Monday, May 12, 2025
Blog Page 1611

Vince Cable talks to Cherwell

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Vince Cable seems happily immune to the seemingly endless string of scandals and corruption found in UK politics. Although the Liberal Democrats have suffered recent blows to their political reputation, support for Cable remains firm, especially by those on the Left. I interviewed him just after party conference season, a time when all parties are looking to the future. This is especially true of the Liberal Democrats who are at a relative high point in their history, albeit at a very insecure one.

The background of the Coalition has presented major challenges for the party, as students who voted Liberal Democrat are painfully aware. When I ask Cable about the tuition fees pledge he is keen to emphasise his own distance from the party, referencing his book, Free Radical, and saying that for ten years he had been, “frankly rather sceptical” about the party policy, but did echo it. He also by points out a usually neglected fact: all three main parties have U-turned on the same issue. The Tories opposed tuition fees very strongly in 2004-2005, while labour did it twice: first by campaigning against tuition fees before introducing them and resisting a raise in fees before increasing them.

Despite the validity of his point, this begins to sound like some compulsory manoeuvre in a driving test: to be correctly executed by any party having a go in the driving seat of power. Cable emphasises how of all the parties the Liberal Democrats alone have apologised on the issue (and what a cracking tune it has made) and rightly comments that “all parties should now have learned to tread with very great care on this issue, and not promise more than they can sensibly deliver.”

Cable considers the party to be composed of people who are, “quite resilient and tough” in terms of political will. The party was hit strongly by a backlash from anti-Conservative supporters who believed that the coalition was not a natural political alliance. From these early days, Cable observes that the position of the party has stabilised two years on, as he sees Liberal Democrats possessing a kind of fighting spirit. “Many of them have come off as councillors and fought for various seats in difficult conditions in the past. We’ve been in a much worse position in times before this, so I think the mood was quite positive in the sense that we can turn it round.”

Cable outlines how core beliefs have remained intact despite the failure to deliver on key issues like constitutional reform. “That wasn’t for want of trying. We have tried and were blocked by the Conservatives, and Labour were not being very helpful. It remains a core belief.” He points to the fight for fairer taxes and lifting the threshold for lower income workers as major, successful campaigns. A strong Liberal Democrat influence has been felt in civil liberties, on which there have taken numerous measures to grant liberties, from stopping ID cards and DNA databases to clearing the criminal records of people who were convicted for being gay, which were left intact for far too long.

Cable implies that the Tories are obstructing green policies, on which I ask him for more detail. “Obstructing may be a strong word there. They are beginning to seem to sound as if they don’t really believe in them anymore. We want to make strong commitments to a low carbon economy and they are very reluctant to support the necessary measures. Energy and Environment is one area where we are in disagreement with the Tories.”

That Cable felt comfortable to express this outright disagreement with the Tories was in contrast with the ambivalence of his speech at the party conference. There, speaking on the economy he had a less clear line: both fully in agreement with George Osborne, “making no apology” for the deficit-reduction plan, and also echoing the Shadow Chancellor on the need for a demand stimulus. Cable reasons that “both those things are true”, and indeed, deficit reduction would have happened under Labour. “The only real difference has been that we’ve argued to deal with the structural deficit over six years, this is our current estimate, and the Labour Party have been talking about seven years. So it’s not a big difference of philosophy.”

The conversation turns to the economic crisis. My suggestion that the effectiveness of George Osborne’s plan is questionable provokes Cable to emphasise how multifaceted the problem is. Osborne’s plan has so far seen the economy into near stagnation, and as he put it, “deep crisis”, but “there are some very deep problems. The government can’t just press a button and solve this issue.” He stresses the severe damage to the British economy: the massive financial crisis in the banking system with banks not working properly still, dealing with a massive deficit whilst deficit reduction is deflationary, individuals in high levels of debt have a reluctance to spend, and crisis in the Eurozone. “All these factors make life difficult. It’s not that we don’t want to see economic recovery, of course we do.”

Three years ago Cable wrote that “at some point, producers and consumers or both will recover their nerve and start to spend and invest” in his book examining the financial crisis, The Storm. Now, “There is still a crisis of confidence. The government is trying to address it partly by encouraging this continued, very aggressive, monetary policy, which is interest rates, quantitative easing. I’d quite like to see some variation of QE to make it target assets more. We are also trying to use government guarantees to get investment in infrastructure and housing, and that would stimulate demand. We are obviously thinking about what the government should do more on capital investment.” He mentions the green investment bank, overseen by his department, as a signal for future progress. “We won that one. That’s three billion of government money, and hopefully fifteen billion of private money. We’re just starting this state business bank, which will get more money into small companies.”

