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A military attack is unthinkable

Once cast as part of the ‘axis of evil’, Iranians have shown they are real people, not collateral damage in waiting

So Dick Cheney was right. In the end, the Iraqi people did respond to American soldiers with flowers. The only trouble was, it was their shipping out, not their digging in, that the Iraqi people celebrated. Today, as US forces marked their formal withdrawal from the towns and cities they invaded more than six years ago, the Iraqi people showed the kind of spontaneous joy the former vice-president once imagined would welcome the 173rd Airborne Brigade. There were streamers and balloons, pop concerts in the park and, yes, flowers – garlanding the abandoned checkpoints of the US military in petals.

Now, as Iraq recedes, it is the country next door that looms ever larger. Handled the wrong way, Iran threatens to define Barack Obama the way Iraq defined George W Bush.

There are some who believe Bush’s mistake was not to have shifted his aim eastward: that if he was looking for an oil-rich state in the Persian Gulf with links to terrorism and dreams of weapons of mass destruction then Iran, not Iraq, should have been his target. That kind of talk makes others nervous. They fear that the US might one day repeat the Iraq calamity, with the ayatollahs cast in the role of Saddam Hussein.

Those worriers will hardly find it comforting that the men who agitated for invasion in 2003 are back on the warpath once more: Paul Wolfowitz castigated Obama in the Washington Post earlier this month for taking “a neutral posture” towards the street protesters in Iran, calling on the president to throw all his prestige behind the uprising and against the regime. He wasn’t calling for regime change in Tehran, exactly, but Wolfowitz spoke about Iran’s rulers the same way he once spoke about Saddam.

Is that a sign of things to come? Put simply, have the events of the last three weeks in Tehran made the prospect of US-led action against Iran – up to and including the use of military force – more or less likely?

At first glance, those advocating regime change seem to have had a boost. The world has just watched a three-week infomercial exposing the brutality of Iran’s leaders. If it’s not allegations of a stolen election, including the black comedy of Monday’s announcement from the Guardian Council that, yes, there had been an error in the count and therefore Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s vote would be revised upward – it’s the violence that has followed.

One western diplomat says opinion in the chancelleries of Europe has hardened, even among those once well-disposed towards Tehran: “They have seen the face of this regime – and it’s not pretty.”

What’s more, those eager for confrontation might find an all too willing partner in Iran’s rulers. Professor Ali Ansari, a noted authority on the country, predicts that a regime that now “suffers from a serious domestic legitimacy problem – and which knows it – will seek a foreign foe, something to rally the country around.” He predicts “acts of provocation”, and only hopes Israel is wise enough not to take the bait.

Above all, those pushing for regime change could find international public opinion more receptive than it would have been a month ago. Three weeks of YouTube footage, including the blood-spattered image of Neda Soltan, the female protester shot dead in cold blood, has surely created a well of public sympathy from which any advocate of action against the mullahs could draw. One can imagine the arguments as, in 2011, President Obama, backed by his loyal ally Prime Minister Cameron of Britain, addresses the United Nations demanding a united show of strength to save the benighted people of Iran.

But the events of the last few weeks could point in the opposite direction too. Officially the US and UK say they want a change in policy, not regime – and, despite everything, that door is not closed. Indeed, it’s possible that the supreme leader’s Mugabe-like attacks on Britain – casting London and the BBC as the puppet masters behind the uprising – are a diversionary tactic by an elite that does not want to attack the US. Yes, Ali Khamenei has slammed Britain – but he has pointedly failed to rebuff Obama’s outstretched hand. In other words, a policy change by Iran is still possible.

But the deeper point relates to public sentiment, especially in the US. Seven years ago, Bush cast Iran as part of the “axis of evil”, a faraway, abstract place clothed in black and bent on destruction. Now the world’s people have read Iranians tweeting, minute by minute, on their aching desire for freedom. They have heard that Tehranis climb each night on to their rooftops to shout “God is great” – a subversive reminder to Khamenei that he is outranked by another supreme leader. They have seen, at last, that Iranians have a human face.

In this, an unexpected but eloquent source has been, of all things, Comedy Central’s satirical Daily Show. Incredibly, the programme had its own correspondent in Iran. Brilliantly sending up the grammar of flak-jacketed TV reporters, he has been ushering real Iranians into American living rooms – listening in mock frustration as they refuse to conform to the stereotype, telling him: “We don’t hate Jews, we don’t hate Americans, we don’t hate anybody.” Even the goatherd in a remote village shows a stunning knowledge of US geography; a market trader correctly identifies the US speaker of the House. As anchor Jon Stewart put it on the eve of the election: “The evil, despotic, apocalyptic death cult we know as Iran appears to be one of the more vibrant democracies in the Middle East.”

