It’s safe to say I would rather saw my own arm off than spend an evening at a One Direction gig. So my sympathy for the ‘hordes’ of teenage girls who not only have to struggle on a daily basis with their crippling lack of musical taste but who were also reportedly denied entry to the performance by said boy ‘band’ at G-A-Y on Saturday night (on the grounds that said girls were, y’know, straight) was always going to be somewhat limited, regardless of the actual rights and wrongs of the issue. But even putting my musical prejudices aside, G-A-Y promoter Jeremy Joseph is in the right on this.

Image: purpaboo/flickr

Discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation is against the law, of course, as duly reinforced by yesterday’s court judgement against the B&B owners who got all hot and bothered (interpret that as you choose) at the thought of all the sinful things two men who were sharing a bed could get up to. And it has to be admitted that this might put gay clubs in a slightly tricky position, since their whole raison d’être is to be places where LGBT people go to meet one another (and let’s be frank, probably hook up, since that seems to be the point of most clubs).

I’m not really interested in focusing on the law on this as it currently exists; gay clubs seem to have functioned perfectly well thus far without attracting any Equality and Human Rights Commission-sponsored lawsuits, and I doubt that’s going to change any time soon. True, there are vast legions of assorted morons who love to point to the isolated and insignificant instances of discrimination against straight middle-class white men as evidence that they’re victims too (and equality’s all very well but these days it’s all gone too far and did you hear about that terrible Winterval business?), but they’re probably too busy working themselves into a lather over whatever the Express is telling them to hate this week to be a problem. Nor am I getting into the vexed question of precisely how the door staff at gay clubs judge would-be revellers’ sexual orientation – though admittedly it does seem like that can be a pretty unpleasant experience, as Jack Cullen’s Guardian post above makes clear. No, it’s the ethics of the act of discrimination itself that interest me. How is Jeremy Joseph’s decision to exclude non-LGBT One Direction fans from G-A-Y different from Peter and Hazel Bull’s aversion to man-love in their B&B?

I don’t think it’s sufficient just to argue that being barred from a club for being straight is a trivial sort of discrimination. Aside from anything else, not being allowed to share a bed with your partner for a night or two isn’t that terrible an ordeal in itself either. The relevant point, I think, is pretty simple. Straight devotees of One Direction aren’t a particularly marginalised or oppressed group in society, while homophobia, despite the massive improvement in attitudes and legal rights over the past decade and a half or so, is still very much with us. It’s easy to see why cases like the killings of Jody Dobrowski and Ian Baynham could make some LGBT people wary of being open about their sexuality in their day-to-day lives, and gay clubs can to some extent act as safe spaces to allow them to be themselves.

But even if you’re convinced by that, surely (I hear you cry) you couldn’t have anti-discrimination laws which allow some clubs to refuse entrance to straight people, but not B&B owners to refuse a double room to gay people? But why not? It’s already perfectly legal for rape crisis centres and women’s refuges to specify in recruitment ads that their support workers have to be female. Sure, gay clubs aren’t offering quite as vital a service as rape crisis centres do, but the principle’s pretty similar. Society is better off with gay clubs than without them, and without some means of ensuring that their clientele is mainly LGBT, they would cease to function as gay clubs. B&Bs, on the other hand, don’t cease to function as B&Bs if same-sex couples patronise them and choose to share beds, and any Christians who run those B&Bs don’t cease to be Christians if they permit it.

It’s important to emphasise that this categorically isn’t a libertarian argument; I don’t think gay clubs should be allowed to have discriminatory admissions policies just because they’re private businesses, I think they should be allowed to do so because it’s beneficial for society to have safe spaces for LGBT people. And the right to a place where you can associate with like-minded people and be yourself certainly needn’t just apply to the LGBT community; if the Bulls wanted to exclude gay couples from a prayer meeting they were holding, they’d be perfectly entitled to do so. But that’s a very different proposition from running a B&B. If B&Bs ever start to be considered safe spaces for minorities, that would be a different matter.

This week’s overturning of Proposition 8 in California is obviously welcome news. Amending California’s state constitution to state that “only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California” is nakedly discriminatory and Judge Vaughn Walker’s decision to strike it down should be applauded.