If different initiatives are being tried to get finance flowing, I wonder about the slow nature of the process. “Things were done at the beginning to provide things like government guarantees for bank lending,” Cable says, “and we tried to twist the banks’ arms and get them lending more. We’ve done a whole lot of things but we’re fighting a very powerful current here.” I asked how big banks that were bailed out by tax-payers, especially the Royal Bank of Scotland or RBS, could have done so little, especially since the balance sheet of RBS in particular was originally one and a half times the size of the British economy. “Since then it’s shrunk by about a half. They’re trying to get the bank into a position where it’s viable and they’ve sorted out all bad loans and got rid of them, selling them off. It’s not really performing the functions it is for, which is taking people’s deposits and giving them to business. The mechanism’s broken down. There is an ongoing argument as to whether they should be more actively engaged in business lending: I have made it very clear that is what I think the emphasis should be.”

Cable seeks to reform the banking sector in a dramatic way. “Legislation is actually before parliament at the moment, but it’s certainly being taken through in the next couple of years, and it’s called ring-fencing. The casinos are separated from the ordinary banking functions within the bank. The banking sector didn’t like this and resisted it, but we’ve got past that point now, and they have accepted the need to do it.” I ask him to respond to the idea posed by the economic right, that such legislation could some how damage the UK as a leading centre of banking.

“No, I think it certainly doesn’t damage Britain’s reputation if our banks are made safe. We are trying to stop a repetition of that catastrophe. We commissioned some of the top people in the country to give us advice and this was the conclusion. People are saying, ‘you’re not being radical enough, why don’t you split the banks completely?’, but I think we’ve done enough to make them safe.”

However radical the changes he will make as Business Secretary, they are in a sense microeconomic, with limited scope for shaping the economy. “The Chancellor does have more direct responsibility in terms of macroeconomics, that is the case. My department has some important functions, but they don’t involve managing the level of demand in the economy, so I am only indirectly involved in that.”

To those who would like to see him more directly involved, ambitions for his Chancellorship are obstructed by the coalition agreement. “They may privately have ambitions, but the problem is that under the coalition agreement certain departments are allocated to different parties, and so this is the one I’ve been given, but it’s an important job. The Conservatives wanted to keep the Chancellor’s job, and that of the Foreign and Home Secretaries – that’s not an issue which is there to be reopened.”

On the possibility of leading his party Cable is not especially enthused. “I’ve done it once for a couple of months a few years ago: I’ve been there and done it. I’ve got a very big job. I’m not pushing, let alone intriguing to get into the leader’s job. I’ve always said I won’t rule it out if the leader falls under a bus. But leading the party is not something I’m yearning to do.”

Interview: Jo Brand

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Jo Brand’s current project is a labour of love and frustration. Getting On, which returned to our screens for its third series last week, is set in an NHS ward for the elderly, probably not the most obvious choice for a sitcom.  Although that term seems far too limiting to apply to this gritty and darkly comic drama. Getting On joins The Thick of It, Screenwipe and Cricklewood Greats on the growing list of original and sophisticated comedy to come out of BBC4’s commissioning wisdom.

The show is a triumph of difficult balances: a scathing satire on the frustrations and failings of the National Health Service which also underlines its importance; an unidealised vision of nurses and doctors which manages to show them as flawed humans doing their best to get on in increasingly difficult circumstances; and a work by a stand-up comic which entirely avoids the temptation to rely on snappy one liners. Neither the comedy, the pathos nor the political content is overdone here, something Brand sees as the result of a very conscious effort by herself and fellow writers and stars, Vicki Pepperdine and Joanna Scanlan. She wanted this comedy-drama to say something, but she didn’t want to shout it. ‘I think it’s better to err on the side of subtlety, rather than being in your face. So the comedy hopefully comes from the situations and the characters rather than from underlining every political point.’

The show is shot in a very naturalistic style,  exploiting the very much in vogue fly-on-the-wall documentary effect which has been perfected by Ianucci in The Thick of It. When you combine this with Scanlan’s presence (she also plays Terri in Ianucci’s show) it may not come as a surprise to learn that Peter Capaldi is the director behind this camera-work. The show’s pacing is notably sedate and the setting suitably dreary, so that we get an idea of the boredom of life in a hospital as well as the drama, again something that Brand felt was important.  ‘I still know a lot of people who work in the health service, and they all have said to me that they think it’s very realistic. Because it’s kind of slow, and it’s sort of slightly drudgey and they know that’s what its like.’

It feels like there is a deliberate determination to challenge the depiction of hospital life we more often find on our screens: there are no dashing doctors rushing around emergency wards, saving lives on an hourly basis and managing to fit in several extra-marital affairs in between. Brand laughs when I suggest this impulse: ‘Yeah absolutely, I can’t say I’ve ever seen a hospital that’s anything like that to be honest.’ Well, she would know. Before starting her comedy career in stand-up, Brand spent ten years working as a nurse,  and her husband still works in the health service. This knowledge has helped her to create what has been praised as such a realistic picture: ‘I worked as a student nurse on a ward for the elderly so there’s obviously lots I have taken from that.’