Of course, educated folk will insist they have long been familiar with Iran’s human face. They will point to art exhibitions such as Made in Iran, now in London, or Iran Inside Out in New York, movies including the new Shirin and the much-admired Persepolis, or memoirs such as Reading Lolita in Tehran. What’s different about the last few weeks, however, is that this exposure to the complexity, variety and sheer humanness of Iran’s people has become mainstream.

This could cut both ways. Some Europeans and Americans might feel such empathy for the green revolutionaries that they join the neocon call and demand their governments act to rescue the Iranians from tyranny. But it’s more likely that many would recoil from a shock and awe bombardment that would kill thousands of the very people for whom they now have a strong affinity. There was, alas, too little feeling for the peoples of Iraq and Afghanistan: they were always faceless, even in death.

All of which leaves Obama engaged in delicate diplomatic footwork. He must stand up for democracy, condemning the suppression in Iran as “outrageous”, even as he gives the ayatollahs no excuse to crack down on the protesters as foreign agents, and all the while ensuring the western offer to Iran of rapprochement in return for compromise remains on the table. It is subtle work. But now that the world’s people have seen the human face of Iran, nothing less will do. The street protesters of Tehran may have failed to topple their rulers. But in this – in showing the world that the people of Iran are human beings, not collateral damage in waiting – they have been a glorious success.

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Franken laughs last

The long-running battle for Minnesota’s Senate seat is finally over. Democracy – and Al Franken – won fair and square

In the end, the conspiracy theories became so laughable that the Republican Senatorial Campaign Committee (RSCC) quietly removed its own “Minnesota Recount” website, once it became clear that no, the Democratic candidate Al Franken was not “stealing” the US Senate election in Minnesota, as the Republican party had been shamefully declaring, without actual evidence, for weeks following election day back on 4 November 2008.

Nearly eight months on from election day, Franken finally got to celebrate his election as Minnesota’s next US senator after the defeated Republican incumbent Norm Coleman dropped his quixotic legal challenge, and the state’s Republican governor announced he was going to formally approve Franken’s victory.

Although the victory was sealed today, the Republican claims of “voter fraud” became impossible to support long ago, because hand-marked paper ballots – nearly three million of them – as cast by the voters in the squeaker of an election, were actually being counted, in full view of the media and any interested citizen alike. To a ballot, they were all accounted for, and any disagreement about voter intent on those ballots was adjudicated in an open process by a bipartisan state canvassing board. All but a handful of those votes were determined unanimously by the board to have been cast either for Franken, for Coleman, for a third party candidate or for nobody at all.

The only question remaining after the weeks-long, painstaking, public hand-count was whether a number of uncounted absentee ballots, rejected as per the state’s strict standards for counting, should, in fact, be counted.

A tripartisan, three-judge panel took their time, in yet another fully public process, in reviewing evidence and hearing witness testimony presented by both sides. A few hundred more ballots were deemed to be legitimate and improperly rejected, and those too were then publicly counted – the counting again witnessed by all – and added to the final tally.

Hand-counted paper ballots proved, yet again, to be the gold standard in this election, which the state canvassing board, the three-judge election contest panel and now the state’s supreme court has affirmed as won by Franken, the former radio talkshow host and comedian, by a mere 312 votes.

Minnesota’s excellent election law, requiring both the secretary of state and the governor to sign the election certification only after all election contests are settled in the state, has assured that the next senator from Minnesota will not serve under a cloud of suspicion. Only the most insane and/or disingenuous could challenge the findings from one of the longest and most transparent election hand-counts in the history of the US.

Coleman, of course, may do exactly that. Though it’s exceedingly unlikely the US supreme court would rule in his favour – or even deem to review the case – Coleman still has the right to decide whether or not he’ll continue his fight, by taking it to the highest authority in the land.

If other states, and even the nation, had a law requiring that all ballots actually be counted, and all contests be fully settled before seating, we might have avoided the clouds of illegitimacy which always shrouded the Bush administration following the disputed election results in Florida 2000 and Ohio 2004, as well as countless other races – including Iran 2009.

When ballots are counted in secret (or, in many cases, not counted at all), democracy is dangerously imperilled. Lucky for Minnesotans, that wasn’t the case up there, even if it meant some eight months without proper representation in the US Congress. It was worth the wait.

Transparency was no match for the conspiracy theorists, including the RSCC, the head of the Republican party and even the Republican National Lawyers Association, who embarrassingly joined the black helicopter crowd in touting evidence-free claims of Franken’s “efforts to steal a seat in the United States Senate”.

