Bingley Analogue
This Saturday saw the first (of many, I hope) Bingley Climate Café upstairs from Hedgehog Organics in the Feel Good Hub studio space. The initiative of Chris Grayston, inspired by the local community showings of "The People's Emergency Briefing", it was lovely to see a nice big group of people turn out to discuss how we might respond, locally, to the challenge of climate change effects.
If there was a theme coming from the discussion, it was a desire for closer community and radical, localised initiatives to boost resilience. I think there was agreement that whilst it was important to keep the pressure on politicians nationally, we'll probably make better use of our time taking action locally.
For our part, Hedgehog Organics have started work on an emergency plan so that in the event of widespread and extended electricity cuts, internet failure, fuel shortages or other disruptions from extreme weather events, we'll still be able to trade and help in some way towards providing food to Bingley residents.
Personally, I'd like to tackle another issue and I think we'll find that inadvertently, it'll help in our climate change resilience. Here is my idea:
I think the world has become just too digital. It has, through the tools that have developed from its massive, fast data streams, enriched a few, sped up the extraction and destruction of ecology, polarised debate, reduced civilised discourse to the banal and abusive, increased our anxiety and made us busier, not more leisured.
A growing number of news stories about ever more audacious cyber attacks has also demonstrated how, by making everything 'online', we have become vulnerable to the whim of corporations and the nefarious ambitions of a new breed of "terrorists". (I write it that way because, whilst deliberately heating up masses of chilled and frozen food via the medium of remote keyboard strokes is disruptive and wasteful, it has had the effect of waking people up to one of the key fragilities of our mad, just-in-time food system.)
Whilst I would acknowledge that some very wholesome and useful things have emerged from the digital transition, and I'm not proposing the establishment of some kind of D-total abstinence cult, I would like to see what happens if we start something that is much less reliant on the digital realm, see if it improves our mental health, our happiness and builds some strength into our local community.
What I propose is quite simple - a meet-up where we all bring one or more things in a book (or a scribbled scrap of paper, or simply from memory, or even what is on our mind in the moment) and one person kicks off and reads it to the group. The rest of us listen, contemplate and then respond. It could be from any genre, fiction or non-fiction, poetry or prose, highbrow or pop culture, any language (although a bit of translation might be helpful). You might even prefer to give us a piece of music or song.
To be clear. This isn’t designed to be group therapy, but my hope is that people find it variously healing and helpful. It's not quite a book club - nobody needs to read a whole book beforehand, although I hope we'll share some of the conviviality of one. It's not a folk club either, although I like the idea of taking turns, joining in and sharing music or stories. Nor is it a poetry slam, although I hope it'll be lively, entertaining and occasionally surprising. Perhaps there's a little of the old-fashioned French salon about it too, where people gathered simply to exchange ideas and enjoy one another's company. But they were apparently stuffy and exclusive. The British Bluestocking gatherings are probably closer to the mark! There'd be no prescribed subject, no homework and no expectation that anyone has to perform or even speak. Just bring something that interests, moves, amuses or challenges you, and see where it takes us.
I'm not keen on rules, but neither do I like chaos, so I'm proposing a few guidelines to help orientate us:
Making space for everyone: All kinds of contributions would be welcome - conversation, thoughts, stories, readings, poetry, music - but there would be no obligation to contribute; listening is just as valuable. As a general guide, I'd suggest a maximum of five minutes per person for any individual reading, story, musical performance or other prepared contribution, rather than a limit on general conversation. Longer contributions could be accommodated by agreement. We'd encourage everyone to listen as well as speak, be mindful of how much space they take up, and make room for quieter voices. Those who haven't yet contributed should have the opportunity before others take a second turn. Bring anything to be explored, questioned or understood; nothing simply to provoke, intimidate or demean. Anyone deliberately disregarding this understanding might be politely asked to leave. These wouldn't be rigid rules, just shared understandings to help things flow naturally, fairly and enjoyably. And there'd be no need to fill every silence!
Keeping it analogue: The idea is to create a space away from the digital world, both in how we come together and what we do when we're there. I'd propose that meetings be publicised only by word of mouth or on paper - through personal invitations, posters, flyers and the like - rather than through websites, social media or other online channels. We'd leave phones and other digital devices at home, or at least switched off and put away during gatherings. Wherever possible, we'd seek out things to share from books, newspapers, magazines and other physical sources rather than the internet. If there's enough interest, we might eventually provide a vinyl turntable and cassette deck so that people could bring along and share favourite recordings.
Of course, digital technology has become so entwined with everyday life that it may sometimes find its way into our contributions, inadvertently or unavoidably. That would be no cause for concern or criticism. The idea isn't to impose rigid rules or demand analogue purity, but to make a conscious, collective effort to rediscover and enjoy the analogue world.
I don't know quite what Bingley Analogue might become, or even whether there's sufficient appetite for it. That's something I'd rather discover together than try to prescribe in advance. And Bingley Analogue is only a working title. If you've a better name, bring it along!
I'm conscious of the irony of using a blog to propose a gathering intended to escape the digital world. In fact, it's been bothering me enough to put off writing this for weeks! But having floated the idea at Saturday's Climate Café, and not been shouted down, I've decided to take the plunge.
So here's the deal: this is the first and last time you'll see Bingley Analogue promoted online. From here on, it'll be word of mouth and bits of paper. There are few loose ends to tidy up after all, such as where, when, for how long and how often. The next instalment will appear on the Hedgehog Organics noticeboard, so keep your eyes peeled and your analogue nose sniffing..
In the meantime, do discuss this with me, preferably in person or in your best calligraphy!