There is, though, something else that’s important to note about this case; it’s a clear example of a member of the judiciary overriding the democratically expressed will of the people. Proposition 8 was put to a referendum at the same time as the 2008 Presidential election, and 52% voted yes – a slim but clear majority. Judge Walker’s decision was unambiguously anti-democratic. Stopping same-sex couples from marrying is wrong for many reasons, but one area on which it certainly doesn’t impinge is democratic rights. And what this demonstrates, I suggest, is that the revolutionary left vision of a society run as democratically as possible might not be without serious drawbacks.

For a liberal, there are certain universal individual rights and liberties which merit legal protection regardless of what majority opinion might be. The right of two (or more, as I argue here) consenting adults to access all the legal benefits of marriage if they so choose is, in my opinion, worthy of this protection, so as a social (though definitely not an economic) liberal I’m entirely comfortable with Judge Walker’s decision. But for the revolutionary left, one of the many benefits which the overthrow of capitalism will bring is more democracy, and in particular more direct democracy, in as many areas of life as possible. Our present system of representative parliamentary democracy is argued to be little more than a sham; a tool to safeguard the interests of the rich and powerful – and the same (presumably) goes for undemocratic checks on legislative power like the judiciary. But given what’s happened with Prop 8, and with other cases where good reforms were passed in the teeth of popular opposition (Roy Jenkins’ abolition of capital punishment and his decriminalisation of abortion and male homosexual sex in the 1960s are often cited as examples), it seems hard to argue that public opinion always knows best.

I’m aware, of course, that the revolutionary left’s advocacy of more democracy doesn’t entail believing that democratic decisions are always right. A Marxist, might, for example, argue that people can act or vote in ways antithetical to their own interests or those of their class because the true nature of economic relations under capitalism is obscured, which leads to false consciousness, and that in a communist society this wouldn’t happen. But with social issues like tolerance towards sexual minorities it seems a little hard to argue that capitalism must necessarily foment bigotry, not least because it’s hard to see precisely how stirring up homophobia or racism benefits the ruling class in and of itself. Apart from anything else, one of the major arguments used by opponents of Prop 8 was that legalising same-sex marriages would bring money into California’s economy (see this video from 2:03 onwards, for example) – something you’d think the bourgeoisie would generally be in favour of. So, assuming we’re agreed that equal rights for sexual minorities are worth safeguarding regardless of what majority opinion might be on the matter, and assuming that homophobic attitudes can’t just be put down to the distorting effects of capitalism, it seems hard to escape the conclusion that those pesky liberal checks and balances on democracy are pretty important.

I’m aware that there’s a real danger that what I’m arguing here could come off as elitist. Maybe it is. But I’d rather live in an elitist liberal society where unpopular but harmless minorities are undemocratically protected from the tyranny of the majority than in a totally democratic commune with no safeguards against bigotry. Maybe that’s a false dichotomy, but like any other decision-making process, democracy is and will always be fallible. I’m aware that my knowledge of revolutionary socialist and anarchist theory is severely limited, and anyone who can explain why I’m wrong about this is more than welcome to do so. But unless and until that happens I’ll remain firmly of the belief that more democracy isn’t always something to be welcomed.

(For the benefit of any new readers, FJM is explained here. But to be honest, it’s not very complicated. You’ll probably get the idea pretty quickly.)

It’s been a good week, both for the liberal left and for Twitter. First there was the whole Trafigura thing, which finally came to a decisive end yesterday evening, when the injunction on the Minton Report into the toxic waste dumping was lifted. This followed the lifting earlier in the week of the injunction against reporting a Parliamentary question mentioning it, which was what sparked off the whole thing. But before that came to an end, a whole new storm of outrage was brewing over Jan Moir’s egregiously offensive piece in Friday’s Mail, which, thanks once again to a campaign on Twitter, attracted a huge number of complaints and not a few derisory reactions from the rest of Fleet Street and the blogosphere. So a few hours later she decided to try and explain herself, in a manner wholly deserving of being FJM’d:

Some people, particularly in the gay community, have been upset by my article about the sad death of Boyzone member Stephen Gately. This was never my intention. Stephen, as I pointed out in the article was a charming and sweet man who entertained millions.