Coleman, of course, was entitled to his contest, though it quickly became a desperate comedy of errors for the ousted Republican. His election contest began with a presentation of doctored evidence and concluded with the revelation of hidden legal notes and witnesses. The more he challenged the election and the counting of previously rejected absentee ballots, the wider Franken’s margin of victory grew.

The hard-fought post-election contest was understandable, of course. It’s a pity that Democrats don’t fight like hell for each and every vote they’re entitled to (yes, I’m speaking to you, John Kerry, and too many of your colleagues, or would-be colleagues.) Franken’s victory will now offer the Democrats a 60-vote, filibuster-proof majority in the Senate, following the recent party jump by former Pennsylvania Republican Arlen Specter.

Minnesota’s law is a good one, but as with any law, there is no guarantee it won’t be abused, as Coleman has done for so many months by filing specious challenges, flipping and flopping on ballots he first fought to keep from being counted, only to change his mind later in hopes of having them counted after all, once it appeared he was on the losing side of the democratic draw.

And what of those infamous claims of Democratic “voter fraud” by all of those Acorn voters? After the most detailed, ballot-by-ballot, voter-by-voter analysis of an election likely in the history of the country, surely the Republicans would be able to show at least one case of fraud committed by their favourite bogey-man community organising, voter-registration group, right? After all, Acorn managed to register more than 42,000 new voters in Minnesota in the last election cycle. With all the claims of voter fraud being committed by the group, surely this election, of all elections, would be where evidence of all that fraud would finally be revealed for all to see, no? Um, no. Apparently not.

Not a single allegation of Acorn-related voter fraud was presented by the Republicans throughout the entire eight-month contest, even in an election in which just a few hundred votes separated winner from loser. The closest anybody came to presenting evidence of such fraud was when Coleman’s own witness admitted that he hadn’t signed his ballot, and that it had been forged by his girlfriend. Coleman fought to have that ballot, and others that were also illegally submitted, accepted in the final tally. So much for the Democratic voter fraud canard. If nothing else, this election once again revealed the Republican claims of voter fraud to be amongst the biggest frauds in modern American elections. Transparency has a way of doing that.

Despite his concession speech this afternoon, Coleman could still try his luck at the US supreme court, and given the wild-card make-up of that body, anything could happen, I suppose. The law has little to do with it, it seems (see 2000′s Bush v Gore). But the story here is that democracy only works when every citizen is allowed to participate both in the casting and – as importantly – in the counting of the ballots.

When democracy is visible to all, it works. When it becomes buried behind secrecy, insider tabulations and computerised black boxes, the very basis of our system of government is put dangerously at stake.

Transparency wins again. Along with the voters of Minnesota. Nice to see the voters win one for a change. Now if Barack Obama puts his money where his mouth is and delivers some of the transparency to the American people that he once promised, we might stand a chance at rebuilding this country. That appears a difficult fight at this time. But the results, if we can get them, just as in Minnesota, will be worth every moment of that fight.

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E for effort, Mr Balls

Parents already have information overload when it comes to choosing schools for their children – report cards won’t help

School report cards are the latest hot idea from education secretary Ed Balls, in his new white paper being unveiled today.

Having been slated for over-examining the country’s kids, he has decided to turn his obsessive desire for grading to a new arena – the schools themselves. Parents, as well as teachers and governors, will be among those asked to rate their schools – and the school report cards could also include GCSE scores, “value-added” scores, and even how much the kids enjoy the place.

Well – E for effort, Mr Balls. The very last thing parents like me need is yet another layer of paperwork or online statistics to wade through before we fill in school application forms. Three of my four kids will move on and up in the education system in September 2010 – which means that, come this autumn, I’ve already got piles and piles of brochures, statistics and Ofsted reports to wade through – and my diary is packed with open days for this school or that.

The reality is that parents like me have got information overload when it comes to deciding where to apply for places for our children. And not only that, but official stuff has never been the most important source of information anyway. I know Balls has got kids himself, but maybe he’s not spending enough time at the school gate – hasn’t he realised that we parents whose children are nearing the top of primary school are doing our own exhaustive research, day in and day out? I’ve been to two social events at our primary school this term, and at both the air was thick with chat about the relative merits of the choices for those of us with children in Year 5. And don’t start telling me it’s only middle-class folk who want to exchange information and get the lowdown on what schools are doing well – I’ve never heard anything so wrong, or so patronising. Not only are the working-class families in our school entirely on top of where to apply, they’re often a lot more savvy than the middle-class parents.

But the truth is that report cards are just a smokescreen anyway, because what matters most to us isn’t collating the statistics and finding out that St Cake’s School is the best place for our little Sam or Amelia … it’s being able to get the said kid actually INTO St Cake’s.

