The present government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland has already ensured that the nation has the worst teeth in the western world, thanks to the pratfalls of the NHS, now, it seems, it is set on ruining our eyesight as well.

On September 1st, incandescent lightbulbs will be outlawed from the land, thanks to the combined diktat of Brussels, a useless Prime Minister, and a pair of Milibands.

Those of us who find the dim, poisonous, and expensive alternatives completely unsuitable, have been stockpiling the old ones for months. I now have getting on for two cratesful to serve the 19 interior light sockets in the house.

I may have over-stocked. In the past year I’ve replaced just three bulbs. This means my stockpile will last me for more than 100 years. It also means I will be leaving most of them to my heirs in my will.

I can picture the scene: a crowded town hall eagerly hearing the reading of the last will and testament of yours truly.

“My collection of esoteric first editions to …”

An impatient voice cries out from the back of the hall, “Get on with it. What about the lightbulbs!”

But there’s a deeper concern here, isn’t there? Freedom. We’re losing it so fast, it’s doubtful even now if much of it is left to us.

Not only do we have a near totalitarian government, but little apparent prospect of anything dramatically different after the General Election.

In these days when we’re spun a line on most issues, we desperately need to retain our ability to speak out freely and fearlessly on issues that matter to us. It’s not easy if you are even a minor public figure, such as a journalist.

The Labour ratpack-attacks on General Sir Richard Dannatt reveal the cowardice of the current political establishment and its creatures, like Kevan Jones and “Lord” Foulkes.

In trying to formulate a code of practice for journalists, and writers in general, we can start with previous attempts at defining human freedom of thought and expression.

One of my favourite statements of human liberty was made 2,500 years ago by Gotama Buddha.

In the Kalama Sutta — sometimes called “The Charter of Freedom” — the Buddha tells the persecuted Kalama people not to bother themselves with what others think; not to listen to “wise” men’s pronouncements, or necessarily accept the views of authority. They should prove the truth of each statement by reference to their own personal experience.

Even today, this is one of the most breathtaking expressions of personal freedom. It has, of course, been spun a lot, and explained away since. But let the statement speak for itself:

It is proper for you, Kalamas, to doubt, to be uncertain; uncertainty has arisen in you about what is doubtful.

Come, Kalamas. Do not go upon what has been acquired by repeated hearing; nor upon tradition; nor upon rumour; nor upon what is in a scripture; nor upon surmise; nor upon an axiom; nor upon specious reasoning; nor upon a bias towards a notion that has been pondered over; nor upon another’s seeming ability; nor upon the consideration ‘The monk is our teacher.’

Kalamas, when you yourselves know that these things are bad, blameable and lead to harm and ill, abandon them.”

A utilitarian light in our crassly ideological times.

Fight for it. No-one else will fight for you.

Syntagma Diary returns next Sunday 30 August

John Evans

Recent Related Stories
Saturday Ramble: David Cameron diminished
Saturday Ramble: My holiday reading list
Saturday Ramble: Twelve months to Renew Britain?
Saturday Ramble: Are you wise or just wize?