Sayeeda Warsi, secularism and the Pope

In complaining about "militant secularisation", Warsi is talking the Catholic leader's language.

In the absence of a formal portfolio, Sayeeda Warsi seems to have allotted herself a place in government as the minister for promoting faith. Today she's in Rome at the head of a grand ministerial delegation, ostensibly to celebrate 30 years of full diplomatic relations between Britain and the Holy See and to return the compliment of 2010's state visit by the Pope. She's taken the opportunity to reiterate her theme, not only delivering a major speech to Vatican officials later today but taking to the Daily Telegraphto call for religion to take a more prominent place in national life.

Warsi writes of her fear that "a militant secularisation is taking hold of our societies". When she complains that "signs of religion cannot be displayed or worn in government buildings", or criticises states that "won't fund faith schools" she's obviously not talking about Britain -- a country in which the state remains at least formally Anglican. And her "astonishment" that "those who wrote the European Constitution made no mention of God or Christianity" appears to betray a misunderstanding of what that ill-fated document actually was.

Still, Warsi's main preoccupation is with the role of faith in British politics and its alleged marginalisation at the hands of those semi-mythical bogeymen the militant secularists, whom she accuses of demonstrating "similar traits to totalitarian regimes." (The British Humanist Association's Andrew Copson described this as "surreal"). She promises the Pope her "absolute commitment to continue fighting for faith in today's society." Constitutional purists may wonder whether it's appropriate for a minister of the Crown, especially one who isn't a Catholic, to be making such commitments to the Pope. But she evidently sees in him a kindred spirit, recalling a meeting with him during his 2010 visit to Britain in which he apparently encouraged her to carry on beating the drum for faith in the public sphere. She even refers to him as "the Holy Father."

In complaining about "militant secularisation" Warsi is, of course, talking the Pope's language. Objection to the supposed marginalisation of Christianity in the West has been one of the idées fixes of Benedict XVI's papacy, along with liturgical neoconservatism. Last month he fortified American bishops ahead of their forthcoming battle with the Obama administration's health reforms, denouncing "powerful new cultural currents" that were "increasingly hostile to Christianity as such".

And if that's how he views the United States, comfortably the most religious developed nation in the Western world, it's not surprising that he has an even more jaundiced view of Europe. Late last year he lamented what he called the "crisis of faith" in the continent, which he contrasted with the "joyful passion" he had experienced during a visit to Africa. He even linked the financial crisis with an "ethical crisis," ultimately traceable to the loss of Europe's self-conscious Christian identity. So he will no doubt be pleased to find a Muslim politician arguing for "Europe to become more confident and more comfortable in its Christianity".

Baroness Warsi's comments, though, are far more than just a case of buttering up her hosts. She has long been engaged, if it is not inappropriate to use the word of a Muslim, on something of a crusade on the issue. The debate about the appropriate role of religion in public life is, of course, highly topical in the wake of the Bideford prayers judgement, a decision based on the strict interpretation of the 1972 Local Government Act which was nevertheless widely seen as yet more evidence of the "marginalisation" of faith. Warsi's personal feelings aside, the Coalition sees faith-based organisations as key to the success of its Big Society (i.e. small government) agenda. David Cameron has made similar noises himself, most notably in his speech in December celebrating the anniversary of the King James Bible.

But no amount of ministerial or even prime-ministerial exhortation can hide the fact that Britain, and most of Europe, has long ceased to be religiously devout. Even many who self-identify as Christian go to church rarely and read the Bible less, as new research carried out on behalf of the Richard Dawkins Foundation has confirmed. This lack of religious commitment may not be new, and in any case can scarcely be blamed on "aggressive secularists" pushing religion out of public life. What it does suggest is that the cultural heritage of Christianity is not the same thing as private religion. The point that both secularists and religious apologists miss is that there's no reason why it should be.

Warsi can describe the secularist project as "denying people the right to a religious identity" only because in recent years religion has increasingly been seen as a source of personal identity, or as a source of group identity within a multi-faith society. But in Europe, and certainly in Britain, state religion (or the lack of it) had more to do with citizenship and belonging than with individual belief.

The Anglican establishment long embodied the spirit of Lord Melbourne's dictum that "things are coming to a pretty pass when religion is allowed to invade private life". Queen Victoria's first prime minister would have found it very strange that a non-believing councillor should be offended by prayers being offered during council business, but even stranger that a government minister should feel the need to promote private religiosity as an instrument of public policy.

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Inside Big Ben: why the world’s most famous clock will soon lose its bong

Every now and then, even the most famous of clocks need a bit of care.