Um, I really don’t think most people were upset because they thought you saw Gately as charmless or sour. But I suppose you can never be sure about these things.

However, the point of my column-which, I wonder how many of the people complaining have fully read –

Hang on, you’re a columnist for the Daily Mail, and you’re claiming that the criticism you’re on the end of is nothing but an uninformed kneejerk reaction? This is truly special.

…was to suggest that, in my honest opinion, his death raises many unanswered questions. That was all. Yes, anyone can die at anytime of anything. However, it seems unlikely to me that what took place in the hours immediately preceding Gately’s death – out all evening at a nightclub, taking illegal substances, bringing a stranger back to the flat, getting intimate with that stranger – did not have a bearing on his death. At the very least, it could have exacerbated an underlying medical condition.

O…kay. First, you didn’t say that there were ‘unanswered questions’ about Gately’s death, you categorically stated that ‘Whatever the cause of death is, it is not, by any yardstick, a natural one.’ So now you’re just lying, very clumsily. Second, you’ve already been taken apart by any number of people (see links above) for implying you magically know the circumstances of Gately’s death better than the qualified coroner who examined his body. Doing the same thing again really isn’t helping you.

The entire matter of his sudden death seemed to have been handled with undue haste when lessons could have been learned.

Ooh, what lessons might these be? Please enlighten us.

On this subject, one very important point.  When I wrote that ‘he would want to set an example to any impressionable young men who may want to emulate what they might see as his glamorous routine’, I was referring to the drugs and the casual invitation extended  to a stranger. Not to the fact of his homosexuality.

Got that, kids? Drugs and casual sex might not have had anything to do with Gately’s death, but they’re still bad, mmmkay? I hear he didn’t always get his five fruit and veg a day either. Maybe his death could teach us a lesson about the importance of eating our greens?

In writing that ‘it strikes another blow to the happy-ever-after myth of civil partnerships’ I was suggesting that civil partnerships – the introduction of which I am on the record in supporting – have proved just to be as problematic as marriages.

Fair point. Of course, it would help if you could cite a single case of someone arguing that civil partnerships wouldn’t have the same problems that marriages do, since without that all you’ve got there is a pathetic straw man argument, but I suppose I’m quibbling over details here.

In what is clearly a heavily orchestrated internet campaign I think it is mischievous in the extreme to suggest that my article has homophobic and bigoted undertones.

So…your grand finale is to insinuate that the protests about this article are some kind of gigantic conspiracy rather than the result of people actually being genuinely offended? Sterling job there. If for some reason you find yourself looking for work in the near future, maybe Carter Ruck’s PR department could hire you?

Image: makelessnoise

As you may or may not have noticed, there’s recently been a series of ads in various places urging us all to give blood. This is because the National Blood Service (NBS) wants us all to donate now so it can boost its stocks before the winter when we’re all going to have swine flu so we won’t be able to donate. However, the well-informed among you will know that my use of “all” in that last sentence was an exaggeration. Among other restrictions, they don’t want you to give blood if you weigh less than 50kg, if you’ve recently travelled to a malarial zone…or if you’re male and you’ve ever had sex with another man. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this last restriction has proved somewhat controversial, and a number of commentators have at various times attacked it as homophobic, most recently this guy on the Guardian website today.

It’s probably best to leave aside the thorny metaphysical issue of precisely which entity Charlie Critchley and his fellow critics are accusing of homophobia (the Chief Executive of the NBS? The organisation itself? Some of its employees?), so let’s focus on two questions. First, is the NBS right to have this ban? Second, is the ban evidence of homophobia? On the first question, I’m prepared to remain agnostic. The NBS has a pretty detailed and, as far as I can tell, sensible explanation of the reasons for its ban, and some of the criticisms of the policy are simply misguided – witness Peter Tatchell’s completely erroneous claim (albeit not repeated in any of his subsequent writings on the subject) that the ban covers “[m]en whose homosexual experience is limited to a few mutual wanks behind the school bike sheds”, when it quite explicitly only applies to oral or anal sex. Equally, though, there seems little reason (for example) to exclude from donating men who haven’t had sex with other men since before the AIDS epidemic, and plenty of other countries have lifted their own blanket bans in the past few years.