Despite the unalluring vision of a nurse’s life we get in the show, Brand seems to have enjoyed the experience. The doctors, for example, were not all as unbearable as Vicki Pepperdine’s hideous Dr Pippa. ‘I mean you do meet some fairly dreadful, up themselves doctors – but they’re pretty few and far between I have to say.’ She laughs, ‘But I don’t think a nice doctor would have had the same impact’. And Getting On would definitely be poorer without Pepperdine’s hilarious and horrifying creation.

Watching Brand’s assured performance in the show, it’s easy to forget that this was pretty much her first real foray into acting. She reveals she was extremely sceptical about the idea to begin with, ‘I had a couple of times when I’d dipped my toe in the water and hadn’t been particularly successful. So I was a little bit worried that I was going to be fairly appalling.’ It was writing the show, rather than starring in it, that Brand was really passionate about. ‘I did say to the director at the time, if I’m awful let me know and we’ll get someone else in.’

But was acting a challenge she had wanted to try her hand at properly? ‘Oh god no – no, I was a very reluctant actor shall we say,’ she exclaims with a sardonic chuckle. And yet, this reluctant actor was presented with the BAFTA for best comedy actress last year. When I remind her of this she sounds genuinely incredulous and amused by it all: ‘God I know! Believe me, no one was more surprised than I was!’

So will she be staying in TV from now on after such success? After years on the stand-up circuit it must be a relief to escape from such a stressful job. This is the career trajectory of a stand-up’s dreams, surely? Going from facing the mob alone on stage to hosting Have I Got News For You and regularly appearing on panel shows like QI. But Brand, it seems, is a glutton for punishment. When asked if she enjoyed making a comedy drama, her lasting loyalty to her first love is clear to see:  ‘It’s a very different experience, but I have to say that my favourite experience is stand-up because it’s so self contained and the reaction is immediate, I think with television it’s very different really unless it goes out live and even then you don’t know what people sitting in their homes are thinking. It’s rather more tricky doing television I think.’

Some might feel that it can be rather tricky doing standup. At her first gig for example, she faced what she has described as ‘an audience from hell’ and was so nervous as she waited for her turn that she downed seven pints of lager.  Having staggered onto the stage a male heckler started shouting, ‘Fuck off, you fat cow,’ and didn’t stop until she staggered off again.  And yet she kept coming back for more.

Although stand-up must have become a lot easier as a well-established name, Brand still prefers smaller clubs and theatres to large stadium shows, because being able to interact with the audience directly is so important to her. ‘I don’t really do stadiums, but when I do do them with lots of other acts, for charity things for example, I find those huge stadiums are too big for me and you can’t really establish a relationship with the audience. I prefer to downsize and do theatres because you feel you get something going in a theatre that you can’t really in a stadium.’   

I sense there’s a (slightly sadomasochistic) part of her that misses the challenge of those early gigs – the thrill of managing to put a heckler down, all the more satisfying because hecklers tended to be male. Whilst working at the Comedy Store and similar venues in the 1980s, Brand was one of comparatively few female comics. She argues that this had both its advantages and disadvantages. ‘Well, I think there was an assumption for a long time that female comics weren’t as funny as male comics, but I think that’s gradually going.’

 At the time though, once she had shown she could hold her own, the relative scarcity of women might actually have helped her to build a career: ‘The advantage of it was that if you were a female comic that could hack it you tended to get a lot more work because there are so few of you.’ So why does she think she could ‘hack it’ when so many other comics found facing drunken abuse every night hard to handle? Again, it seems her previous career came in handy: ‘I think it kind of helped me maintain my equilibrium and appear not to be that bothered by having you know abuse shouted at me by hecklers, so in that sense it was a great help.’

She is careful to avoid casual stereotyping when discussing her work as a psychiatric nurse:  ‘I don’t want to paint a picture of psychiatric patients being difficult or abusive’. But, her nursing job was certainly not an easy one, ‘because of the particular department that I worked in, absolutely it was helpful.’ That department was an emergency psychiatric clinic in South London, where the staff had to witness, ‘people who were in a very disturbed place, who had been brought in by the police so they were kind of on the edge. Managing all that was quite difficult because there was quite a lot of abuse, and occasional violence and threats of violence, so in some ways facing a drunken audience on a Friday night at the Comedy Store was mild in comparison.’

