Dear Readers,
Good afternoon once again and welcome to the seventieth edition of Off The Fence – the platinum-plated weekly folly that keeps us busy between issues of our sumptuous quarterly. On that note, Issue 12 is being polished and prettified as we speak, in the steady hands of our art director and his troupe of crafty illustrators. Mark your calendars for the first week of July, and stand by for updates on the stars and stories of our best issue yet.
Until then, we’ve got a few more things to keep you suitably diverted this Monday. On the card this week, we have some interesting details on the government’s contentious Rwanda policy, a tribute to Kate Bush and a deepish-dive into the origins and the reaches of the fascistic Latinate slogan du jour.
But first up, because we’re generous types, we’re running a summer competition. The first person to subscribe today will receive a lifetime’s subscription to the magazine. The second person will get a free Zest of the Rest, and the third person will get two free copies of Issue 11. That’s a pretty good deal! Make haste to the link here.
And now to business.
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Grifto, Griftas, Griftat
Latin terms and phrases are not as used as they once were; with a few curious exceptions. One phrase in particular has enjoyed an active resurgence in online fringe communities, with global search results for it steadily growing – doubling or tripling each year in some cases – over the past decade or so. That phrase is ‘Deus Vult’.
It was first popularised in the Gesta Francorum, probably the earliest Western account of the First Crusade, which was called in 1095. In it, the anonymous author claims that the rag-tag band of knights, priests and peasants who made up the crusading forces united around one battle cry: ‘Deus lo volt’, a corruption of the purer Latin ‘Deus Vult’, but with the same basic meaning: ‘God wills it’.
As these unlikely warriors rampaged across Europe and Asia – leaving attacks on Muslims, Jews and, more often than not, their fellow Christians, in their wake – ‘Deus Vult’ became their rallying cry. But, the crusades came and went and the Latin phrase largely dropped out of popular usage. Puritans tried to resurrect it, as did an American admiral with a serious commitment to the Monroe Doctrine, but on the whole, it became the preserve of historians.
That was until the year 2012, when the strategy game Crusader Kings II was released. In it, players guide a ruling dynasty through the medieval period, making various choices along the way – including having the choice to join a crusade or a jihad. If a crusade is called, a dialogue box appears which bears the words ‘Deus Vult’. The phrase was back.
The game developed a dedicated fanbase, with aficionados making their own videos and memes around aspects of gameplay: one of the most popular of which centred around use of the phrase – you guessed it – ‘Deus Vult’.
At some point, this world of roleplay-adjacent geekery became mixed up with the world of online far-right politics. Some date this heady fusion to the release of specific YouTube videos of montage clips, either in 2013 or 2015; others to threads on either Reddit or 4chan. Either way, it became a far-right calling card. Soon enough, it shifted from online to offline: it was graffitied on mosques and synagogues; it appeared on banners at far-right marches from Poland to Charlottesville; Steve Bannon referenced it with regard to his desire for a war on Islam.
During this period, as Gamergate (harbinger of the forever war we are still caught in) raged, a young video game journalist called Calvin Robinson was working as the executive editor of the website, GodisaGeek – you can see him interviewing one of the programmers for Mortal Kombat X in this clip here.
In truth, the era of the Trump Presidency probably represented a high water mark in the offline life of ‘Deus Vult’ (if we’re excluding the First Crusade). It crept back online, now often used as a symbol – a sign slipped into text – to indicate allegiance to or sympathy for far-right causes. It is mostly found on rarely-visited message boards and Twitter threads in some of the grimmer corners of the internet.
As ever in the world of ‘Deus Vult’ though, there are exceptions to this rule. Nowadays, the Church of England rarely uses Latin, but one of the places you will still hear ‘the will of God’ proclaimed, is in a C of E ordination service. On the subject of which, many readers of this newsletter will now be aware that Calvin Robinson has morphed from a video game reviewer to a full-time political agitator.
Robinson recently found fame by claiming he had been cancelled by the Church of England. He had been due to be ordained a priest, but then he was suddenly told there was no longer a place for him, and that the Bishop of Fulham did not want to go ahead with the ceremony. It was not, the Church claimed, the will of God. Whether the reason for this was his self-professedly ‘unwoke’ views, or for refusing to give up his professional broadcasting commitments in order to focus on the ministry, depends on who you choose to talk to.
Much of those professional commitments are at GB News, whose website – on the subject of strange corners of the internet – contains biographies for each of its presenters. The final words of Calvin Robinson’s? ‘Deus Vult’, of course!