If Balls really wanted to be helpful, he could compile a little booklet on how to negotiate the schools application system – it can be unbelievably complicated. And then maybe he’d do a follow-up, aimed at parents whose kids are rejected from all their choices, and who find themselves seriously stressed and up against it all summer long while they desperately try to find somewhere good for their child for September. There’s plenty of room for improvement here, Mr Balls!

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Nationalised banks must go green

Environmental groups are suing the Treasury in an effort to ensure that RBS invests only in sustainable and ethical projects

Since the banking crisis last year, RBS has remained firmly in the public eye as the most controversial bank in the UK. Beyond the populist pillorying of Fred Goodwin’s undeserved pension bonanza and the most recent wave of outrage over the size of the new boss’s pay packet, lay more fundamental questions over the relationship between public money, climate change and the role of finance in fuelling the expansion of coal, oil and gas around the world. Because the Treasury didn’t provide any satisfactory answers when we asked them these questions, Platform, the World Development Movement and People & Planet are today filing an application for a judicial review over the lack of environmental and human rights considerations in the recapitalisation of RBS.

For some years, RBS has been targeted by NGOs and climate activists as being the UK high-street bank most associated with pumping billions into fossil fuel projects across the globe. Until it recently wised up to the need for a greener public image, it even went as far as promoting itself on the www.oilandgasbank.com website that it set up. Before the recapitalisation, it had financed companies that were not only disastrous in terms of spewing out countless tonnes of carbon into the atmosphere, but that were also accused of human rights abuses – companies such as Lundin Petroleum, which is active in Sudan and listed by the Sudan Divestment Task Force in its “Top Five Highest Offenders”.

Before the recapitalisation, such instances of questionable finance were a scandal because they helped trash the climate and often human rights too. Since November last year, they are even more outrageous because RBS is now using public money to do it. In March the Guardian reported that in the six months following the initial bailout of the banks, RBS had been involved in financing loans to coal, oil and gas companies worth nearly £10bn (£9,941m) – over a quarter the amount the bank had received from taxpayers at that point. These companies included finance (or assistance in obtaining finance) to oil companies to expand their operations in controversial or politically sensitive regions (such as Tullow Oil in Uganda, and Cairn Energy in arctic Greenland) as well as to energy giant E.ON, which has received a great deal of bad press over its efforts to construct a new coal-fired plant in Kingsnorth, Kent.

The Green Book requires “central government to undertake a comprehensive and proportionate assessment of all new policies, programme and projects so as to best promote the public interest when using government resources”. We felt that using public money to finance new fossil fuel in the face of the threat of climate change flies in the face of public interest. In a letter that was sent in April from the Treasury to our legal council, we were told that “the environmental and human rights records of the individual banks were of no relevance to the decision and therefore the appraisal of the decision that was carried out did not consider the environmental or human rights records or policies of the individual banks”.

We think that if the increasingly climate-conscious UK taxpayer was aware of the type of projects that their money was financing, they would beg to differ. We are not suggesting that the banking bailout shouldn’t have happened. We are saying that now that it has happened, the government has a responsibility, especially given its posturing in the international political arena as being a “global leader on climate change”, to ensure that the public isn’t paying to expand further fossil fuel developments.

On 2 March, 2008, the Treasury established the framework for the management of public investment in recapitalised banks via UK Financial Investments. The framework sets out the basis for how the board of UKFI should manage government shares in the banks, but makes no reference to the need to consider social and environmental criteria, nor to support or even be consistent with other public policy objectives. This is what we are applying to challenge in court.

This isn’t a particularly radical demand, it’s just common sense. The cross-party environmental audit committee has already made the recommendation that the Treasury should “look at the benefits and practicalities of imposing some form of environmental criteria on the investment strategies of those banks in which the state had a controlling stake” while an early day motion tabled by Lib Dem shadow environment minister Martin Horwood proposes the same.

The Treasury has claimed it needs to take an “arm’s-length” approach to the management of RBS to maximise the financial return for the taxpayer. In reality, it already showed that it could get more “hands on” when it intervened over the issue of capping executive bonuses. We need to ask if the interests of the taxpayer would be better served by ensuring that RBS was not actively involved in making huge carbon emissions increases all over the world. This important decision should be made in a transparent and accountable fashion, rather than left to the whims of individuals in the banking sector, especially given the appalling mess that these individuals have already left us in.

With enough political will, RBS could even go further by not only committing to stop financing the “bad stuff” but also taking on an investment mandate of providing much-needed capital to Britain’s cash-starved renewables industry, providing microloans for households to install proper insulation and providing career development loans for the retraining of workers involved in carbon-intensive industries. There are numerous possibilities for transforming a beleaguered financial institution whose name has been dragged through the mud into the Royal Bank of Sustainability.

