Last week,
Stephen Fry got into a deal of bother by stating in an interview that he though
God, if he existed, was ‘an utter maniac’. Gay Byrne, the doyen of Irish
television interviewers, sat back and braced himself for the inevitable
thunderbolt, which didn’t come immediately but followed shortly afterwards in
the form of a threatened charge of blasphemy. Blasphemy, as an offence, is
right up there with Witchcraft when it comes to the likelihood of charges being
pressed so perhaps Mr Fry ‘s lawyers are not wasting too much time preparing
their defence at the moment. However, the outburst did at least rekindle the
flames of a philosophical argument that goes back to around 270BC and known as
Epicurus’ Riddle.
If God is all
powerful and all loving, why does he allow evil to exist in the world?
Now, I try not
to look for answers to ancient philosophical conundrums because, a) searching
for answers simply leads to ever more complex questions and, b) I can’t really
deal effectively with the options offered by household recycling centres
without getting a migraine. However, recently, Monday nights have seen me
channelling my inner philosopher as I stare at the chaos that is Channel 4’s ‘The
Island’ and ask, ‘If Bear Grylls is so intent on finding out if a group of
ordinary human beings can survive on a deserted beach for 6 weeks, why did he
give them Jane and Phil to deal with?’
Bear seems like a
nice guy. He appears intermittently throughout the programme hovering,
God-like, above the carnage ensuing below, and warns us of the perils his
subjects are about to endure. ‘When you’re at your lowest’ he says, ‘that’s when
to use your inner strength to visualise better times ahead.’ Meanwhile, on the
island, rain falls, stair-rod straight, onto and into the meagre shelter built
by the hapless castaways who stand around their dwindling fire and bemoan that
they have eaten the last of their miserable rations. Phil Coates, the
fifty-something cameraman from Yorkshire, has the idea that, if he monopolises
the camp fire, the warmth will last longer because there are fewer bodies to
heat. To this end, he selflessly warms his own toes whilst denying ex-police
officer Jane to do the same to her frozen fingers.
As day breaks
and the rain relents for a few hours, there is perhaps time to take stock of
the ransacked camp, rebuild shelter and rations and allocate a few tasks to the
fittest and most agile of the islanders. Not a chance. For Jane, the new day
offers her the chance for revenge and the opportunity to turn the rest of group
against Phil whose stock has been pretty low anyway since, in the name of
freedom and equality, he decided to parade his naked torso up and down the
beach in full view of the younger ladies. His assertion that the likes of Kaggy
and Jordan had spent most of the previous two episodes revealing pert breasts
and firm bottoms only served to reinforce the groups argument that Phil was
simply acting like a dirty old flasher and would he please ‘put it away’. Jane,
therefore, instigated a kangaroo court based upon Phil’s unwillingness, and
inability, to become a valuable member of a cohesive team and called for a vote
to decide his future participation. Most of the team were in agreement that
Phil was a pain the arse but, not all were convinced that a ‘big brother’ style
vote-off was exactly in the spirit of Bear’s Island. Thus, in a sort-of ‘referendum’,
the likes of which has rarely been seen or experienced in recent times anywhere
I can think of, the island population was asked to cast a vote of ‘Leave’ or ‘Remain’
to decide Phil’s phate. Would there be any lasting repercussions if, for
instance, the ‘Leave’ vote won but there had been no actual plan of how life on
the island would continue afterwards? Would this be the end of Phil’s phame and
phortune? Who would actually operate the camera in the event of a Phexit? And would
that word eventually catch on?
I shouldn’t have
worried, Phil was duly kicked out and life was, if anything, better without him.
Until, of
course, the next tropical storm.
Bear, still in
the role of supreme being, cautioned against frivolous afternoons in the sun
when there was work to be done. ‘The weather can change in an instant.’ He said,
and then puffed out his cheeks and blew upon the ocean. Waves reached tidal
proportions and clouds darkened as if Phil himself had coloured their mood.
This one was a
biggie. As they stood shin-high in dirty rain water the islanders basically
caved and called for the rescue team. Why did Bear make this happen? Why kill
what he had created? Was it part of a grand plan? Bear, answer me!
But Bear didn’t
answer. Because Bear had no answer. He hadn’t made it rain any more than he
could stop it raining. If he had built the islanders a shelter it would never
have leaked, but he left it to them to build a shelter that leaked in the hope
that they will build a better one next time. Bear could catch them a crocodile,
kill it and cook it if he wanted, but this wouldn’t teach them to feed
themselves. Bear couldn’t be their saviour, they needed to find their own.
By the time the
rescue boat arrived, some 48 hours later, a hero had emerged in the unlikely
shape of Aron. This mild-mannered paramedic from Surrey, looking for all the
world like a terrapin without his shell, single-handedly talked the group into
going through with the rest of the task and not abandoning their temporary
world in the middle of the Pacific. He did it, not for money, not for fame and
not for attention, he did it because he could not live with himself if he gave
up when he knew he could carry on. Jane, of course, moaned her Geordie ex-police
force moan, and briefly organised another uprising, but she only had fellow
fifty-something Karen on her side and, as she is about as much use as a stocking
full of wet sand, the coup didn’t last very long and they were soon back
begging for fish, which Aron duly supplied without requiring a show of hands.
Bear, meanwhile,
sat back on Mount Olympus with a satisfied grin on his face. He had made Aron
in his own image and the grand plan could continue.
