Charles Moore
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Last week, I went to the British Museum to hear a lecture in memory of Edward Said, the Palestinian thinker, by Professor Rashid Khalidi, a Palestinian/American historian. It concerned a dispute about an Israeli plan to build the irritatingly named Simon Wiesenthal Centre for Human Dignity on part of the Muslim cemetery in Jerusalem where some of Professor Khalidi’s family are buried. I have no knowledge of the rights and wrongs of the controversy. The question of moving human remains to build more is a delicate problem in all old cities. Scarcely a week goes by in Jerusalem without zealous Orthodox Jews demonstrating against the Israeli authorities for desecrating old Jewish tombs. But what was so depressing about the lecture was that it merely assumed that the Israelis were in the wrong, and moaned self-righteously on for 45 minutes. Khalidi’s lecture had no intellectual or academic merit. The distinguished director of the British Museum, Neil MacGregor, said in his introduction that the museum had been, from its foundation, a centre of public controversy. If so, will we have a Simon Wiesenthal Lecture there by a Jew about how Muslims are selfishly trying to prevent the advancement of human dignity by claiming special rights for old bones? I hope not: such a lecture in such a setting would be disreputable. But so was this one.
The Localism Bill, currently before the Lords, gives people the right to designate something a ‘community asset’. For example, a private field which the owner allows villagers to use as a cricket pitch could become so designated. Once the local authority approves the designation, there is no appeal. This gives the ‘community’ (what crimes are committed in that name!) the right to bid for the land whenever it is sold or transferred. Suppose, then, that the owner wished to give the field to his son or daughter. This would trigger the right to bid, and no transfer could take place until the bid had been exercised. The idea, of course, is to protect ‘community assets’. But the effect is the opposite. The measure means that owners will withdraw community use of their land while they still can.
This column has complained before about the Catholic bishops’ decision to move the celebration of the Ascension from a Thursday to the nearest Sunday. Ascension Day was the moment of Christ’s Great Commission to preach the Gospel to every creature — what would nowadays be called the global launch of the brand. It takes place 40 days after Easter for a reason, which is that it balances the 40 days of Lent which run up to it. Moving it shows an indifference to the drama of that commission, and of the Ascension itself. This year, Ascension Day and Derby Day fell in the same week. The Derby has suffered from the same carelessness. A few years back, organisers felt that it would attract more people if it moved from its traditional Wednesday to a Saturday. The actual effect, concealed this year by interest in the Queen’s horse, has been to make the Derby just another big race half-swamped by Saturday’s football. Where is the sense of the sacred?
At the Derby, Prince Harry wore an elegant top hat, tall and made of silk. It is an odd thing when there is so much money in the world that it is now impossible to buy such a hat new. I discovered this years ago, because none of my family’s elderly top hats fitted me (my head being enormous), and so I needed a new one. I learnt that the only machine which stretched the silk in the right way was to be found in France, and the business had just closed down. There are no new silk hats. A second-hand one my size costs £2,000. The ones for sale in Lock etc are all squat and covered with some inferior felt. There is a demand here waiting to be satisfied.
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