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Are fat celebrities a danger to us?

We aren’t taking the war on obesity seriously, claims a new study published by Nuffield Health; and large celebrities, such as James Corden and his Gavin And Stacey co-star Ruth Jones, Beth Ditto and Eamonn Holmes, are encouraging us accept being fat as normal. Apart from the fact that I can’t seem to find the original research that this story is based on, which in itself is pretty interesting, I think we have to be wary of studies coming from a hospital that does gastric band surgery and thus makes money out of designating people as obese.

We are in a culture that is so fat-phobic you wouldn’t have thought fat people could be any more demonised, but Nuffield’s line seems to be that obese people in the public eye really should be. We’ve had – and continue to have – so many struggles about race and disability; but looking at the column inches that scrutinise fat and ageing people, both are heading the way of being illegal categories pretty soon. And if not illegal, then certainly worthy of disdain, contempt and commercial exploitation.

There has been a bit of public discussion about very thin girls and boys on catwalks and advertisements, but the style industries seem to have decided, in the end, that it’s all in the name of art and design, and thus the tyrannous aesthetic of size zero doesn’t really matter. That has left the devastating message that one size – skinny and tall – is good, aspirational and the passport to feeling acceptable. So it’s quite interesting that we’re uncomfortable when people actually rebel against the prevailing standard.

The Nuffield PR machine opens up the whole question of categorising people as fat and therefore somehow to be scorned, derided or unworthy – instead of fat being a description, a neutral one about adiposity. Such moralising categories don’t address the serious underlying issues so many people have with bodies and food. You can be eating when you are hungry and be large, or throwing up into the toilet all the time and be within the so-called normal range. Meanwhile, you can be a world-class movie actor – a gorgeous one like George Clooney – and sit in the ridiculous obesity statistics as they are currently conceived. What we have is a population very, very troubled in its eating habits, a fact that is expressed in both visible and invisible ways. That’s a public health emergency, not the fact that we happen to have a variety of shapes in public space.

• Susie Orbach is the author of Bodies and Fat is a Feminist Issue

I know it’s a problem but it’s my problem, thank you very much

The central tenet of this research is utter rubbish. People do not think its OK to be obese just because Beth Ditto is witty and talented. We are constantly reminded how wrong it is for us to be obese. There is more information available on the obesity crisis in the media than I can recall at any other time in my life. Paradoxically, the general pervasiveness of the perfect body in films and music and TV and advertising imagery is genuinely psychologically damaging and therefore an actual contributory factor to obesity. James Corden wobbling his gut in Mathew Horne’s face once a week is not.

I have been overweight for most of my life and I have been aware that it’s a problem. But it is my problem, thank you very much. I deal with it in my own way. I have never thought that my weight was permissible simply because I listened to Bad Manners or loved Jo Brand. My feeling is that if the popularity of Corden and Ditto can help to stop fat kids being picked on by their peers then they are performing a valuable service. A survey like this just sends people straight back to the fridge. The obesity crisis will only be solved by a radical overhaul of education, health and social policy, and certainly not by pin-headed inflammatory half-arsed “research”.
Phill Jupitus

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The names of shame

Nigaz is the latest in a long line of branding blunders, following the great Datsun Cedric, Dyck whisky and Krapp toilet paper

Nigaz. How we laughed. What’s in a name? Several billion dollars of brand equity … if you get it right. Check Nike and Google. The first, the Greek goddess of victory, the second from “googol”, a mathematical term for one followed by a hundred zeroes. Brilliant coinages, each.

And if you don’t? International derision and a certain place in business school case studies of provincialism, corporate astigmatism and swivel-eyed folly. For example, in the early years of the Japanese export drive, Australia was a key market. They researched popular men’s names and, circa 1957, the most popular was Cedric. Hence, the Datsun Cedric became a market leader. It could so easily have been Keith or Bruce. Later, Datsun became Nissan because too many of those same Australians remembered the D-word attached to tanks.

The Japanese have maintained a rich tradition in this area. Mazda has recently offered the Bongo Wagon and Subaru a Sambar Dias II Picnic-Car Astonish. In London, you could go and buy a Toyota MR-2, but if you live in Paris you would want to do no such thing as, pronounced the French way, that name sounds like “emmerdeur“, or “shitty”. In Sweden, there is a biscuit called Bums and a lavatory paper sold as Krapp. The old system of Cona coffee percolators had some difficulty establishing itself in Portugal since that word is the equivalent of the last English four letters retaining an ability to shock.