Playing the dating game

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A recent conversation with an American girl on a term exchange from Dartmouth has opened my eyes to the flaws of modern British dating. When giving her the 411 on dating etiquette in Oxford, or England in general, it transpired that British dating is very different compared to the scene in the States; no wooing, no ‘proper’ dating, just a bbm conversation and a quiet corner of a sweaty club where you can “get to know each other better.” Following on from that, if you do end up going on a date, it somehow brands you and someone you barely know as an item. We explained to said American that consequently you would never go on dates with multiple people at the same time (unless you are particularly sly and can guarantee they won’t find out) because it would be viewed as cheating. She looked on in horror: “But how do you know if you like someone before you’ve even been on a date with them?” The fact that this had never occurred to me demonstrated quite how far the British culture of dating seems to have gone down the plughole. I decided to take a closer look at the phenomenon of the modern British dater (MBD).

Initiating the date

Gone are the days of romantic love letters and dinner dances. This is modern day Britain; a society adorned with social media updates and binge drinking campaigns. You can’t go anywhere in Oxford without seeing a hashtag, hearing a ringtone or smelling the contents of your fellow Wahoo-goer’s stomach. Perhaps it is merely a convenient explanation, but I blame the loss of British romance on these two modern day realities.

Let’s say you meet someone in the ready-meal aisle at Tesco and like the look of them. It should be perfectly legitimate to ask them out on a date to get to know them better, but the nature of the MBD completely prohibits this. Our British culture has made us so mistrusting of strangers that we cannot even bring ourselves to talk to and potentially meet up with new people at risk of them turning out to be a child molester/stalker/general weirdo. I’m not saying we should all turn to the opposite extreme and start inviting strangers round for tea, but isn’t it sad if we are too afraid to get to know new fun-looking people? Cue giving out a phony number and hiding in thebakery section.

The MBD thus has to turn to people they already know/have already shagged; which mainly consists of a small subset of friends, and occasionally extends to friends of friends. But the method by which the asking-out happens is so far removed from the romantic courting of Mr Bingley’s era that its hard to remember what ‘wooing’ even is these days. As a rule: you cannot ask someone on a date by text/bbm/twitter or any other form of social media- you should ask to their face. Otherwise there is risk of it coming across as a booty call/text a toastie service.

Purpose of the date

We need to take dates at face value. The whole purpose of a date is to get to know someone better to decide whether you may or may not wish to see them romantically. A date in itself isn’t a commitment; only an opportunity to have a good time and get to know someone new. If it all goes to pot and you resort to climbing out the bathroom window, so be it.

The problem with the MBD is that asking and then taking someone on a date has been made into this hyperbolic ordeal. Thus, if you are ‘dating’ someone (ie have been on one date or more), you are automatically labelled as a couple.

It then follows that in our youthful culture it is socially immoral to date multiple people at any one time. But why? Yes, it would be wrong if you were leading them all on, playing with their emotions or being intimate with more than one person. But if you are merely enjoying decent conversation over a tasty meal then surely it is completely harmless.

And if we follow this definition of a date being a means of getting to know someone better, taking a boy or girl on a date who you have previously bedded after a drink-fuelled night kind of defeats the whole point. You already know them extremely well (at least intimately) and now you are chatting about how your parents divorced when you were seven years old. It’s all a bit illogical if you ask me.

Who does the asking?

Despite the many changes from the chivalry of the past, there are still a few aspects of dating that haven’t changed at all: boys still tend to ask girls out (not the other way around) and boys are often expected to pay for the date.In non-heterosexual relationships this is obviously not the case, but in an age where there are as many types of sexualities and relationships as there are people, it seems strange that a ‘norm’ like this should exist at all. Women should feel bold enough to ask out boys, and those that do should not be labelled as ‘over-confident’, ‘predatory’, or ‘ballsy’, just a few of the words I’ve heard (thankfully on only a handful of occasions) used to describe girls who do the asking.

A friend of mine explained that she doesn’t feel intimidated asking a boy out on a date, she just wouldn’t want to “hand it to him on a plate” in fear that he’d lose interest. Apparently the boy has to work for it. But surely all this silliness is counterproductive; yes, it is fun to play ‘the game’ but if the boys take on the same playing-it-cool stance as some of the girls insist on doing, then two headstrong people who should plainly be together would never end up an item.

Following on from that, why the hell do some girls still expect the boy to pay for them on a date? There is no logical reason why the man should have to splash out women are perfectly capable of paying for themselves.

It seems to me that the MBD epitomises everything that is worrying about youth culture binge drinking, underage sex and an unhealthy obsession with social media. Maybe it is an age-thing, and maybe classic novels are to blame for inaccurately representing the romance of pre-twenty first century Britain. But I want to know where the romance has gone. One should be able to ask a stranger out on a date without giving them the heebie jeebies. And it ought to be more acceptable for girls to ask boys out, and to pay at least half the bill. Let’s transform the MBD into Prince/Princess Charming and bring back proper British romance.

