Column
Culture
4 min read

Depreciating human life: a year-end market report

The cold currency of trading hostages repels George Pitcher, who explores the casual acceptance that some lives are biddable against lives of intrinsically higher value.

George is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and an Anglican priest.

Three men huddle around a laptop and talk animatedly.
Israel's Prime Minister monitors the recent hostage exhchange.
Prime Minister's Office, Israeli Government.

There is something peculiarly horrific about the barter of Israeli hostages held in Gaza by Hamas for Palestinian prisoners in Israel. And it isn’t only the unimaginable suffering these innocent civilians have to endure somewhere on an unknown scale between life and death. 

It’s also that their lives are reduced to their commodity value. Hostages are assets to be traded in the market for peace, not human beings. It’s difficult to write this, but it’s almost as if three dead hostages, including a 10-month-old baby, said to have been killed in an Israeli airstrike, have lost their asset value. These ones are no good – they don’t work anymore.  

Negotiating the release of hostages for peace terms is as old as the Hebron Hills. An Egyptian pharaoh once released his enslaved Israelites to Moses in return for the lifting of the plagues being inflicted on his people. But there is something of the neo-liberal free market in the way that post-modern conflict resolution uses human life as a currency of exchange. 

Ryan Gilfeather wrote excellently here how this material valuation offends against the human dignity in which the divine invests. The imago dei that humanity bears, if you like, is not to be reduced to a bounty, a financial liability or an asset value. 

As a consequence, human life is tradeable. Yes, it has value, but its share price can fall as well as rise.

I’d want to take that a step further, to ask how that depreciation has come about with such ready acceptance and to note a couple of instances where the mentality of the trade in human existence has become a natural process of marketing.  

The attitude, I think, has its roots in the Enlightenment of the 17th and 18th centuries. Don’t get me wrong: This is no censure of progressivism. Universal literacy, healthcare, scientific endeavour and the birth and growth of democracy are all very good ideas indeed. But the Enlightenment also brought the capitalist mindset to almost every area of human existence. Our lives, in many contexts, became actuarial.   

This is not my idea. The great, perhaps the greatest, Christian mind of the 20th century, C.S. Lewis, railed against how Fascism and genocide were the bastard offspring of our common-law marriage to progressive thinking, in that traditional values of human existence were now only there to be debunked.  

I am indebted to Lewis’s biographer, A.N. Wilson, for this. In Lewis’s book, The Abolition of Man, he writes of “The belief that we can invent ‘ideologies’ at pleasure, and the consequent treatment of mankind as mere specimens… begins to affect our very language.’ 

Lewis was no white-knuckled reactionary, but he did recognise that the values and virtues of ancient religious thought were binned at humanity’s peril. We had begun to understand the price of human life, rather the the value of it. 

This is not to suggest for a moment that the ancient world was a nirvana (or even a Narnia). The Garden of Eden was lost at the beginning of time, not at the Enlightenment. Brutality, slavery and cruelty are part of our post-lapsarian world. 

It’s just that religious virtue used to be a bulwark against such things. As a consequence, human life is tradeable. Yes, it has value, but its share price can fall as well as rise. By the 21st century, we can look behind us to see how that has played out. Allow me to elucidate a couple of examples of how casual is our acceptance that some lives are biddable against lives of intrinsically higher value.  

The first is the almost clownishly implemented government policy proposal to redeploy migrants to the UK to Rwanda. Almost clownishly, because it would be funny if it didn’t involve a trade in human misery, the idea that desperate people endangering their lives and those of their families in small boats can be made someone else’s problem to sort out, simply by looking away. These people are worthless, you see, because they are not us and only we belong here (whoever “we” may be). The idea is that we pay Rwanda per capita to take them, rather as we might send our plastic refuse to China for landfill. 

A second example of merchandising human life I would cite are the repeated attempts to have assisted suicide, or voluntary euthanasia, legalised in the UK, rather than enhancing palliative end-of-life care. These proposals depend entirely on the state legislature endorsing that some human lives aren’t worth living and are disposable.  

At base, it’s the same principle as the Rwanda policy, other than we’d be killing them, or assisting them to kill themselves, rather than disposing of them in a central African waste-bin. 

These are the “anythings” that humans believe in when they stop recognising the sanctity of human life. The value equation used for Gazan hostages is on the same continuum as the human trafficker and the politician who tries to stop him, or the calculation of the cost to the state and their family of a terminally ill patient offered an alternative way out. 