Right now, in Andalucia, they are selling a local whisky called “Dyck”. Anglophone larrikins enjoy entering bars and asking very loudly for “a big dick”. In the 90s, Ford, apparently innocent of Freudian insights, had a sports coupe called a “Probe“. No data exists to determine to what extent brand values were affected when hopeful Lotharios were met with an explosion of ridicule when they muttered “would you like to come outside and see my Probe?” The decade before, Ford’s key products – Escort and Fiesta – shared their names with girly magazines of the day.

Huge consultancies now exist to avoid this sort of nomenclatural calamity: with markets becoming ever more globalised, “Norwich Union” does not suggest imperial-era probity, only irrelevant obscurity. So, it becomes Aviva. An association with the old lingua franca means the suggestion of Latin always plays well, so Guinness (which evokes ferrety old men in damp West Cork pubs) becomes Diageo, which sounds like a medicine. But then, they always did say it was good for you.

This article was amended 30 June 2009 at 09:20 to take in a correction pointed out by a user (see below).

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The city of Boris can do it

A jamboree of London history is a great idea, but Londoners need to know about it. Big cities deserve big debates

The end of June marks the end of Boris Johnson’s Story of London festival, as Londoners may, or regrettably may not, know. Described by City Hall as a “truly pan-London” and “glorious” celebration of the capital’s “past, present and future” including “hundreds of events”, it was only patchily promoted and sometimes very tricky to locate.

My search for SoL began at the start of the month when its website listed an exhibition in Whitechapel that turned out to be closed and another, in Canary Wharf, that was either non-existent or so difficult to find it might as well have been. It ended on Saturday when my plan to partake of SoL’s Lives of Buildings weekend by visiting an exhibition foundered on an encounter with a security guard in Clerkenwell. “It’s only open on weekdays,” he explained.

I’ve not been alone in such woes. A woman from Hounslow called Helen who reads my Guardian blog about London has been in frequent contact with stories of boroughs that couldn’t contribute to Mayor Boris’s history jamboree because they were told about it too late, and of Tourist Information offices, including Heathrow’s, that hadn’t been told about it at all.

All this is such a shame, because when I’ve found a SoL component, it’s been good. At King’s Place, I saw a predictably excellent talk on London’s rail travel history by the writer Christian Wolmar, followed by an instructively Tory account of the capital’s blitz experience by the historian Andrew Roberts. Stepping out of my cultural comfort zone, I watched a choir perform Orlando Gibbons’s Cries of London on the street at Spitalfields. The Big Smoke, a BFI compilation of documentary clips from the late 19th century to VE Day, found its way to my neighbourhood St John Ambulance hall, in Hackney.

Another correspondent went with his family to one of the festival’s setpiece specials, a Tudor joust at Eltham Palace. “Not bad, if you like jousting,” he said. But his account also compounded the inescapable sense that the SoL has been cobbled together on the cheap – and suffered as a result.

Should Boris hold his hand up? He promoted the festival with two high-profile press conferences, one at Hampton Court (with a man dressed as Henry VIII) and another at the Tower (with Beefeaters) – but his budget didn’t stretch to many posters around town, a special brochure in Time Out, or, it would seem, sufficient human resources to ensure correct website information.

The mayor has talked up the recession-beating properties of the capital’s “cultural offer”, but his paring of GLA spending suggests underinvestment in the SoL’s contribution. Attendance at those King’s Place talks was in the low 20s: not many, even on a Sunday morning. At Spitalfields, punters were outnumbered by choristers. “There wasn’t any publicity,” one said.

Many who voted for Johnson would think frugality apt, and Munira Mirza, his director of culture, may find partner institutions a more fruitful source of additional funding next year. An approving view of the SoL might see it as exemplifying both Johnsonian parsimony and a determination to restore a traditionalist and universalist approach to British history that, in his view, has been sacrificed to multiculturalism for too long. Mirza denies the claims of harsher critics that the SoL has been staid, elitist, in some instances too expensive or largely an ineffective exercise in re-marketing attractions that existed anyway. For me, though, the full potential of a good idea has simply yet to be fulfilled.

Big cities can thrive on big debates about themselves, and future SoLs should strive to promote one. New Yorkers have a powerful sense of their home town’s past and character, one that embraces newcomers and those to the Big Apple born. Groovy Barcelona self-describes with art and monuments. Paris fusses over its appearance constantly. Rome just stands there being Roman. London tells its own story drawing in its way on all these techniques, but its internationalism – nearly half its inhabitants of working age were born abroad – its government’s complex federalism and the sheer vastness of the place make it especially difficult to capture in coherent narrative.