Scenes of Kathmandu

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Does Football have a racism problem?

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A year ago this week, in a match between Chelsea and QPR, John Terry insulted Anton Ferdinand. That now seems the overwhelmingly probable version of events, notwithstanding Terry’s insistence that he was indignantly repeating an insult Ferdinand accused him of using: an explanation judged improbable by Westminster Magistrates Court, and “implausible and contrived” by the FA. It seems likelier that after repeated baiting by Ferdinand, Terry snapped.
He uttered three words. Two are normally considered highly offensive, but apparently constitute nothing more than a routine reflex in professional football. But Terry also inserted the epithet “black”, and what would have been forgotten in an instant became an indelible stain on English football history.
The consequences of that single word, uttered in the heat of battle, have been staggeringly far-reaching. The domino effect has toppled kingpins. Terry was stripped of the England captaincy. Fabio Capello, England’s £6 million-a-year head-coach, was ousted from his post. Terry’s 78-cap England career was eventually ended by an FA inquiry that contradicted the magistrate’s judgment. Rio Ferdinand and Ashley Cole both received substantial fines for disreputable tweets. And English football was sent into a continuing convulsion of self-scrutinizing angst.
So it was odd that Rio Ferdinand chose on Saturday not to wear a T-shirt supporting an anti-racism campaign, his grievance apparently being that racism is not being taken seriously enough within football. Other rebels joined in, including Reading striker Jason Roberts. According to Cyrille Regis, Roberts’ uncle and one of the first black professionals in England, the protesters are aggrieved at the perceived leniency of Terry’s ban. “It gives the impression that it’s OK,” said Regis. “Come on, do we have zero tolerance or not?”
This specious logic ill befits the considered and eloquent corpus of black players who are among the football’s vocal anti-racism ambassadors. At no stage has the English footballing establishment indicated that it thinks racism is OK. Not when it stripped Terry of the captaincy before any evidence had been offered, and certainly not when it broke with its own regulations to pursue a guilty verdict against Terry after he had been acquitted in a court of law. A zero-tolerance policy does not guarantee draconian punishment, nor does it mean the reintegration of the offender. John Terry hasn’t somehow ‘got away with it’. True, he is not languishing in prison, but he has served his punishment in time and money; and for a single momentary transgression, the greatest accolades of his career have been withdrawn and his reputation irreversibly tattered.
If Terry has been shown leniency, in the length of his ban, in the size of his fine, in being allowed to remain in the national set-up until his guilt was established, then it probably reflects the fact that whilst his remark was reprehensible, it was an isolated offence not indicative of a deep racial prejudice. For all his faults, no-one could fairly call Terry a racist. No racist would tolerate such a close working relationship with numerous black players, no racist would embrace Didier Drogba so warmly after Chelsea’s Champions League triumph. Terry’s remark was instantaneously calculated to be the most provocative and offensive thing he could say, much like Ferdinand’s earlier jibes probably were, not to reflect his sincerely-held Weltanschauung.
Does English football really have a racism problem? Well, if it does, then God help the rest of British society. As an example of meritocratic multicultural integration, the Premier League is hard to better. That doesn’t mean that things are perfect. That doesn’t mean that the anti-racism campaign shouldn’t continue its tireless work. That doesn’t mean that remarks like Terry’s shouldn’t be strongly punished. But the problem is one of stupid people sometimes saying stupid things, not of endemic prejudice and institutional conspiracy.
Two black players did not join their colleagues in protest on Saturday. Mario Balotelli and Peter Odemwingie wore the T-shirts. They have both experienced racist abuse far worse than the insult directed at Anton Ferdinand. Balotelli was regularly pelted with bananas when he played for Internazionale and fans once displayed a banner proclaiming “A negro cannot be an Italian.”
Odemwingie has talked of receiving jeers and monkey chants “every time [he] touched the ball” during his spell at Lokomotiv Moscow. They know better than anyone the difference between a culture where racism occasionally materializes through individual slurs and a culture where an ingrained ‘them-and-us’ mentality prevails.
With that in mind, Rio Ferdinand and his fellows rebels might consider the message that a protest uniting black players sends. They might think carefully about their aim to create a black footballers’ union.
Are they really defending a besieged community whose interests are not served by the existing football establishment? Or are they taking the first dangerous step down a road that leads to division and alienation?

A year ago this week, in a match between Chelsea and QPR, John Terry insulted Anton Ferdinand. That now seems the overwhelmingly probable version of events, notwithstanding Terry’s insistence that he was indignantly repeating an insult Ferdinand accused him of using, an explanation judged improbable by Westminster Magistrates Court, and “implausible and contrived” by the FA. It seems likelier that after repeated baiting by Ferdinand, Terry snapped.

