Editor’s introduction: ex umbris
Neil Croally
Summer 2020 Torn between the war against cliché and the rhetoric of praeteritio
In late March, purely for entertainment’s sake, I had recourse to the guilty pleasure of watching some episodes of Spooks . 1 Soon this turned into an obsessive need to watch the episodes of all ten series. Yes, that is nearly 100 hours of television – for someone who does not own a television. But what was the attraction? At first, I merely indulged a love for representations of the secret world, however inane or fantastic. Co-incidentally and (I suppose) remarkably, there were the Dulwich connections: not only of two of the starring actors, Rupert Penry-Jones and Raza Jaffrey, but also of the use of Sydenham Hill station and the nearby woods as the site of a secret assignation away from the febrile atmosphere of the ‘ grid ’ , and of Crystal Palace Sports Centre as the place where a jihadi cell met under cover of a weekly five-a-side knockabout. But moving through the series, I began to marvel at two apparently incompatible features of the show. The first was the wish, unsurprising in a series about the security services, to dive boldly into ethical dilemmas, more specifically into an examination of Utilitarianism. 2 One can only admire the direct, no-nonsense way in which centuries of philosophical reflection are cast aside, as the spies come down without fail in favour of the majoritarian position, whatever the cost to individuals and to themselves. Of the many examples of this unsubtle philosophizing, my favourite was in the episode when a dastardly plot to blow up the House of Commons with bomb-laden submersibles ordinarily used by Colombian drug cartels is foiled by MI- 5’s use of a weapon of last resort, namely, an electro -magnetic pulse that stops all electrical equipment from working. Contemplating the horror of what he has done (as always, this is from the balcony of Thames House, overlooking the flickering night-time city), the head of D-Section (Harry Pearce, played by Peter Firth) is consoled by Ruth Evershed, the analyst played by Nicola Walker. She reminds him that, while a small number of people on life-support machines and the like may have died – nine, it turns out, because St. Thomas’ emergency generator has fortun ately kicked in – , his actions have saved thousands. Pearce, battered, unhappy, resigned, fragile, asks: ‘ Is it always about the Maths, Ruth ?’ ‘ I think ’, she replies, ‘sometimes it is.’ 3 There you are: problem solved; no more thinking required. A reader may object: crude utilitarians are not necessarily bad people, and they may, after all, be right. Furthermore, TV drama has neither the time, inclination nor expertise to engage in high-level philosophical reflection. This is true. However, it is noticeable – easier, this, when 1 Spooks . BBC TV, 2002 – 2011: 10 series, 86 episodes. I note that, in the USA, the series was titled MI- 5. I don’t know the reason for this change but the word ‘spooks’ sets off Philip Roth’s representation of some of the USA’s problems with race in The Human Stain . 2 Please see Aiken Furlong’s piece in this volume (p. 87 – 114), which thoroughly analyses the ethical issues and which also, independently, refers to Spooks . 3 Series 9, episode 1. The exchange takes place near the end of the episode (53.28 – 53.58). Available on BBC IPlayer.
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