Very Local Government

In 1066 William the Conqueror beat the local yobs, took over England and imposed centralized government on his new realm; he was a strong character; he gave orders and his underlings obeyed them, unless they wanted a visit from William’s chiropractor, who was very good at stretching necks.

From London to York by train takes two hours; once you leave the outskirts of London, you realise how clever it was to build a railway line across 280 kilometres of lake.

In 1066 it took a tad longer; no train, but no doubt it rained just as much, so you had to find a road through the water.

The Romans built excellent roads all over England but they left in 410 in a huff because they had been accused of rigging premier football matches.

Thus began the Dark Ages; and the first thing that happened was that the roads went to pot; i.e. pot holes appeared. You can just imagine what state they were in when William moved in six hundred and fifty years later.

Looking at our potholes, I don’t think we will need that long before the roads disappear entirely.

So when William wanted ten cases of Marston’s Premium Ale – excellent stuff, I can tell you – from York, he ordered a monk to write the message.

Monks had nothing much to do except pray to God, prey on nuns and write letters in squiggly writing with the first letter of each sentence in very large capitals and painted in pretty colours; it must have taken weeks to place a beer order.

Even Telkom is faster than that, but at the rate their ADSL service is slowing down, I reckon we should be looking for monks.

The brave knight entrusted with getting the order to the Archbishop of York took the road to York, which lead through large forests providing shade for herds of red deer and footpads. B&Bs were scarce so it was self-catering all the way; essential equipment included bows, arrows, a portable braai, crockery, cutlery, and stuff to make a salad.

That’s just too much for one man to carry. Apart from that, he needed company; nasty people lurked in the bush or rode about on stolen horses, looking to lift your purse. England then was a lot like South Africa now. Except they had William the Conqueror, we have Jacob the Bonqueror.

In the end a whole party of hunters, fishermen, soldiers, hangers on and the messenger made the trip; it was a good ten days before the beer order was handed to the Arch.

In those days the church owned about a third of England and it generally did its own thing, often to the discomfort of the King. Desmond Tutu would have been in his element.

As the King was far away the Archbishop had a fairly free hand in governing York; as the locals were a mixture of unruly Saxons and unrulier Vikings, very much like today, he had his own law enforcement thugs; and other people to cut the grass, cart away the poo buckets, collect taxes and so on.

In 1066, local government was a necessity because central government couldn’t communicate directly and efficiently with the country’s citizens.

Nine hundred and fifty years later, central government rules the First World. Communication is instant, transport is efficient, civil servants civil, and taxpayers get their money’s worth. Mostly.

In the Third World, central government often exists in name only; for a glimpse of Europe in the Dark Ages, try the Democratic Republic of Congo; just as dangerous but a lot hotter.

The DRC is a patchwork of warlords all doing their own thing – good for the arms trade, but not much else. Wherever government exists, it is certainly not centralised; I doubt if most of the citizens even know the name of the DRC president.

Some centralised governments have collapsed; Haiti provides a good example of such a “failed state”.

Dare I suggest that South Africa is slowly slipping backwards down this unhappy path?

In spite of the woes that beset the country– suffice to say that the fish rots from the head down –the country runs reasonably effectively despite the best efforts of the ruling party and the “civil” service.

Big cities are generally better run than rural dorps; in rural areas it is not uncommon for citizens to pay their rates and taxes into trust funds, which are then used to fund tasks such as grading of roads.

In our Village, the basic services – water, electricity and rubbish removal – still operate efficiently; other services taken for granted in First World countries are present in name only in cities like Port Elizabeth.

When a service which for time out of mind has been provided by the local authority – for example, the cutting of grass on public open spaces – is curtailed or stops completely, nature begins to reassert its hold and soon the neighbourhood looks a tad untidy; grass and bushes and trees grow unchecked; wildlife blossoms; the first tourists are mosquitoes, followed by rats, then snakes, then cattle and their tick buddies, and very soon the aforementioned footpads; our tennis courts are a good example of what happens when basic services fail, in spite of our rates and taxes being paid on time.

And yet this may have unintended and even beneficial consequences.

When we are faced with a situation to which the authorities cannot or will not respond, we either allow the situation to deteriorate to the point where it becomes a serious danger to people and property, or we take action ourselves.

And as time goes by, that is exactly what is happening in Redhouse, because it has to, even if the actions taken may violate the official rules and regulations.

Sometimes you just have to “bend” the law a little to make life work; because if you wait for the law to work for you, you will surely run out of breath!