It would go against the grain with Boris to increase the mayoral subsidy or take a more top-down or didactic approach to the SoL, but perhaps he should re-think. His love of history is deep and his populist gifts considerable. Leading a big conversation about the capital’s sense of itself is fully consistent with the job of mayor, which is often more about talking loud and persuading than exercising the post’s limited powers. With the Olympics approaching and the world looking our way, there is no better time for Boris to think bigger, be bossier and make more boldly his case for how the Story of London should be understood and told. I’d probably disagree with most of it, but that’s OK. What is history if not a political background?

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Death of the super model

As Sweden takes over the presidency of the EU, the sad truth is that its famed social state is failing

The Swedes are coming. As Europe lurches to the right amid financial and climate meltdown, a horde of cool-headed Nordic warriors are riding to the rescue. Sweden’s EU presidency from 1 July will be greeted as a breath of fresh air after the Czech leadership, what with the latter’s antics on climate change and arousal chez Berlusconi. What the EU needs is a whiff of sense and reason. And who better to provide it than the social-minded, climate-conscious Swedes?

Sweden still sets hearts racing across Europe. The “Swedish model” might bring up thoughts of a nubile blonde rather than a strong social state, but it is in the latter incarnation that my home country stirs the passions of left-leaning Europeans. Whatever Sweden does must be right, or so reason progressive politicians and Guardian journalists – not to mention scores of Swedes. But beyond this blue-eyed vision lurks a darker reality. Sweden’s conservative coalition government has stood still as the financial crisis has engulfed the country. Jobs, social services and healthcare are eroding. The Sweden Democrats – the equivalent of the BNP – are on the rise. The social state is failing. The Swedish dream is no more.

Swedes were roused from this dream with the 1986 assassination of prime minister Olof Palme. Palme might have left behind “a country where no one was poor and no one had room for optimism” as Andrew Brown puts it, but it was Sweden’s homemade financial meltdown of the 1990s that finally killed off the dream. Poverty was added to the pessimism. Savage cuts hit schools, unemployment rocketed, the krona sank – leaving the social system in a disarray from which it has not recovered. The conservative government at the time has lately been praised worldwide for its handling of the crisis. Actually the bankers were rewarded, not punished, while the rest of the country is still reeling from the cuts, selloffs and dashed dreams the crisis provoked. But the idea of a well-oiled Swedish model insulated from the shockwaves of capitalism runs on like a Volvo. The reality, like troubled, Ford-owned Volvo itself, is more globalised and gloomy than that.

Take healthcare. Swedes do not enjoy free public care: it costs to see a GP. That is, if you manage to see one. Queues are long and scandals rack the system. Psychiatric care, the source of many such scandals, has a near-medieval penchant for authoritarianism with few European equivalents. People are locked up for months for not taking medicine, given no therapy, and spat out of the system into despair and destitution. The mentally ill die in wards and in outpatient isolation. And they do not even have charities to turn to because state-run healthcare is supposed to work: this is Sweden, after all.

Those who do enjoy Sweden’s second-rate public services are lucky. Undocumented migrants, who lack a “personal number”, are barred from day-to-day healthcare. Foreigners do not fit easily into a social system built on the postwar notion of the folkhem, or people’s home, whose rightful inhabitants are the native Swedes. Despite the xenophobic right’s lack of electoral success, Sweden is divided between those inside the system and those outside it – including the asylum seekers now deported en masse to Iraq. But migrants should be happy to be here. This is Sweden, after all.

Even being in the system is less rewarding than it was. Unemployment benefits are falling behind those of other countries, and access to social security involves Big Brother-style controls most Europeans would abhor. The state’s iron grip remains even as the care that used to go with it has gone. Swedes might lack Britain’s profusion of CCTVs, but their lives are scrutinised by an armada of bureaucrats. A new law lets authorities tap all phone and internet traffic crossing the borders. Norwegian lawyers have sued over privacy infringement, leaving the prime minister perplexed – because in Sweden, the state is there to help us.

Just as Sweden was in the vanguard of postwar social democracy, it has since the 1990s become a neoliberal experiment. The experiment has failed, though this fails to register in Sweden itself. No waves rock the stagnant pools of officialdom: strikes are almost unheard of and the tabloids are too busy flogging diet tips to bother. The Swedes cannot let go of their belief in the system. Nor can many on the European left.

Admittedly, Sweden might seem a haven of tranquillity compared with other European states. But in the hunt for a humane social model, Sweden no longer provides the blueprint. Europe’s progressives will have to construct something new. But to do that, those who let their minds drift northwards for inspiration first have to wake up: the Swedish dream is over.