 He uttered three words. Two are normally considered highly offensive, but apparently constitute nothing more than a routine scatalogical reflex in professional football. But Terry also inserted the epithet “black”, and what would have been forgotten in an instant became an indelible stain on English football history.

The consequences of that single word, uttered in the heat of battle, have been staggeringly far-reaching. The domino effect has toppled kingpins. Terry was stripped of the England captaincy. Fabio Capello, England’s £6 million-a-year head-coach, was ousted from his post. Terry’s 78-cap England career was eventually ended by an FA inquiry that contradicted the magistrate’s judgment. Rio Ferdinand and Ashley Cole both received substantial fines for disreputable tweets. And English football was sent into a continuing convulsion of self-scrutinizing angst.

So it was odd that Rio Ferdinand chose on Saturday to spurn a T-shirt supporting an anti-racism campaign, his grievance apparently being that racism is not being taken seriously enough within football. Other rebels joined in, including Reading striker Jason Roberts. According to Cyrille Regis, Roberts’ uncle and one of the first black professionals in England, the protesters are aggrieved at the perceived leniency of Terry’s ban. “It gives the impression that it’s OK,” said Regis. “Come on, do we have zero tolerance or not?”

 This specious logic ill befits the considered and eloquent corpus of black players who are among the football’s vocal anti-racism ambassadors. At no stage has the English footballing establishment indicated that it thinks racism is OK. Not when it stripped Terry of the captaincy before any evidence had been offered, and certainly not when it broke with its own regulations to pursue a guilty verdict against Terry after he had been acquitted in a court of law.

A zero-tolerance policy does not guarantee draconian punishment, nor does it proclude the reintegration of the offender. John Terry hasn’t somehow ‘got away with it’. True, he is not languishing in prison, but he has served his punishment in time and money; and for a single momentary transgression, the greatest accolades of his career have been withdrawn and his reputation irreversibly tattered.

If Terry has been shown leniency, in the length of his ban, in the size of his fine, in being allowed to remain in the national set-up until his guilt was established, then it probably reflects the fact that whilst his remark was reprehensible, it was an isolated offence not indicative of a deep racial prejudice.

For all his faults, no-one could fairly call Terry a racist. No racist would tolerate such a close working relationship with numerous black players, no racist would embrace Didier Drogba so warmly after Chelsea’s Champions League triumph. Terry’s remark was instantaneously calculated to be the most provocative and offensive thing he could say, much like Ferdinand’s earlier jibes probably were, not to reflect his sincerely-held Weltanschauung.

Does English football really have a racism problem? Well, if it does, then God help the rest of British society. As an example of meritocratic multicultural integration, the Premier League is hard to better. That doesn’t mean that things are perfect.

That doesn’t mean that the anti-racism campaign shouldn’t continue its tireless work. That doesn’t mean that remarks like Terry’s shouldn’t be strongly punished. But the problem is one of stupid people sometimes saying stupid things, not of endemic prejudice and institutional conspiracy.

Two black players did not join their colleagues in protest on Saturday. Mario Balotelli and Peter Odemwingie wore the T-shirts. They have both experienced racist abuse far worse than the insult directed at Anton Ferdinand. Balotelli was regularly pelted with bananas when he played for Internazionale and fans once displayed a banner proclaiming “A negro cannot be an Italian.” Odemwingie has talked of receiving jeers and monkey chants “every time [he] touched the ball” during his spell at Lokomotiv Moscow.

They know better than anyone the difference between a culture where racism occasionally materializes through individual slurs and a culture where an ingrained ‘them-and-us’ mentality prevails.

With that in mind, Rio Ferdinand and his fellows rebels might consider the message that a protest uniting black players sends. They might think carefully about their aim to create a black footballers’ union. Are they really defending a besieged community whose interests are not served by the existing football establishment? Or are they taking the first dangerous step down a road that leads to division and alienation?

 

 

Report: Oxfam turns 70

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With thanks to Oxfam GB

Review: The Overtones – Higher

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The Overtones style themselves as a ‘doo-wop boy band’. Style is the right word. Everything feels very polished and slick. Their album cover shows the five of them striding around in various natty suits. Sadly, their music is nowhere near as stylish or even as substantial as their dress sense.

You’d think it’d be hard to get angry about The Overtones, an almost aggressively inoffensive band – all smiles, “bob-shoo-waddy-waddy” backing vocals and crooning. You’d think so.

Unfortunately you’d be wrong. There’s only so much time that you can spend in their company before you get the urge to wash out your ears with bleach in order to dissolve the layer of sugar that accumulates on your eardrum. That period of time barely outlasts the first track.

