How The Light Gets In 2013

The festival of philosophy and music returns to Hay.

This year, beginning on 23 May, the annual How The Light Gets In festival returns to Hay-on-Wye, once again providing audiences with the chance to engage with life's big questions: Why are we here? What is love? Do we need religion? Do we undervalue the imagination?

All these ideas and many more will be pondered and pursued over the course of the festival, interwoven with music and comedy acts. The New Statesman’s own Jonathan Derbyshire will be appearing, chairing debates on topics such as "Is Religion Dangerous?" and "Errors, Lies and Adventure", an exploration of the need to lie in politics.

Here are five highlights from this year's festival.

Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly

10pm Fri 24 May, International Hall

The born-and-bred Essex boy Sam Duckworth has always been outspoken about his political views. Whether he’s crooning about the everyday rigmarole of British life or humming his anti-BNP ballad Glass Houses, you can guarantee he’ll have you nodding along to his unique acoustic drawl.

More Than Equal

(featuring George Galloway MP, Minette Marrin and Peter Tatchell)

2:30pm Mon 27 May, Globe Hall

With liberal attitudes towards ethnic minorities at an all-time high, are identity politics irrelevant? Or are etnic minorities simply assimilating into society, when they should be demanding more from Britain? Bradford MP George Galloway, Sunday Times Columnist Minette Marrin and activist Peter Tatchell discuss what the future holds for the smaller social groups in our society.

The Sexualisation of Society

(featuring Diane Abbot MP)

3pm Mon 27 May, Ring

As questions loom over the legality of internet pornography and stories about women suffering eating disorders have become a mainstay of the tabloids, Diane Abbot takes aim at the hyper-sexualised world in which we live and its effects on the young.

At World’s Edge

(featuring A S Byatt, Terry Eagleton and Terry Pratchett)

4pm Sunday 2 June, International Tent

Fantasy tales are often seen as amusing pastimes, whimsical adventures to be forgotten when the pages are shut. But is there more significance to these stories? Could they be a key element in the perception of our own world? To discuss these matters, novelists Terry Pratchett and A S Byatt join literary theorist Terry Eagleton.

The End of the University?

(featuring Martin Bean, Leonidas Donskis, Maurice Fraser)

12pm Sunday 2 June, International Tent

The internet has changed everything; from shutting down video rental stores to flipping the music industry on its head, no-one can deny its reach. But with the ever-growing number of learning resources available, free of charge, how can modern universities compete and, eventually, will they be outmoded? Open University Vice-Chancellor Martin Bean, LSE political theorist Maurice Fraser and Lithuanian politician Leonidas Donskis think about what the future holds.

How The Light Gets In runs from Thursday 23 May to Sunday 2 June.

For full details of events and tickets, click here.

Second-hand books for sale in Hay-on-Wye (photograph: Getty Images)
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The conflict in Yemen is a Civil War by numbers

Amid the battles, a generation starves.

Ten thousand dead – a conservative estimate at best. Three million internally displaced. Twenty million in need of aid. Two hundred thousand besieged for over a year. Thirty-four ballistic missiles fired into Saudi Arabia. More than 140 mourners killed in a double-tap strike on a funeral. These are just some of the numerical subscripts of the war in Yemen.

The British government would probably prefer to draw attention to the money being spent on aid in Yemen – £37m extra, according to figures released by the Department for International Development in September – rather than the £3.3bn worth of arms that the UK licensed for sale to Saudi Arabia in the first year of the kingdom’s bombing campaign against one of the poorest nations in the Middle East.

Yet, on the ground, the numbers are meaningless. What they do not show is how the conflict is tearing Yemeni society apart. Nor do they account for the deaths from disease and starvation caused by the hindering of food imports and medical supplies – siege tactics used by both sides – and for the appropriation of aid for financial gain.

Since the war began in March 2015 I have travelled more than 2,500 miles across Yemen, criss-crossing the front lines in and out of territories controlled by Houthi rebels, or by their opponents, the Saudi-backed resistance forces, or through vast stretches of land held by al-Qaeda. On those journeys, what struck me most was the deepening resentment expressed by so many people towards their fellow Yemenis.