No Delays at Gatwick
In recent weeks, political energies on both sides of the spectrum have been channeled towards perhaps the single most contentious policy of the Johnson administration: the forced deportation of asylum seekers by the Home Office to detention centres in Rwanda. It’s a noxious policy on its own terms, magnified further still by the government’s championing of Rwandan despot, Paul Kagame – although it should be noted that Kagame has enjoyed support across the aisles, counting Tony Blair as a close friend and strategic advisor over the last two decades.
Opprobrium has rightly been focused on Rwanda’s appalling human rights record, with question marks persisting over whether the African nation qualifies as a ‘safe haven’ in the terms defined by the Geneva Convention. But, as Michela Wrong notes in Do Not Disturb (preempted here by her piece in the Guardian in 2019), Rwanda’s political suppressions are not limited to their own borders. President Kagame has, so the evidence points, directed his security service to dispatch of his political enemies in other sovereign territories, most notably his former head of intelligence, Patrick Karegeya, who was executed in a Johannesburg hotel room on New Year’s Eve 2013.
It would be outrageous for Priti Patel to propose – smirking, naturally – that Saudi Arabia, with its noted disregard of international laws and human rights standards, would qualify as a ‘safe haven’ for those seeking protection on British shores. And yet, for Rwanda, and for red meat to be thrown to a frothing party base, the Prime Minister and Home Secretary can forgive the occasional extrajudicial assassination.
Begging for Tones
You may have already read Jack Beaumont’s deep dive into the world of trainspotting, as it was first featured in this newsletter a few weeks back, but it’s now live and direct on the website right here. If you’ve ever wondered what Francis Bourgeois’s fellow enthusiasts make of him, now you need wonder no more.
Maggie Thatcher’s Latex Mask
Back in the 1980s, Jade Angeles Fitton’s father helped design the prototypes for a very famous TV show – and got poisoned in the process. It’s a lovely piece of writing, a homespun trip down memory lane, and a celebration of the quite literally toxic origins of Spitting Image. And on that note, what are the funniest moments from that show? Please send through your favourite clips (double points for ones of Thatcher and Reagan).
Heavenly Creatures
Earlier this year, Fiona Mozley, the Booker Prize-nominated novelist, offered to survey the state of Sapphic cinema for us. It was a suggestion we gladly accepted, and the resulting feature is now online, available here – it’s a drily funny and witty piece, and one that deserves a wide audience. Do give it a read.
Eleven Kids in America
Regular readers of The Fence, or indeed of books, may have noticed the sterling success of our features editor Séamas O’Reilly’s memoir, Did Ye Hear Mammy Died?, over the last year: a bestseller, an award-winner, and a smash hit by any metric. Not content with merely captivating readers across the British Isles, our world-bestriding colleague has now gone Stateside, already snatching glowing reviews from NPR and the New York Times within days of the book’s US release. Whether you’re reading this in Plymouth, Portadown or Punxsutawney, you can – and should – buy a copy or three, and you will quickly discover what all the fuss is about.
In Case You Missed It
The indomitable Samira Shackle filed yet another brilliant long read for the Guardian on a hijacked oil tanker just off the coast of the Isle of Wight.
We will not spoil the surprise for you but the latest Patrick Radden Keefe story is unmissable – tell us when you reach the twist.
The Oracle of Lanai: Margaret Sutherlin travels to Hawaii, where the billionaire Larry Ellison has upended life in paradise.
Done the crime, but don’t fancy doing all of the time? Jack Hitt profiles the prison consultants helping to make life easier for white-collar criminals.
Jason Alexander, who was married to Britney Spears for 55 hours, crashed her wedding last week. It did not end well.
And Finally
Have you seen the charts recently? No, us neither, but Kate Bush’s 1985 single, Running Up That Hill, is apparently back in a big way. Netflix’s marketing arm has let us all know, through social media astroturfing and pliant newspaper coverage, that the song is ‘surging up the charts again’ for showing up on season 4 of Stranger Things. We’re not quite sure why, over the previous three seasons, we didn’t see a similar revival of Vangelis or Tangerine Dream from their cameos, but hey – kudos to the Bardess of Bexleyheath. If you want to hear a more eloquent and passionate celebration of the song, however, might we steer you towards this fantastic clip of Big Boi from OutKast counting the ways he adores this particular track in an interview with Pitchfork from a few years ago.
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That’s a wrap for this edition – we hope that this short salvo will prove to be the last newsletter you tuck into all week, because the heatwave is coming, and who reads newsletters in a heatwave? As ever, should you want to chat to any of the editorial team about anything above, below, or side-to-side, reply to this email and we’ll all get a ping. Have a lovely week, wear sunscreen, stay hydrated, and we’ll catch you for cooler climes next time around.
All the best,
TF
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