But even if the NBS is wrong to have the blanket ban in place, it doesn’t follow that we should conclude that the ban is the product of homophobia. Bear in mind here that the NBS is in constant, urgent need of blood supplies. If you visit their homepage, one of the first things that catches your eye is a gif reading, “WE ARE RUNNING LOW OF BLOOD GROUP O NEG, B NEG AND AB NEG. WE NEED NEW DONORS NOW”. The accusation of homophobia, if correct, would mean that the NBS (or its employees or whoever) is unnecessarily putting the lives of those who need blood at risk simply because of a prejudice against gay men. This could indeed be the case. But how plausible is it? Inferring that the very existence of a ban is evidence of homophobia seems uncharitable to say the least. The NBS also bans from donating anyone who has themselves had a blood transfusion in the past 30 years, on the basis of a single case where vCJD (aka Mad Cow Disease) might have been transmitted via blood transfusion. Given this, it seems far more likely that all the NBS’s restrictions on donation are the result of extreme caution (as suggested by the assertion, from the PDF linked to above, that “any transmission as a result of a change in policy would be one too many”), rather than homophobia.

I can understand that the donation ban might feel unpleasant and stigmatising for gay and bisexual men who want to donate blood. And it’s quite possible that the ban is misguided and should be repealed. But deciding who should and shouldn’t be allowed to give blood requires the very careful weighing up of different risk factors, including the disproportionately high incidence of HIV among men who have sex with men. Angry accusations of homophobia aren’t going to make that decision any simpler.

Guest post by Jon Small

The latest character from Sacha Baron Cohen’s entourage of grotesques to hit the big screen is Brüno, the gay-as-a-lamp-post presenter of Austria’s number one fashion show, Funkyzeit. Brüno began life as a minor character in Baron Cohen’s television shows for Paramount Comedy and Channel 4’s Da Ali G Show. As with the Borat film in 2006, Brüno’s transition from the small to the big screen has given Baron Cohen and his team of writers (including The Day Today’s Peter Baynham) an opportunity to widen and deepen the character’s satirical reach from the absurd skits and fake interviews which characterise the TV appearances to a sustained assault on good taste and mediocrity wherever they are found.

Borat is a tough act to follow, and some elements of Brüno will seem remarkably familiar. This film’s “plot” also centres on a peculiar foreigner who travels to the USA, engaging on a somewhat pointless quest. The film has the same story arc as Borat, and we even find some of the same scenes repeated almost verbatim, such as when Brüno, abandoned by his only friend, finds himself destitute and alone and has a sudden moment of self revelation: he must become straight! The plot is of course merely incidental, it’s simply an excuse to string together a series of carefully edited encounters with minor celebrities, PR gurus and ordinary people. Brüno’s faux-naivety acts as a tool to expose the prejudices and mediocrity of mainstream America.

The targets for Sacha Baron Cohen’s satire in Brüno are varied. Starting off in Brüno’s native environment of high fashion, the opening of the film reprises the TV series’ attacks on that absurdly shallow and self-important world. But a satire directed entirely against catwalk fashionistas would be thin indeed, and this was one of the limitations of Brüno’s character in Da Ali G Show: the fashion world is self-parodying and is in little need of even more comedic absurdity than can already be seen in haute couture and the journalism industry that surrounds it. Thankfully, then, after a faux pas involving a velcro suit, Brüno is sacked from his role as presenter of Funkyzeit and travels to America to seek global fame. Cue a series of encounters with members of the fame industry in LA: Brüno meets a high-power celebrity agent and two clueless valley-girl PR consultants. These can’t string together a coherent sentence and try to decide which would be the best cause to adopt in order for a newcomer to make a name for himself: “global warming is big these days,” “oh, fantastisch!”