The object of that loathing can change in the space of a few hundred metres. The soundtrack to this hatred emanates from smartphones resting on rusting oil drums, protruding from the breast pockets of military fatigues, or lying on chairs under makeshift awnings where flags denote the beginning of the dead ground of no-man’s-land. The rabble-rousing propaganda songs preach to the watchful gunmen about a feeble and irreligious enemy backed by foreign powers. Down the road, an almost identical scene awaits, only the flag is different and the song, though echoing the same sentiment, chants of an opponent altogether different from the one decried barely out of earshot in the dust behind you.

“We hate them. They hate us. We kill each other. Who wins?” mused a fellow passenger on one of my trips as he pressed green leaves of the mildly narcotic khat plant into his mouth.

Mohammed was a friend of a friend who helped to smuggle me – dressed in the all-black, face-covering garb of a Yemeni woman – across front lines into the besieged enclave of Taiz. “We lose everything,” he said. “They win. They always win.” He gesticulated as he spoke of these invisible yet omnipresent powers: Yemen’s political elite and the foreign states entangled in his country’s conflict.

This promotion of hatred, creating what are likely to be irreversible divisions, is necessary for the war’s belligerents in order to incite tens of thousands to fight. It is essential to perpetuate the cycle of revenge unleashed by the territorial advances in 2014 and 2015 by Houthi rebels and the forces of their patron, the former president Ali Abdullah Saleh. This demand for retribution is matched by those who are now seeking vengeance for the lives lost in a UK-supported, Saudi-led aerial bombing campaign.

More than 25 years after the two states of North and South Yemen united, the gulf between them has never been wider. The political south, now controlled by forces aligned with the Saudi-led coalition, is logistically as well as politically severed from the north-western territories under the command of the Houthi rebels and Saleh loyalists. Caught in the middle is the city of Taiz, which is steadily being reduced to rubble after a year-long siege imposed by the Houthi-Saleh forces.

Revenge nourishes the violence, but it cannot feed those who are dying from malnutrition. Blowing in the sandy wind on roadsides up and down the country are tattered tents that hundreds of thousands of displaced families now call home. Others have fled from the cities and towns affected by the conflict to remote but safer village areas. There, food and medical care are scarce.

The acute child malnutrition reported in urban hospitals remains largely hidden in these isolated villages, far from tarmac roads, beyond the reach of international aid agencies. On my road trips across Yemen, a journey that would normally take 45 minutes on asphalt could take five hours on tracks across scrubland and rock, climbing mountainsides and descending into valleys where bridges stand useless, snapped in half by air strikes.

Among the other statistics are the missing millions needed by the state – the country’s largest employer. Workers haven’t been paid in months, amid fears of an economic collapse. This is apparently a deliberate tactic of fiscal strangulation by the Saudi-backed Yemeni government-in-exile. The recent relocation of the central bank from the Houthi-controlled capital, Sana’a, to the southern city of Aden is so far proving symbolic, given that the institution remains devoid of funds. The workforce on both sides of the conflict has taken to the streets to protest against salaries being overdue.

Following the deaths of more than 140 people in Saudi-led air strikes on a funeral hall on 8 October, Saleh and the Houthi leader, Abdulmalik al-Houthi, called for yet more revenge. Within hours, ballistic missiles were fired from within Houthi territory, reaching up to 350 miles into Saudi Arabia.

Meanwhile, in the Red Sea, Houthi missile attacks on US warships resulted in retaliation, sucking the US further into the mire. Hours later, Iran announced its intention to deploy naval vessels in the area.

Vengeance continues to drive the violence in Yemen, which is being drawn ever closer to proxy conflicts being fought elsewhere in the Middle East. Yet the impact on Yemeni society and the consequences for the population’s health for generations to come are unlikely to appear to the outside world, not even as annotated numbers in the brief glimpses we get of this war. 

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood