Sphinx

I spent a chunk of Saturday evening marshalling traffic; only four vehicles, granted, and mostly this involved standing around waiting for them to show up so I could tell them where to park (while inwardly steeling myself for the possibility of having to tell other people that they couldn’t park in the designated area), but it was still a great source of satisfaction to play even a tiny part in the complex enterprise that is a Somerset Illuminated Carnival. Not least because Carnival is very much a local thing; anyone can watch, of course, and there’s always a need for volunteers to stand around in hi-vis jackets, but actually having a role in the organisation (albeit one acquired by marriage, as my wife is actually on the committee) is a sign of having been here long enough to be counted as part of the community, despite being one of those rootless cosmopolitan academics…

Bridgwater Carnival, the original and biggest, traces its origins back to celebrations of the defeat of the Gunpowder Plot in a traditionally Protestant region (the Monmouth Rebellion and all that), though it’s no longer held consistently on 5th November. Our local carnival is much newer, and always focused on the night-time procession rather than beginning as an off-shoot of the traditional Guy Fawkes night bonfire – as a celebration of returning troops in 1919 and for about a decade after, ditto in the late 1940s, and then in honour of the Silver Jubilee in 1977 and ever since.

It isn’t as political as you might think, either from that history, or from the examples of Bonfire Night in Lewes or carnival in Köln. Overt political statements are very rare – and then ambiguous; I’m not at all sure how to take a tableau – a carnival cart where the participants stand completely still to present a scene, in contrast to the usual energetic gyrating to loud music – celebrating Votes For Women, including Emily Wilding Davison being trampled by the king’s horse…

Rather, the ‘political’ elements tend to be unthinking and rather stupid in a more or less innocent manner; conventional depictions of Native Americans, for example, or African warriors in ‘jungle’ scenes. This remains a very white and conservative part of the world (leaving aside the People’s Ecorepublic Of Frome and Notting Hill On Brue up the road); carnival involves appropriating whatever bits of other cultures offer the chance to dress up and dance to suitable music – very revealing of cultural stereotypes and prejudices, but not actually directed against anyone. In fact casual racism was less in evidence this year – rather more ghouls and zombies, Irish fishermen, and comical superheroes, which may or may not say something about the times. Meanwhile, the discourse on gender, normally exemplified by terrifying numbers of scantily-clad majorettes, is complicated by the presence of a troupe of male majorettes:

Arguably, the most dubious element of a Somerset illuminated carnival is the one that hides in plain sight: not any of the costumes or scenery or music, but the lights that illuminate them. The biggest carts must consume a terrifying amount of power, and pull enormous generators along behind them – and one might guess that a major source of pro-Brexit feeling in this region must be linked to EU bans on incandescent light-bulbs, given their traditional importance. Yes, it’s all about lighting up the dark autumn night and defying the death and decay of the old year with music and celebration – but in the broader scheme of things it’s also doing its bit to plunge us further into environmental crisis.

There is hope – which is to say that there are plenty of things I can watch with a completely clear conscience and without any need to wrestle uncomfortable thoughts to the back of the mind. Alongside the big carts there are plenty of ‘walkers’, groups or individuals in costume, and in recent years these have demonstrated the potential of LEDs, not just to allow people to illuminate themselves but to enable the development of some really spectacular outfits (which unfortunately don’t photograph very well).

The impetus for change is, I suspect, less “I want to save the planet but still dress up” and more “wow, I can look like a fully decorated Christmas tree or giant glowing butterfly or futuristic space warrior or cityscape by night”. How far the big carts will be willing to change seems less certain, given the amount already invested in their existing kit, and it would be interesting to know whether this is a matter of discussion within the higher level of the regional organisations (alongside highly esoteric issues of judging regulations). For the time being this remains a festival of communal consumption, of energy as well as of the time which so many people devote to it. But at least it is communal…