These are some of the most annoying people in the music business. They obviously think that they’re doing the world a service by bringing back doo-wop (a genre that was annoying to begin with). All they’re actually doing is giving us more background noise. There’s just no edge to this stuff.

The closest they get to any kind of feeling is when rolling their ‘r’s on ‘Reet Petite’, and that feeling is simply the feeling of being out of place. These people deserve to be boringly average auditionees on the spin-off ‘Xtra’ show of some primetime talent contest, not people who, for some unknown reason, have a record deal. It makes you wonder how many other talented but unrecognised people could have made albums if the plastic and paper that went into creating each copy of Higher hadn’t been so needlessly wasted.

I guess the theory is that this is the sort of music that you could ‘enjoy’ alongside your gran. But your gran would probably fucking hate it too, because your gran has brilliant music taste compared to the cretins who signed these grinning, suit-bound twats.

Live Review: Marina and the Diamonds

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A lot has changed since I last saw Marina Diamandis play live. Aged 17, I saw a rough and ready set of quirky, new-wave inspired songs, whereas what this initially cynical 20-year-old witnessed on Monday night at the O2 was a rather more polished affair. Diamandis has faced criticism for abandoning her indie roots and switching to a more commercialised and chart friendly sound. However, despite some dramatic changes, one thing remains consistent – this lady knows how to put on a show.

The stage transformed with a set reminiscent of the bedroom scene in Grease, and Diamandis appeared bedecked in a wedding veil, kicking off with a rousing version of ‘Lonely Hearts Club’. Effortlessly switching between songs with a warm and engaging patter, some of her old eccentric charm was retained in the use of props such as a ‘Miss Shellfish Beach’ sash and a bizarre robotic dog called Marilyn.

Though the set closer, ‘Fear and Loathing’, fell a little flat, Diamandis’ vocals were otherwise impressive, particularly on crowd favourites ‘I Am Not a Robot’ and ‘Primadonna’. Gone was the static and slightly awkward performance of three years ago, replaced with a display of sheer energy and bombastic dynamism, as she bounded, twirled and cavorted across the stage.

Admittedly, much like the cheesy American high school films and pop culture from which Diamandis draws so much of her imagery, the show was rather frothy and lacked real substance, but it didn’t matter: as a thoroughly enjoyable evening of saccharine pop, it deserves an equally cheesy double thumbs up.

Blessed with the Force

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There have been murmurs recently about the existence of a ‘Blessing Force’ scene in Oxford. News to you? Jeez man, where have you been? Featuring notable scenesters Chad Valley, Trophy Wife and Pet Moon, Blessing Force can loosely be defined as the elusive and enigmatic assortment of artists broadly united by an OX postcode and a commitment to a neo-shoegazing, summery, synth-wave pop. Sort of.

Floating at the heart of this mysterious Oxford milieu lie Fixers, a Beach Boys inspired, psychedelic quintet. They’ve just finished a headline UK tour and released their debut album We’ll be the Moon, garnering widespread critical praise along the way. The Guardian bestowed a deserved four stars while the Sunday Times made the album their CD of the Week.

Evidently, things are looking up, right? Well not for front man Jack Goldstein. He reflects that “Nothing has changed. I’m still as destitute as I was before, I’m still living where I used to live before. I’ve always wanted to be a musician and achieve the making of a real album, and I’ve achieved one of the things I’ve always wanted, but I’m perhaps not feeling the way I thought I’d feel.”

So it’s been an anti-climax? “No, I don’t think that’s quite the right word. We’re not the proverbial outsiders anymore; a lot of mixed messages were sent. And through a mixture of cost compromise, things did get a little bit topsy-turvy. But I couldn’t have asked for much more, and it’s nice that everyone liked the album.”

So do music critics play an important role in today’s music industry? “The role of the music journalist is not invaluable – everyone can be a music critic – but being affiliated with publications that I admire and I like means a lot.”

So how far has Oxford’s notoriously prolific music scene, as well as being the site of the emergence of Blessing Force, been a driving force in Fixers’ musical trajectory? “It’s a city I’ve lived in all of my life… there’s probably some subliminal geographical sub-culture ingrained in us. But I don’t believe in geographically mapping bands; I don’t think it’s right. I’m good friends with Hugo [of Jonquil/Chad Valley fame] and we don’t sound particularly similar.

“Trophy Wife as an entity could have existed all across the South, and do. But because they’re aligned with other bands they get thought of as sounding like [Blessing Force]. Realistically they all sound so different.”

