I am not a serious runner. I don’t compete. I follow no diets or training regime. I have owned the same trainers for four and a half years. I have no idea what I’m doing to my knees or if my pace is average. I don’t have a regular route. I don’t listen to music and I don’t know how people keep the headphones in their ears when they run.

I think running makes me feel free.

These are tumultuous times in Finnish politics, but looking around Helsinki, bathed in the deep orange hues of a late April sun, things seem oddly calm.  Life continues as always, despite the shock results of the True Finns in last week’s elections. Admittedly, conversations have been dwelling on little else in the past days, but initial surprise – and, at least amongst the people I know, initial sadness – has been followed by talk of the need for reasoned discussion and emphasis on the almost innate drive for consensus in the nation’s governance.

Firstly, this need for reason.  While some, me included, were quick to paint a very black picture of what the election results might mean, many have urged restraint and proper consideration of what the True Finns as a party actually say they stand for: what’s more, friends have pointed to the diversity of opinion amongst the newly-elected True Finn parliamentarians.  Of course, the party can rightly be characterised as populist and xenophobic, but this isn’t the simple-minded bunch of frothing, euro-sceptic racists my more melodramatic thoughts might lead me to believe.  Yes, there are some rather more extremist figures amongst them, but ignoring the broadness of the persut church is foolish.  I’ve been struck by how humble and sensible many of those vehemently opposed to the True Finns have been in doggedly remaining steadfast to their ideals as democrats: the issue has not been to discredit the True Finns or their voters, but to recognise their decency, their points of view, Soini’s political nous, and above all, the fears that underpin the party’s support.

Running counter to this fear, is the talk of consensus: for us non-Finns, and particularly those with a British sensibility schooled in the yah-boo of a tribal political culture, it’s hard to understand fully what this notion of consensus might actually mean.  While Europe waits with baited breath to see what shape the Finnish government will take, and what it might mean for our Lusitanian cousins first and foremost, many here seem to be talking about how the need to shape a workable government and determine a stable governmental program will override any urges towards grandstanding and brinkmanship.  The thinking goes that the extremist views of the True Finns, even the pre-electoral emphasis on immigration, will be tempered – even foregone completely – by political pragmatism in the common interest.  I.e. things might not be so bad.  (Although, this could easily be read as selling-out in the pursuit of power.)  Still, a little cynicism does also seem to permeate this point of view, as it appears to hint that irrespective of this apparently unusual electoral result, Finnish politics will remain as unchanged as ever, with the big parties (now including the True Finns) failing to make any major changes and business continuing as usual.  Here, we might care to remember that the True Finns support state-heavy social policies not too unlike the Social Democrats.

Whatever happens in the coming days, and indeed, during the life of this parliament, one can’t help but be reassured by the sensible, truly democratic approach many are taking towards this situation.  This is not to say that people aren’t ready to stand up and oppose the drift away from solidarity, equality, and openness that they feel should characterise their country and its politics: arguments against the True Finns, their rhetoric, and their influence upon the political climate are many and frequently voiced.  In addition, criticism of a neutered media culture, unable to address fully the false assumptions underpinning discussions about immigration, the EU, and the actual (and manifold) problems facing Finland, is loud.  But importantly, I’m seeing how deep the understanding of respect runs in the political culture here: a die-hard opponent to the True Finns even praised the commitment and dedication of True Finn party volunteers precisely for their efforts to participate and engage in the democratic process.

Perhaps it is from these tendencies that we should be drawing wider lessons on how to deal with the xenophobia and nationalism growing across Europe, rather than resorting to the default positions of derision and fear which have sadly underpinned reactions thusfar.  This absolutely relies on engaging in genuine debate, free of distortions and informed by fact, and without demonising the Other; and happily, despite everything else, I can say I’ve been witnessing that here.

the act of political violence is creative.  it stands as a demonstration of fear and confusion before an uncertain world.  it manifests helplessness, breathing life into illusion.

in violence we see confidence slipping from the powerful; and control replaced with despair.  but to meet violence with yet more, we betray ourselves. it is surrender.

the violent act is at once defiant and insecure.  to hold a mirror to it, we expose it for what it is.  to hold a mirror to it, we expose it to its own fragility – and wide-eyed, we stand before its temporality and emptiness.  it is creation without substance: an effort to build upon a void of ignorance.

here we realise that truth remains the only tool to disarm; the only foundation on which to rebuild.  in truth we find each other as we are.  only through truth can we begin to lay bare the fiction of fear.

