is sad. We can all feel like we’re caught up in some major world event and whilst getting wrapped up in the superficial grief (and it is superficial, unless you knew her, how can it be anything else) we can experience the modern day version of a Greek tragedy via the news with Twitter cast into the role of the chorus.

Wrapped in the validation of others we feel less alone and by looking to what others say we feel more confident and secure in our own opinions. We don’t have to focus on our own mortality, we can procrastinate by dwelling on the death of another in a maudlin, narcissistic fashion. By expressing “grief” for a total stranger, we are admitting and projecting our grief and terror of our own mortality.

And if Tweets are today’s widow’s weeds, we must ask why we need them, why do we look for shelter in the virtual, not the real? What has happened today is not real, in the sense that it is not going to affect us beyond evoking sympathy and regret. What is going to affect us, what is of real value and worth is how we live our lives, for Christians how we live out the Gospel, where we see suffering and loss, what are going to do in practical and meaningful terms to alleviate, comfort and soothe the pain, tragedy and grief that we see all around us, not just on the TV or internet. That has to go beyond the self-indulgent “how do I feel about this”, “how may I express it”, on-line self affirming group hug.

Time to go beyond the verbiage.

“Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within”.

Particularly when they are limited to 140 characters.