Maharajahs and air forces.

This unlikely title is the product of a weekend trip to London. Sunday was a visit to thew Hendon RAF Museum, and Monday to the Maharajah Exhibition in the V&A Museum. Both were excellent, so do not be put off by anything I say here. My issues are philosophical, about the way we view and value history.

The Maharajah Exhibition first. No expense has been spared, bringing a superb range of artifacts together and linking them with a sober commentary. It is a glittering display of wealth, power and opulence. My question is, why are wealth, power and opulence valued?

The Maharajahs came out of the collapse of the Mughal Empire, with monuments such as the Taj Mahal. Yet they were tyrants and despots. Aurangzeb for example executed Sikh gurus when expanding his empire with military might. Power is won by military action, and power is kept by military action. The exhibition celebrates the careers of these men of power and their repressive regimes. True some of them claimed a philanthropic bent, but only in ways which increased their status and stature. For example, in order to give starving subjects work and income, did the Maharajah build schools, universities and hospitals? or excourage new food production techniques, and new technology? Of course not, they built new palaces in the latest taste. The Maharajahs and their families were grotesque, and their values grotesque, and their excesses of money over sense are celebrated here. Also, the British East India Company pulled strings and were the real power behind these thrones. They can be seen in processions in their top hats and red livery, failing to sit on the floor comfortably. What were the British doing in India? Aside from the usual flannel heard, they were making money and exerting power. Queen Victoria made herself Empress of India to impress her German cousins, but never bothered to go to the investiture. Their presence there was always improper, but the old Maharajahs were not a better answer.

There is another side. The artifacts made by the craftsmen and women who laboured brilliantly to achieve results of fabulous beauty and zero utility. Elsewhere in the V&A is the William Morris gallery: he asserted that all things must at the same time be useful and beautiful. That throws out most of the Maharajah 'stuff' - certainly beautiful, but of no practical purpose but to declare power and status.

The RAF Museum has links to abuse of power, despots and suffering populace. A museum of war materials is always treading a tightrope. I remember visiting a small gallery in Tottenham Court Road in the 1980s celebrating Iraqi munitions. The poison gassings took place at about the same time. The rest the world knows. That RAF Museums (and there are several) celebrate the defeat of tyranny is a bonus. Yet we are on our own knife-edge: are we celebrating killing machines? The bombers such as the Lancaster, B17, Vulcan; the 4000 lb to 12000 bombs that flattened Dresden? Are we celebrating the kills? The bomb tallies on the planes, the aces with their 20, 40, 60 or 80 'victories' (or is it 'victims'?). Presenting a war museum is tricky. In my book, it needs to show that war is ghastly (Hendon manages this well). Also that killing should be no joy (the feelings of people involved is always ambivalent as they have lost friends and want revenge). Looking forward, there should be some thought to oranising the world without aggression, war, despotism, and above all without war crimes.

The Saigon Museum of War Crimes sets the agenda well, and I have written about this before. War causes things to be done on both sides that ought not to be done. The aggressor is in no way exonerated by the fact that it is war, for it is their war. Saigon remembers "the American War" and "the French War". Defenders at least have some moral defence, within the limits of humanity. Our war musuems remember the dead who perished in defence of freedom. And this is right. If the Nazis had won, we would now live in a world without ethnic minorities, without any disabled people, without people or colour, without Jews, and without human rights. Even leaving the morals and human rights to one side, this would be a diminished world, a depleted world - and actually a pointly world. Human civilizations do need a way of policing for good, and war museums need to keep a firm hold of this. The current inclusive practice of remembering the second world war alongside the former enemy is a good tradition, so both sides together can think of the enormity of what happened, and what might have happened.