Deceit and conceit: are these really the only things that matter in politics?

Is politics really just about building a career?  And one built on nothing but pride and a certainty in one’s worldview that never entertains the possibility of humility or reflection?  Is politics nothing but letting self-interest drive one forward, and letting intellectual dishonesty cloud judgement and muddy relationships; treading on others in the name of the downtrodden, and allowing complacency to blind genuine progressive thought?

I hope not.

I always believed politics was about values, about heart, about the big questions in life.  I always thought it was something that allowed us to be more than ourselves, and understand our part in something bigger.  I always thought it was the way to find the tools to make society function in a fairer, more just manner.  I always thought it was the way to find the best in ourselves, and find the Other in ourselves, as a society, as a community, as an organisation.

Finding new answers to age-old problems requires new and renewed political action, built on a new political language: allowing the power-hungry to recognise that admitting when you’re wrong, and admitting when someone else is right, doesn’t equate to weakness – it takes strength.  Politics shouldn’t be about desperately chasing the next opportunity for self-congratulation, only to miss the multitude of extended hands offering alternative solutions.

If you want to play games, kick a football.

If you want your ego massaged, get a therapist.

If you want to make a difference, start with yourself.

Trudging through the melting snow of a grey Monday morning, I couldn’t escape the feeling that it’s all a bit métro-boulot-dodo right now: actually struggling to keep my balance while getting from A to B therefore seemed a fairly fitting metaphor.  The late winter inevitably brings with it hopes and dreams, but also a little spot of pre-spring accounting: perhaps a result of the resurgence of cold, hard light.  To be sure, it’s a welcome return, but the unforgiving glare that it can shed on things can be an impatient master.

So we notice the dank soil emerging from under the ice, and the strangely naked trees; the building site that is regaining its former charmless lustre.  And I’m left wondering what happened to all those wonderfully simple plans that were hatched in the fizzy haze of early January.  Time for action…

“when tempted to fight fire with fire, remember the professionals use water.”

as spotted amidst the usual nutjob comments posted on guardian.co.uk….

The city’s been something of a silhouette for the past two months or so.  Snow has silently conquered the familiar, and like a persistent houseguest, charmed it’s way into the everyday, while never letting you forget the inconvenience, nor the transience.

The daily ritual of struggling into layers of clothing, shrinking tightly under an unforgiving sky, and getting used to the particular taste of scarf, can’t take away from my wonder at seeing the world like this.  There’s a graceful power in snow: it appeals to our sense of childhood, and humbles an adult world enslaved to speed.

But the rhythm of the industry that springs to life here, when the snow sets in, only serves to feed my admiration of Finnish pragmatism: the army of trucks busy transporting snow to God knows where; the concentrated faces sprinkling pavements with gravel; the Sisyphus-like workforce that shovel snow from the city’s rooftops.  For the latter, I reserve particular respect.

They say this is the coldest winter in Southern Finland for thirty years.  As the forecasts predict rising temperatures within the week, I can’t help but feel a genuine sense of sadness at the prospect of this new-found friend taking leave of the city.

The more I learn about the Press Complaints Commission, the more I wonder about the charade that is the British media.  Presumably, this was actually written with a straight face…

The adjudication last week, on the complaint lodged by the civil partner of Stephen Gately, against a Jan Moir column published in the Daily Mail, was understandably greeted with dismay by many.  Forgive me if I dare to question the editorial nous of this bunch, given that they were collectively unable to ascertain even the slightest ‘prejudicial or pejorative reference to an individual’s…sexual orientation’ in Ms Moir’s article.