Along with vapid celebrity culture, Brüno also tackles politics. He briefly travels to Israel and attempts to solve the Palestine question, in a parody of empty-headed celebrity meddling in the world of “issues”. Brüno brings together a former Mossad agent and a Palestinian politician, making huge advances towards peace in the Middle East by getting them to agree that hummus is actually a good thing. Sacha Baron Cohen even manages to interview a (genuine) member of the Al-Aqsa Martyr’s Brigade terrorist organisation, telling him that “King Osama looks like a dirty wizard,” demonstrating not only his own bravado but the dexterous verbal wit that marks the script’s intelligent humour. Most of the film’s subjects are either unsuspecting or actively hostile, and Brüno’s raison d’etre is to be abused and thrown out, which Baron Cohen pulls off with fearless disregard for his personal safety.

Half the fun is trying to guess which of the situations Brüno finds himself in are set ups and which are genuine unscripted encounters. As with Borat, there is a mix of both: it is part carefully-written and skilfully executed physical comedy and planned improvisation, and part genuinely dangerous and edgy media pranksterism. The interview with ex-Presidential candidate Ron Paul that turns into an attempt to make a celebrity sex tape is the latter, with an obviously shocked and flustered Paul storming out, declaring that the man is “as queer as blazes.” (Brüno apparently thought he was RuPaul, an easy mistake to make.) There is of course an element of cruelty in Sacha Baron Cohen’s pranks, but most of the people he chooses as the butt of his jokes are putting themselves in the public spotlight, or worse, declaring themselves authorities on their chosen subject. As such, puncturing their self-regard is fair game.

Those few subjects who respond with humour and largesse come off well, though Brüno keeps on pushing until he gets a response. One aspect of Borat which made me slightly uneasy was the inclusion of so many ordinary people who, while hilariously stupid, were nonetheless unsuspecting, and revealed nothing more than their own stupidity. The satire in Brüno is more sharply focused, with more minor celebrities and self-declared experts being lampooned. Those ‘ordinary’ members of the public who become the target of Baron Cohen’s penetrating derision in this film often turn out to be genuinely nasty pieces of work rather than simply dim.

The Alabama hunters with whom Brüno spends a night in order to overcome his gayness respond at first with strained good humour and some great comebacks, but when confronted by a fully nude Sacha Baron Cohen in the middle of the night (and Sacha is an impressively large man), they are pushed beyond breaking point. The satire is not consistently focused though, and some elements descend into what appears to be simply baiting for the sake of response. The studio audience of Richard Bey’s chat show may be homophobic and crass, but showing them Brüno’s adopted African baby being photographed with a swarm of bees or present at a gay orgy seems to be an attempt simply to enrage with no purpose other than to provoke an emotive reaction. What impresses about Sacha Baron Cohen’s humour is that it is consistently at the edge of what is acceptable, it is never comfortable, predictable or safe: this kind of comedy has to be dangerous, it has to make you cringe. Sometimes this film misses its target, but more often than not it hits it squarely between the eyes.

Criticisms of Baron Cohen’s approach are levelled quickly and loudly by those on all sides who miss the point he is trying to make. When Borat came out we were earnestly warned about the dangers of stereotyping and belittling the population of Kazakhstan, Borat’s home country. But anyone who regards the surreal representation of Borat’s village with its cast of clinically insane misfits and inbreds, and its annual “Running of the Jew” parade as a belittling stereotype has fallen right into the bear trap set by the satirist. Stereotypes have to be at least partly accurate, and this one is so absurd that to be offended by it demonstrates your own prejudice. The characters of Ali G, Borat and Brüno act as magnifying mirrors to the minds and personalities of those they interview, and of those who watch. Your response to these creations reveals your own assumptions, and we’re all tricked into revealing more about ourselves than we think. That’s where the genius of these characters lies, and it is the mark of successful and incisive satire. Brüno has quickly attracted the criticism that Baron Cohen’s creation presents a harmful gay stereotype: an image of mindless camp tastelessness. But it is precisely this lampoon which acts as possibly the sharpest tool of the film’s satire, revealing unthinking and viscerally prejudiced responses and attitudes towards homosexuality. What some seem happy to take as being broadly representative of homosexuality is in fact simply representative of crass stupidity, regardless of sexual orientation. Sacha Baron Cohen has a knack of pinpointing the small-minded assumptions of those who think they’re being politically correct.

