Do not go gentle in to that good night..

Have you ever wondered who you are? For instance, is your national identity of great importance to you? For many people their nationality is incredibly important. There is a t-shirt which is quite popular in the Principality which announces “Every day I wake up in the morning and thank God I’m Welsh”. It is not a sentiment I share if I’m honest despite the fact that I was indeed born in Denbigh. Famously, Ronald Reagan once visited an Old Folks’ Home in Texas and approached a quiet old lady sitting in the corner. “Do you know who I am?”, he asked her. “No, but if you go to reception they’ll tell you”, came the immortal reply. My nationality is not really that important to me and, if pressed when filling out personal details, I invariably plump for British although I’m not altogether sure quite what that means either. Occasionally though, my inner Welshness is provoked. It happened today. I was saddened beyond words to learn of the passing of Cliff Morgan. I don’t intend to try and add to the superlatives which have already been used to describe him. He belonged to a dying breed born with nothing except an appreciation of life and an infectious joy which was imparted on to all around them. To be born in 1930 in the Rhondda to a coal miner would not automatically speak of great life opportunity. They may have lacked the wealth which we today take for granted at every given turn, but they had a real sense of community which is now so sadly lacking. They were grateful for the important things in life – the simple things. In those days, people played sport to escape the stark reality of their harsh existence. Sport was the common denominator where entire communities converged to immerse themselves in the absolute joy of taking part. Put simply, sport in those days was where the whole town came together as one. Professionals were a million years in the future. This was the Golden Age of the amateur where the top sports stars of the day played the game for the sheer love and might have earned a fraction more than the men watching them in the terraces. Aside from the fact Cliff was one of the very finest players to don the famous no. 10 jersey, he was far more than that. People of my generation and older will remember with enormous fondness his Saturday morning sports programme on radio 4. He had a gift which I don’t see any more. He had that softly spoken delivery which just drew you in. He used to say that when he was delivering a radio programme, he was delivering it to one person – you. He certainly made it seem like that. A very rare gift. He also exuded warmth and came over as your best friend who you’d only just met ten minutes earlier. He was not boastful or judgemental. There was nothing nasty or crude about him. As a commentator, he was an absolute joy. His famous delivery of “that try” when Gareth Edwards finished off the move by the Barbarians was notable for the fact that Cliff was clearly enjoying it more than any of the listeners or spectators. He had the sort of dignity to which I aspire. There are certain Welsh people whose manner in life set them apart from those around them. Alongside Cliff were the likes of Harry Secombe and Wynford Vaughan Thomas. Cliff like many at the time was against the cancellation of rugby and cricket tours to South Africa during the era of apartheid. It was not that he agreed with apartheid. He just knew the true value of sport as a means to breaking down the barriers of society. Sport to people like Cliff was vitally important as a bond between men whatever their creed and colour. A few beers and a sing song after the match would put the world to rights and the world would be a better place. As our politicians debate whether they ought to be immersing themselves in the Syrian conflict, it looks as though common sense will prevail and lessons will be learned. We are not the British Empire and haven’t been for an awfully long time. As they debate amongst themselves as to whether there is a legal justification for going to war, I can tell them the answer. If we got involved every time a foreign dictator exacted abuse upon his own people, the whole country would be in the army. There just comes a time when we have to stand down and let the UN do the job for which they were originally formed. The Falkland War was fought over Sovereignty. A war with Syria would be taking the side of one group over another in a country over which we have no influence. Even if chemical weapons have been used, we now have war crimes tribunals in which the perpetrators are ultimately brought to task and held to account. It is sometimes hard to stand by and witness events such as these but it is not our business to take it upon ourselves to be the world policeman. If any of our politicians had just a slither of the dignity of Cliff Morgan, there would be no need for a debate. In defence of the Coalition though, I must just say this. When Blair got us in to Iraq in 2003, history now shows that he had absolutely no evidence to do so. He hood-winked the people and they are now understandably suspicious of all government. At least Cameron has had the decency to tell it like it is and admit that there is no conclusive evidence as to who used the chemical weapons. As long as that is the case, there can be no argument for war. This at least is a small step back on the road to democracy where truth is used to consult the MPs who are elected to represent the people. In addition, this marks a new beginning in which we no longer ask “how high”? when Uncle Sam says “Jump”! We do have the capacity to think for ourselves and it is high time we showed both America and the rest of the world.