Perhaps we should then in fact be impressed by the artful use of the English language employed by dear Jan…or for that matter, the authors of the almost achingly earnest PCC adjudication.

if I have light, I have life;
and if I continue to seek truth,
may it find me worthy.

The Secretary General of Egypt’s Supreme Council of Antiquities, Zahi Hawass, is again pushing for the British Museum to return the Rosetta Stone to Egypt – after a new request for a temporary loan was met with the customary suspicion of the museum’s trustees.

Unsurprisingly, the likelihood of such a prospect seems slight in the short term, with the Chief Executive of the UK Museums, Libraries and Archives Council, Roy Clare, insisting that the Stone should stay in London.  According to Clare, the Rosetta Stone is not just an icon of Egyptian identity, but “it is an icon globally. What happens to an object is it inherits additional culture through its acquisition.”  He adds that through scholarship, it “becomes important in relation to other cultural iconography.”

While not wanting to explore the legality of the situation, Clare’s point seems an interesting one.  Certainly, the cultural importance of an object such as the Rosetta Stone is tied not only to its origins, but also to the history of its ‘discovery’.  In several respects, the significance and understanding of an object, and in turn, its ‘value’, are heavily dependent upon the hands through which it passes.  Nevertheless, if we accept this, the argument follows that the object can indeed, continue to ‘inherit culture’.  That cultural legacy need not end in WC1.

No less dynamic is the relational importance of the object.  Scholarship doesn’t cease and new objects/facts can be discovered; the recreation of a historical moment is a piecemeal process, and to allow for the greatest possible comprehension and accuracy, this process can’t be tied to the singular location of a given artifact.  Of course, gathering as many artifacts as possible in one place does facilitate scholastic inquiry, but that knowledge doesn’t simply disappear should one or several objects be moved – in fact, one could argue that potential understanding is limited by confining an object to a permanent home, particularly one in exile.  Thus for example, we have exhibitions by Picasso, with works gathered from across the world through loans and acquisitions, touring the globe, to the delight of millions of potential viewers: the audience for such works is broadened, with the works exhibited in new and often unique contexts.  Nothing is to say that exhibitions of  historical/archaeological interest can’t do the same, and they often do.

Modern technology, and methods of academic cooperation also mean that research isn’t bound by geography: that the Mona Lisa hangs in the Louvre doesn’t stop an art historian in San Fransisco from studying the work of da Vinci, though she or he might plan a trip or two to Paris.  Yet while the pieces accumulated in the Louvre might provide contextual understanding of the painting, they do not serve to deliver everything the scholar needs to understand the work.

However, objects such as the Rosetta Stone have a particular historical significance to their place of origin, arguably unlike the works of Picasso or da Vinci, so a distinction should be made between these two types of cultural artefacts.

But why am I stating such an obvious point?  Well, mainly because the argument that the British Museum is putting forward is linked to the relational value of an object such as the Rosetta Stone to the other acquisitions of the British Museum.  The emphasis is not on the scholarly convenience and advantages of holding contemporaneous artifacts in one place, but rather, on the potential enjoyment and understanding that a visitor to the British Museum could receive through viewing the Rosetta Stone alongside other objects of historical importance from around the world.  This is, of course, a considerable boon to the average museum-goer; and seeing the wide variety of objects held by the British Museum is indeed a joy.  But is that a reasonable moral defence to prevent such objects from being viewed in their place of origin – and to prevent the resulting experience from bearing its own intellectual fruits?

Sadly, Mr Clare’s comments belie rather ugly and outdated notions of the perceived superiority of Western scholarship and institutions.  The obduracy of the British Museum sadly serves in many ways to hinder the popular enjoyment and learning that interaction with an object such as the Rosetta Stone can spawn, contrary to what the trustees may say.  Obviously, parting with the Stone would be a blow to the Museum, and the fear clearly exists that floodgates would be prised open: but this is precisely why a sensible and secure loan agreement should be sought.

The Rosetta Stone is thought to have been a notice of a tax amnesty, and represents a sophisticated form of cross-cultural communication: sadly, it seems a little more of the latter will be required for this chapter in the history of the Stone to be concluded.