It’s just that these equations have become invisible to the naked eye. We don’t see them anymore. But, I’d suggest, for Christ’s sake we’d better start looking. 

Column
Culture
Football
Sport
4 min read

FA Cup magic: the cliches that belie football’s real focus

Selfish interests are a symptom of a wider social tendency.
in a dressing room, celebrating footballer crowd together for a photograph.
Plymouth's players celebrate.
Plymouth Argyle FC

I learned about a concept called ‘thought-terminating clichés’ recently. They’re throw-away phrases often used in cults and cult-like social phenomena as a way of shutting down debate. So, for example, if you’re chatting with, say, an anti-vaxxer, they might say “you need to go and do your research” as way to shut down the debate.  

Once you notice this, you see it everywhere. And there was one ‘thought-terminating cliché’ I heard a lot this weekend. “The magic of the cup.” 

Can I be honest with you? I don’t like the FA Cup. This weekend saw the latest round of cup fixtures and all it did was remind me why. Okay yes, I’m still a bit miffed about Plymouth knocking Liverpool out. But that’s not it, I promise.  

Every single time these weekends come around it inevitably ends up with lots of tedious discussion about ‘The magic of the cup’ as people get starry-eyed and nostalgic about ‘giant-killings’ and the tragic loss of FA Cup replays. 

For example, in the last round of cup fixtures, National League team Tamworth took Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur to extra time. They ultimately lost 3-0 but, in previous years, they would have ‘earned’ a reply at the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium and, as a result would have gained more money in gate receipts than the club normally generates in a whole year.  

For some, it was proof that scrapping FA Cup replays was damaging grassroots and lower league football. Nobody seemed to care about the fact that Tamworth only scraped through the previous round on penalties, precisely because there were no replays in the cup this year. In other words, they were only playing Spurs because the replays were scraped in the first place.  

Discussions like this can be – should be – a good opportunity for the footballing community to have honest conversations about what the sport ought to look like. Who is football for? What is the point of football? How should the sport’s resources be distributed across the football pyramid? 

But of course, as is so often the case in contemporary society, we are simply unable to have an open, transparent, and well-intentioned conversation about these fundamental issues. In particular, one discussion caught my eye over the weekend.  

Debate around VAR shows how deeply ingrained tribalism is within football: I would rather my team won unjustly rather than lost fairly. 

A lot has been said about VAR since its introduction to the premier league in 2019. Many have lamented its impact. No longer is it possible to simply celebrate a goal. Now there’s always the VAR, always threatening to take away that last minute winner for some small infraction that occurred 5 minutes before the goal was actually scored. All VAR has done, so say the critics, is give greater power to the incompetent referees and their mates.  

And the damage of VAR was only proved this weekend in the FA Cup, as this was the last round of fixtures not to have VAR before its introduction in the fifth round.  

Fans were able to celebrate goals without worrying that the Grinch With A Whistle was going to take it away. No longer would we have to sit twiddling our thumbs while three men in Stockley Park used a magnifying glass and a series of made-up lines to work out if someone’s little toe was offside. Let joy be unconfined! 

And yet, there were loads of officiating errors over the weekend. Blackburn had a goal ruled out against Wolves for offside; Dominic Hyam looked on. Brighton beat Chelsea; Tariq Lamptey looked to have handled the ball. Manchester United scored a dramatic last-minute winner against Leicester City; scorer Harry Maguire almost certainly looked offside. There were multiple other incidents we could reference; you get the point.  

But this is all just a small price to pay; it’s The Magic of the Cup after all. And this is where football needs to decide what it’s fundamentally all about. Is it a sport, a competition? Or is it entertainment? 

It can, of course, be both – and most of the time it is. But if we decide that football is to remain fundamentally a sport and not completely concede the point that it is now entirely a TV product, then VAR has to be here to stay. My minor inconvenience when I prematurely celebrate a disallowed goal, or sit in a freezing stadium not knowing what VAR is doing, all this is the price we pay for ensuring competitive rigour.  

Debate around VAR shows how deeply ingrained tribalism is within football: I would rather my team won unjustly rather than lost fairly. As in so many aspects of life, loyalty to ‘my team’ blinds me from what is best for those around me. Football’s inability to ‘solve’ the perennial problem of the FA Cup, what it’s fundamentally for, and how VAR is best implemented into it, is just a symptom of a wider social tendency towards self-interest over equity and justice.  

Sometimes, winning as a collective involves losing as an individual. Sometimes the best thing for football is seeing that last-minute winner rightly ruled off, embarrassing though it may be. The Magic of the Cup indeed.

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