London is soon going to lose one of its most familiar sounds when the world-famous Big Ben falls silent for repairs. The “bonging” chimes that have marked the passing of time for Londoners since 1859 will fall silent for months beginning in 2017 as part of a three-year £29m conservation project.

Of course, “Big Ben” is the nickname of the Great Bell and the bell itself is not in bad shape – even though it does have a huge crack in it.

The bell weighs nearly 14 tonnes and it cracked in 1859 when it was first bonged with a hammer that was way too heavy.

The crack was never repaired. Instead the bell was rotated one eighth of a turn and a lighter (200kg) hammer was installed. The cracked bell has a characteristic sound which we have all grown to love.

Big Ben strikes. UK Parliament.

Instead, it is the Elizabeth Tower (1859) and the clock mechanism (1854), designed by Denison and Airy, that need attention.

Any building or machine needs regular maintenance – we paint our doors and windows when they need it and we repair or replace our cars quite routinely. It is convenient to choose a day when we’re out of the house to paint the doors, or when we don’t need the car to repair the brakes. But a clock just doesn’t stop – especially not a clock as iconic as the Great Clock at the Palace of Westminster.

Repairs to the tower are long overdue. There is corrosion damage to the cast iron roof and to the belfry structure which keeps the bells in place. There is water damage to the masonry and condensation problems will be addressed, too. There are plumbing and electrical works to be done for a lift to be installed in one of the ventilation shafts, toilet facilities and the fitting of low-energy lighting.

Marvel of engineering

The clock mechanism itself is remarkable. In its 162-year history it has only had one major breakdown. In 1976 the speed regulator for the chimes broke and the mechanism sped up to destruction. The resulting damage took months to repair.

The weights that drive the clock are, like the bells and hammers, unimaginably huge. The “drive train” that keeps the pendulum swinging and that turns the hands is driven by a weight of about 100kg. Two other weights that ring the bells are each over a tonne. If any of these weights falls out of control (as in the 1976 incident), they could do a lot of damage.

The pendulum suspension spring is especially critical because it holds up the huge pendulum bob which weighs 321kg. The swinging pendulum releases the “escapement” every two seconds which then turns the hands on the clock’s four faces. If you look very closely, you will see that the minute hand doesn’t move smoothly but it sits still most of the time, only moving on each tick by 1.5cm.

The pendulum swings back and forth 21,600 times a day. That’s nearly 8m times a year, bending the pendulum spring. Like any metal, it has the potential to suffer from fatigue. The pendulum needs to be lifted out of the clock so that the spring can be closely inspected.

The clock derives its remarkable accuracy in part from the temperature compensation which is built into the construction of the pendulum. This was yet another of John Harrison’s genius ideas (you probably know him from longitude fame). He came up with the solution of using metals of differing temperature expansion coefficient so that the pendulum doesn’t change in length as the temperature changes with the seasons.

In the Westminster clock, the pendulum shaft is made of concentric tubes of steel and zinc. A similar construction is described for the clock in Trinity College Cambridge and near perfect temperature compensation can be achieved. But zinc is a ductile metal and the tube deforms with time under the heavy load of the 321kg pendulum bob. This “creeping” will cause the temperature compensation to jam up and become less effective.

So stopping the clock will also be a good opportunity to dismantle the pendulum completely and to check that the zinc tube is sliding freely. This in itself is a few days' work.

What makes it tick

But the truly clever bit of this clock is the escapement. All clocks have one - it’s what makes the clock tick, quite literally. Denison developed his new gravity escapement especially for the Westminster clock. It decouples the driving force of the falling weight from the periodic force that maintains the motion of the pendulum. To this day, the best tower clocks in England use the gravity escapement leading to remarkable accuracy – better even than that of your quartz crystal wrist watch.

In Denison’s gravity escapement, the “tick” is the impact of the “legs” of the escapement colliding with hardened steel seats. Each collision causes microscopic damage which, accumulated over millions of collisions per year, causes wear and tear affecting the accuracy of the clock. It is impossible to inspect the escapement without stopping the clock. Part of the maintenance proposed during this stoppage is a thorough overhaul of the escapement and the other workings of the clock.

The Westminster clock is a remarkable icon for London and for England. For more than 150 years it has reminded us of each hour, tirelessly. That’s what I love about clocks – they seem to carry on without a fuss. But every now and then even the most famous of clocks need a bit of care. After this period of pampering, “Big Ben” ought to be set for another 100 or so years of trouble-free running.

The Conversation

Hugh Hunt is a Reader in Engineering Dynamics and Vibration at the University of Cambridge.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.