Vietnam

But for an accident of geography, had I been born in the USA I would have been sent to Vietnam in 1966 to take part in such events as the Tet Offensive. The roads and villages have many war cemeteries to remember the north Vietnamese dead. The War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon) explicitly catalogues war crimes committed by the French and Americans on simple villagers, many of whom had to live underground in caves and tunnels, superbly engineered with hand tools, to escape B52 bomb strikes. Why? Because killing 'communists' provided political capital for politicians. The military strategy was to kill more Vietnamese militants than could be recruited. If ordered by your government to kill little brown villagers, it helps to demonise them - thus was born the term 'vietcong', Vietnamese communist, VC, 'Victor Charlie' or simply 'Charlie'. The communists benefited from local resistance fighters who were largely not communist. Most Vietnamese just wanted peace, freedom and independence, just as occupied nations wanted in world war 2, and as Britain would have fought for had we been invaded in 1940. How sad that this orgy of killing and destruction should be targeted at such charming people. The faces of corpses in the War Remants Museum were those visible on the streets, ordinary nice poeple. I was especially struct not by blood and gore but by a photograph of a mother trying to swim be young children across a river away from B52 bombs. Total desperation, just like any mother whose children were threatened. That still is haunting. Who photographed it? and why? One war photograher said "Stop, I want a photograph". The group were terrified women and children. Ten seconds later they were machine gunned, but the photographer "did not look back". War must always be obscene. Defensive wars against aggressors may always be needed, but need clear aims and planning to protect ordinary people. Today, Americans are welcome in Vietnam, and war veterans encouraged to meet up with their former enemy. Still under a communist government, the process of reconciliation has begun

After experiencing Hanoi traffic (and Ho Chi Minh City traffic is worse) I can understand chaos theory a little better. There are millions of motor bikes in Vietnam, which swirl around the road in all directions. Vehicle drivers weave and honk without regard to lanes, pushing, shoving. Traffic moves in from side roads without pause or hesitation. We crossed a main road on a zebra crossing; but nothing stops, and there is no pause in cars and especially motorbikes across four carriageways. Provided that you inch forward making no sudden movements, nothing hits you and you are across. Even a one-legged woman crossed safely. I saw no accidents, even little ones. People hustle and harry for advantage, but at the appropriate moment give way. If they did not do so, British style, there would have been immediate multiple pile-ups. All is good natured, no tempers raised, no road-rage, no retaliations. It was described to me as 'organised chaos', but it was really an equilibrium reached by actions and reactions which cancel each other out. It is purposeful, not random, unemotional, indeed beyond emotions. Emotions would distract the constant level of attentiveness. British drivers, with their blaring radios, mobile phones and shaking fists, would not last a minute in Hanoi. Where the traffic, as Cziksentmihali might say, 'flows'.

Vietnam is post-colonial. The French, overlords until world war 2, made the mistake of returning. They and their allies, especially the Americans, paid a high price for that, as did the local people. Today the houses and tombs of puppet monarchs are open both as examples of decadence and opulence (there is plenty of evidence of royal spoilt brats) and quality workmanship by artisans. There is a fierce independence of the local people, and justified sense of hurt. The Americans were spurred on by an ideology of hate against communists, personified by Senator McCarthy, but furthered by a succession of presidents who thought, falsely, that these were battles they could win.

The new colonists are tourists. Along the coast, beaches are being walled in to keep out locals. The hotels and resorts are likely to be owned by foreign investors, who cream off the top dollar. There are of course jobs for the local people, and markets for souvenirs. However there is a subservience to tourists that most do not deserve; it is important to please tourists if only to protect oneself about damaging complaints. Given the foul temper of the average tourist on a bad day, survival might hang on the whim of the rich. The hotels are the new palaces. Tourism might be a hope for economic prosperity, but not without stress. Tourists themselves need to consider trips to such places as building friendships. We too easily slip into complaining customer mode. We demand too much, too large a share of rare resources, such as water and power. As responsible tourists we should consume as little as possible, and make as much contribution to the local economy as possible. The local people as as dependent on tourists as they were on the French. They have craft skills, such as weaving, textiles and sculpture, but there is too much too similar, and training too conservative. They need wider markets; but also they need the encouragement to be creative. The children need to approach the 21st century differently. Yet there are hopeful youngsters, and I hope that their life choices soon broaden.