Sara O'Rourke

Food For Thought



Posted: Wednesday, January 13, 2010

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My response to writing an essay on the responses to dearth and famine in Early Modern Britain
was one enormous yawn. I don't think I am alone when I say that the economics of agrarian society is not really the cherry on top of my learning cake. However, upon closer inspection - that is, amidst the fragments of parish parchments and the confusing use of 'y' in the place of 'i' in every other word in the old English syntax, I actually came across some interesting findings.
 
I felt myself naturally predisposed to incline myself to argue to the advantage of the gracious, kindred and concerned early modern government; to glorify the work of the magistrates and flour the vagabonds of the records with generous negativities. Yes, there are plentiful morcels of evidence to demonstrate almsgiving and neighbourly hospitality across the counties; stories of great Sirs and Lords whom opened their doors in the middle of the biting winter to scores of the starving, and in so doing embodied that Christian light of giving.
 
For some reason or another - most likely the fact I find it quite difficult to devote myself entirely to concentrating when it's snowing outside - my immediate thoughts upon reading this switched to something I had read a couple of years ago about Eminem donating somewhere between $2,000 to $20,000 to some charity or another. The details are irrelevant, I assure - for whether it was $2,000 or ten times that amount, it was still petty change for the globally successful rapper. Of course, this does not take away from how unbelievably far that sum of money would have been stretched by the charity, for they know how to make the most out of what they get, but I remember vividly that I disagreed with this portrayal of the singer as an extremely generous man, all the while he was probably sat in some million-dollar sportscar, probably not even driving but being driven, to go and buy something sparkly.
 
I promise that this admittedly bizarre anecdote relates to my point. It all comes down to a question of controlling the lower orders, in early modern Britain, and what the authorities, composed of the elite with money spare with which to wipe their mouths at breakfast, lunch and dinner, were effectively doing was giving just enough so that the majority would not die but not so much that they could begin to rise up to any other level on the infamous social ladder.
 
Of course, crucial and pivotal to everything in early modern British society was the theory first proposed in Ancient Greece by the likes of our old friend, Plato - the Great Chain of Being. It had dual meaning, too, for not only did it instate social structure and heirarchy, but also natural, biological differentiation. Disruption of such order and stratification would be harmful to the balance of harmony, to tranquility and even motion in the realm, and thus by restricting their monetary generosity, the 'able' were in fact able to remain socially and fiscally exclusive. There had to be a poor population, for the provision of prayers, for feeding the rich, and working that beautifully unpredictable land.
 
Translate this little revelation to the modern day situation and ask yourselves the following: Would you happily give up all those commodities our 3-5% (of the global population) enjoy to share it with the rest of the world, the much less fortunate? Because is it really that hard an exercise to carry out, emotional and habitual attachments aside, to sell our 'stuff' and physically, everyone of us, go and help out? I know that I, myself, have at least ten dresses that no longer fit body or the current trends and thus will never get used. What food for thought!
 
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