Jack has declared in previous interviews that he would like to abandon playing live, a stance which might strike some music purists as peculiar: surely the live performance represents the pinnacle of musical endeavour, the culmination of a long artistic process finally rewarded and finalised by real-life fan reception? “Well after the show at Modern Art, [in Oxford on 13.10.12] I’d like to do [live gigs] all the time. I was a bit scared before… especially as I’m the front man. And I do genuinely enjoy recording a lot more. It’s a lot more fun, as you get to experiment.
“Now, more than ever, people want to see bands live…live music has emotional connotations. But with new music, I’m a bit dumbfounded by it. Nothing in the UK really interests me. You delve into history and it becomes more experimental; there’s so much great music.”

So what’s next for the surf pop darlings? Jack replies happily, “We’re doing behind the scenes stuff, which basically means we’re all being quite lazy. We’re working on recording, sitting back and working out how we’re going to do these new songs. I like the idea that as long as Fixers are around we’ll be releasing an album every year’.

‘In Time We Hate That Which We Fear’

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The urge to include strong terms in both normal dialect and formal speeches is a compelling one. The emotion, the passion, the sense of unity that can be instilled by a sensationalist speech have let words such as ‘hate’ and ‘hypocrisy’ become commonplace in politics today.

If we take a look across the pond, the scale and magnification of hatred makes America an obvious place to start. The Republicans, and specifically the Tea Party, are the worst perpetrators. The pure hatred directed towards Obama is staggering. First there was the birth certificate speculation, and the notion that Obama is alien to American values. That he’s working not for the American people but for an enemy ideology is a widely held belief.

The hatred doesn’t stop there. Top Republicans, Romney included, fan this wave of hatred on a consistent basis. Quips about the birth certificate, claims that Obama sympathised with the extremist attacks in Benghazi, and slips of the tongue by Romney saying that the right needed to “hang Obama”, may seem merely unfortunate, but they make you wonder what he was really thinking. And he doesn’t hold back about branding Obama a liar either, even if there isn’t anything to back it up with, recently saying “…the President tends to, how shall I say it, to say things that aren’t true.” The reaction of the party faithful? They lap up every word.

Come back across to home soil however and the hatred flows in every direction. In the UK, it’s sometimes a tendency of the left to hate the Conservatives – that poor-bashing, profit-seeking, class-discriminating nasty party. At the TUC conference, more than a sprinkling of people proudly showed off their t-shirts adorned with the words: “Thatcher: A generation of trade unionists will dance on Thatcher’s grave”.  But mainstream left-wing outlets sometimes also convey a certain hatred towards the right – maybe not in such a tasteless manner, but they do so all the same. The Guardian and Observer, well-respected papers, often play host to pieces declaring their “hatred” of the Tories/the rich/the toffs – insert as appropriate.

It almost seems that it’s okay to “hate” the Tories, but the moment you flip it around the other way – to hating “socialism” – you’ll be ostracised and labeled as extremist, prejudiced, intolerant etc. Of course that is precisely the view many moderate British and Europeans hold about the Tea Party in America, while many right wingers there regard anything that could even mildly smack of “socialism” as an anathema.

However, don’t be fooled into thinking that this is simply a preserve of the British left. The Conservatives have long had their own way of expressing hatred – they call it hypocrisy. It sounds less violent but it is just as effective. Their constant lambasting of the “socialist lefties” as hypocrites with selective memories is both widespread and applied indiscriminately to any left-leaning thinker, be they centre or at the opposite end of the “left” spectrum.  Further right than the Consevatives come the parties whose general xenophobia and hatred of immigrants is their life blood.

So why do all sides do it? Are we really a society of hatred? Like anything, it’s probably a combination of factors:

1. Moral high ground: common to both the Tea Party and to many on the left-wing in the UK, is the conviction of owning the moral high ground. In the US it takes more of an evangelical slant, but over here it’s still often a question of good and evil. If you don’t want to take from the rich and give to the poor, well then you’re obviously just a wicked human being.

2. Easy common ground: it’s far easier to rally a group around a strong emotion than a moderate one, and hatred is no different. A well-recognised problem for Obama is that the Tea Party hates President Obama much more intensely than liberals love him.

3. Fear: the moment we feel threatened, the automatic response is to hate that from which the fear stems. Shakespeare recognized this when he penned the phrase, “in time we hate that which we often fear”. Amidst the scandals of modern politics, it’s easy to forget that the word politics stems from the Greek, “of, for, or relating to citizens’. Most politicians are working for a better society; irrespective of party, the main focus is the same, they just have different ways of getting there. So the moment an alternative view, one which may actually be credible and popular, is voiced by the opposition, this immediately become a threat – and the easiest way to combat a threat – is to find reasons to hate it.

So what to make of it? Well, one can only hope that politicians on all sides of the spectrum will come round to the fact that a considerate approach which has weighed out the counter-argument, but dismissed it with a stronger one of their own, is probably the most viable platform from which to win an election. If we want politics to once again be the respected cause that it once was, then by all means have the passion, but then leave out the hate.