Those who criticise this film for its supposed detraction of homosexuality utterly miss the point. Brüno uses his flamboyant and shameless gayness to reveal what are often aggressively homophobic responses from his interviewees. The deep south Christian “gay converters” and the Westboro Baptist Church’s “God Hates Fags” picket line are prime targets for Sacha Baron Cohen’s attack on prejudice, small mindedness and ignorance. Brüno telling the rather effete gay converter that he has “blow job lips” and becoming physically entangled with the God Hates Fags brigade while in flagrante, dressed in full bondage gear are not only hilarious but important and damning social criticism. At its best this film is true satire: an attempt to puncture and deride stupidity and prejudice. By confronting these bigots with their own worst nightmare Baron Cohen sometimes reveals the intriguing dichotomy at the heart of homophobia: the audience for the cage fight at the end of the film are eager to shout so loudly about their heterosexuality that you wonder exactly what they’re trying to hide. Brüno’s beautifully choreographed fight with his personal assistant turns into a tender scene of homosexual intimacy right before the eyes of the baying crowd, and he is confronted by an aggressive mob of individuals who can’t decide whether to cry or do him physical harm. The best comedy challenges and disrupts expectations, and this film is full of surprises and shocking absurdity; quite an achievement after Borat, which this film matches or betters. This is barbed satire with no tolerance for prejudice and ignorance. It’s a joy to watch because while the satire is pitiless, Baron Cohen’s insightful, intelligent and generous humanism always shines through. It’s funny as hell, too.

Creating a successful spin-off of a popular television series – a precarious balancing act between pleasing fans of the original and building a distinct brand – is a notoriously hit and miss affair. For every Star Trek: The Next Generation there’s a Joey. The anagrammatical Torchwood is Russell T. Davies’s attempt to explore more adult themes in the Doctor Who universe starring one of The Doctor’s most popular companions, Captain Jack Harkness (John Barrowman), and his crack team of alien investigators. The first two series made for enjoyable enough watching – if lacking in plot quality next to the parent programme – but they always left me feeling uncomfortable. For one, the exploration of adult themes through the lens of essentially childish story motifs never really convinced me. Nor, at the end of the day, could I buy into Cardiff as the centre of earth-shattering paranormal events. Perhaps it’s my limitation as a viewer, but if I’m going to accept a demon-spitting rift in time and space, I think it should be somewhere other than Wales.

Thankfully, as Torchwood’s third (mini) series, Children of Earth, kicks into blistering action, the location soon shifts to London for a grand world-encompassing plot to rival the epic scale of Doctor Who. This time around, the writers chose to produce five hour-long serialised episodes and it has clearly paid off. The format of the first two series, thirteen (largely) standalone episodes, was not always conducive to engagement with the heavier themes. By the time I’d started to buy each episode on its own merits and the ideas it was trying to sell me, it was over. The tightly integrated plot arc of Children of Earth, however, is much more effective. It convincingly builds character relationships, sympathy and emotion without losing sight of telling an entertaining story that will keep viewers on the edge of their seats (if not behind the sofa) for most of the five hours.

With creepy children speaking as one (reminiscent of Village of the Damned) warning of an impending threat, a powerful and largely unseen alien menace called The 456 with a suitably evil agenda, a government cover-up, a sinister ministerial plot headed by Peter Capaldi, who looks like he was born to play a civil servant, and a whole heap of morally grey choices mixed in with a bit of black humour, there is plenty to keep audiences engaged, even if the writers are hardly breaking new ground in the genre. Whilst the 456 do not actually appear until the third episode, their arrival is built up subtly and government assassination squads do a good job of filling in as early adversaries. Building convincing threat in science fiction, however, can be as tricky as creating a successful spin-off.

