Relinquishing rights in the ‘war on terror’

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With the threat of ‘terrorism’ currently at an all time high, the need to prevent against any further attacks seems fairly obvious. Though, to what extent do we go to ensure our safety? This seems a bit more of a murky question, or rather answer to it. I would like to think though that in no way, does ripping up the HRA 1998 (UK) enhance my chances of being safe. I’ve read too many dystopian novels to understand what direction that all leads in. After all isn’t that the best safety currently on the table to us as humans to be entitled to basic rights?

Is it not enough that our privacy is being invaded more than ever before, being constantly surveilled in a multitude of ways in every day life, from your phone tracking your movement, to your social media profiles information and algorithmic bots that know more about you than you do, to your household electronics listening in on you, Big Brother is casting it’s eye on you at all times.

It has been a persistent pipe dream of the Conservative government to replace the HRA 1998 with a ‘British Bill of rights‘, it was recently included by David Cameron in the Conservative manifesto of 2015. Liz truss the current justice secretary then continued to promote and push the idea, until resistance to it forced a hold up for a few more years at the beginning of this year. Theresa May has clearly made her views known, which coincidently align with that of the party, in June this year she said the HRA needs ripping up in the fight against ‘terrorism’.

For me personally this is a no brainier. We are lucky we live in a country like we do, that we even have human rights that are actually upheld unlike some countries, to waver those rights would be ludicrous and verging on suicidal. Not only would it be a very meek step backwards, but it would be a dangerous step forwards in the direction of totalitarianism.

 

 

 

 

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Those litte ‘white lies’

I used to find it easy to lie. I’d always been good at it, ever since the little lies I would tell my teachers when I was naughty as a child. Though they were nothing more than inadvertent juvenile lies that never really did anyone any harm, or so I thought. It wasnt until I got much older that I realised the importance of the truth, and the destructiveness of a lie.

As I reached my teens, it was a common trend to lie to your parents, about where you were going or where you had been or what you were doing and so on. I kept a lie up of me not smoking to my parents for over three years as a teenager, even though my mum would iron my clothes and the steam would bring the smell of weed rising up into her nostrils; I used to just say it was my friends smoking around me. This sort of lie done nobody else any harm but me.

I was still young. I was and still am learning about life. I didn’t understand how all these lies from youth would carry through, snowballing into bigger and bigger lies. I didn’t foresee the consequences that these litte ‘white lies’ would bring, or that they would mutate and become something much worse, that they would become almost instinctual.

When I was eighteen I met the love of my life. We split after seven years. It was my fault we split, the lies broke us apart, distanced us. They were me now. I couldn’t go a single week without telling a lie to her, even if it only began by little ‘white lies’ wanting some time away from her, saying I had to work late or was busy, when I weren’t. This is how the bond between people starts to become fraught and eventually severed. I was out almost every weekend, and ended up in random party’s a lot with my friends, usually with a random girl, who would assume I was single, probably because I would tell them I was; keeping up with whatever lies had already been told by friends. Our relationship had become soured by these little ‘white lies’. My lies carried me to them places, and had made me become a person I never envisioned becoming, I never wanted to become.

As you could probably guess, I cheated on my ex. A year or so after we initially broke up, we got back together, but I couldn’t find it in myself to continue any further with the lies I had already deceived her with, she was too innocent for that. When I told her she reacted as any person would, upset, angry, hurt. I didn’t want to intentionally hurt her by telling her, I was just so sick of myself and all the years of lying to her. Now that I was old enough to see the pattern emerging, and fully comprehend my actions, I didn’t want to continue sleeping on the same bed of lies, but most of all she deserved the truth.