There seem to be three main schools on how to do this. On the one hand, there’s the Star Trek method. Fill an episode with ‘redshirts’ whose only purpose is to die so that when the all-powerful enemy arrives and the disruptors start flying, they’re there to take the fall whilst the main characters miraculously survive. On the other hand, there’s the Star Wars method, what’s known as the Stormtrooper Effect. All the villains are impossibly poor shots and the more enemies the hero is up against, the less likely he or she is to get hit. And then there’s Captain Jack Harkness, an immortal superhero who dies an unconscionable number of times, but always comes back to life. Indeed, in Children of Earth he dies so many times it is almost comical. No one reacts with surprise when he takes a bullet to the head, or has a bomb explode in his stomach, or gets buried in concrete, and lives to tell the tale five minutes later. One character even remarks in episode four, “a man who cannot die has nothing to fear.” Unfortunately, this rather diminishes the sense of fear we as viewers can feel for our hero, which detracts somewhat from the suspense.

Jack’s physical invulnerability, however, is compensated for by his emotional vulnerability. This is satisfactorily portrayed through the introduction of his daughter (Lucy Cohu) who appears older than her ageless father, and through his relationship with his teammates Gwen Cooper (Eve Myles) and in particular Ianto Jones (Gareth David-Lloyd). I have never been particularly impressed by the character of Ianto. Perhaps it is due to Russell T. Davies’s frustrating lack of creativity when it comes to naming his characters – there are far too many Joneses – but I have always found him to be a bit of a cardboard cut-out. His homosexual relationship with Jack, however, is well developed and emotionally believable without slipping into stereotype. And the occasional challenges to homophobic prejudices are conveyed with an appropriately subtle power without ever being overbearing so that the overall impression left is that the relationship between Jack and Ianto is as natural and everyday and caring as the relationship between Gwen and her husband (Kai Owen). This is not always an easy thing to do in fiction and many writers have failed to do what Russell T. Davies has done so well.

At the end of the day, though, fiction as a vehicle for ideas, no matter how powerful or important, is only as successful as the story it is telling. Does Children of Earth succeed? It’s no Doctor Who. But it is fun, funny, entertaining and engaging and I never felt bored or wished that I had chosen to spend my hour that day doing something else. In that regard, it does everything good television should. Whether Torchwood will survive for a fourth series, given the events of these episodes, remains to be seen. But after watching Children of Earth, I hope it does.

Great news from The Times, who report  an upsurge in support for gay liberation and equality. Yet the article’s headline - ”Church ‘Out of  Touch’  as public supports equal rights for homosexuals “- regurgitates an idiotic and irrelevant cliche.

On the question of sex before marriage, homosexuality and a host of other issues, we are constantly told that the church is ‘out of touch’ and needs to modernise.  As you might expect, I am an atheist who is absolutely committed to queer liberation. Yet i find such rhetoric about the church pointless and patronising. At a basic, empirical level the church is not ‘out of touch’. That is to say that the church is not unaware of the way in which public opinion has been transformed in the last 20 years.

To suggest that the church is ‘out of touch’ implies an expectation that the behaviour and the teachings of the church should  be congruent with the broad sweep of public opinion. Quite where such an idea comes from one can only wonder. Christian churches are organisations that exist to propogate what they consider to be the word of god and christ. Now of course this is open to interpretation – but it would seem fucking obvious that:

a) What christians interpret to be the word of christ will not necessarily cohere with what the mass of people happen to think in England in  June 2009

b) That any christian worth his pew would take the former more seriously than the latter when considering how the church should be organised and what it should propogate.

But this is not just about religion. Rather it is about our attitudes towards civil society and to dissent. I am sure I have been in countless organisations that could  be described as ”out of touch” with public opinion – in the sense of propagating ideas and values that are deeply at odds with prevailing patterns of thought. The ‘out of touch’ rhetoric deployed against the church implies that the unpopularity of an organisations ideas  is  in itself an adequate basis for attacking it. It suggests that we should attack dissent for the simple fact that it is dissent.

By all means  let us articulate our problems with the Churches, the Synagogues the Tories, the English democrats and whoever, but let us to do so on the basis of our ideas.  And let us not, for a second, imagine that our society would be improved if it was not full of organisations – political, religious or otherwise – that were deeply deeply ‘out of touch’. In the age of Blairite politics, and in an era in which the tastes of the urban majority are enforced by hunting bans, and smoking bans and BDSM bans,  we need more, not fewer, organisations that refuse to go with the flow.