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Don’t blame the G20 police officers

Those who gave the orders, not those who followed them, should take responsibility for violent policing at the G20 protests

In the evidence provided to MPs regarding the policing of the G20, Commander Bob Broadhurst, the head of the Public Order Unit, has unsurprisingly tried to lay the blame at the feet of ordinary police officers for the violent and repressive policing at the G20, citing inexperienced police officers for the levels of “inappropriate violence”.

However, while it is true that there were inexperienced City police on the frontline, it is disingenuous to imply that they were responsible for the worst of the violence. Most of the major cases of police brutality that have emerged from the G20, including the attacks on Ian Tomlinson and Nicky Fisher, were carried out by territorial support group (TSG) officers. These TSG members are level 1 trained – the highest level of public order training available in the police service – and have faced many allegations of violence.

Yet it is still not fair to simply blame the TSG. I have surprised people with my (relative) sympathy for some of the TSG officers involved in policing the G20, and their position as stated on several police blogs, that they were only doing what they were trained to do. While “just following orders” can never be an excuse, the TSG weren’t doing anything they hadn’t done before, and I can understand why they were shocked at this sudden public outcry over their tactics. If Tomlinson hadn’t died, there would have been nothing remarkable about the policing operation, and Broadhurst would have used his normal nugget of “violent troublemakers” to justify the brutality of his officers.

Broadhurst was the “gold commander” for G20 policing – he gave the orders, he implemented the kettles and he ordered the clearing of the Climate Camp. He gave these orders with a full awareness of the tactics his officers would deploy. However, the responsibility of senior public order officers goes further than this. It was Superintendent David Hartshorn’s briefings prior to the G20 that set the tone for the policing operation. His comments regarding the G20 being the start of a “summer of rage” meant everyone, from officers on the ground to protesters to the media, were hyped up to the point where confrontation was inevitable.

The police force must be held to account for their actions, and there are many good aspects to the report. Suggestions such as an end to kettling, and reiterating that police officers should always wear their numbers, are of course welcome. However, in order to evaluate the tactics and violence used at the G20 – and other protests – blame needs to be laid firmly on the heads of the people who gave the orders, and implemented the repressive policies seen on the street. It is not fair to simply blame the foot soldiers, and Broadhurst still has many questions to answer.

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Britain’s fear of protest

The mob has always been the bogeyman of British leaders – an attitude that persists towards today’s peaceful protesters

In our national mythology, John Bull liked to protest. He did it well and with inventive good humour, standing up to the powers that be when they trod on his toes. In truth it has always been exceptionally hard to protest in Britain. In recent months much of the country has been shocked at the response of the police to protests. It’s not British, some people say. Others see it as evidence of a looming police state. Most clearly it shows that people in power share a barely articulated belief that civil society is so vulnerable that a puff of breath will send it crashing to the ground.

In this respect our current leaders are in step with history. The mob has always been the bogeyman of leaders in this country. The Peasants’ Revolt of 1381 haunted the medieval and early modern official mindset, as a horrific example of what happened if you did not act fast to stamp out the first spark of violence. Memories of the civil wars traumatised generations. The watchword of the Glorious Revolution of 1688 was “passive resistance” – a weedy hope that bad men would go away if you wished for it hard enough. Certainly, the peaceful nature of the revolution appeared to show that liberty in Britain came from polite discussions. Above all, the lesson learnt was that once the people had a taste of power they would become rabid.

It might sound like a paradox but the fear of protest was closely bound up with the defence of liberty. Liberty in Britain has been most closely associated with privacy and private property. “Your home is your castle” has been the uninspiring slogan of freedom in this country. What could jeopardise this more than the property-less mob? Britain achieved many important liberties early in its history. Politicians and public opinion was very proud of this fact in the 18th and 19th centuries. The happy state of affairs, this organic evolution, could only be disturbed by popular protest. It would destroy all those subtle balances which had developed through the course of history. In the 1930s the lord chief justice could say that “English law does not recognise any special right of public meeting for political or other purposes”.

Protest gets written out of the history of the development of civil liberties in this country. Taking the long view of history shows, indeed, that few liberties came from revolution or direct action. Yet that is to misread history. I argued in my previous post that the struggle for liberty is more like a guerrilla campaign than all-out war, the victories of which are obscure and often incomplete. Never is this so clear than when we consider protest. Many of the victories of the 18th and 19th centuries were only achieved because behind a John Wilkes, a William Hone or a Henry Hunt stood a crowd. When the state gradually backed down from restrictive measures and began to reform itself it was partly because the threat of violence stalked in the background. Yet protestors have always been seen as being part of the losing side of history. Wat Tyler, the Levellers, the Chartists, those who clashed with the police on Bloody Sunday in 1887 and many others had a profound impact on our politics without, as it were, winning a match.

So easily are these struggles written out of our history that protest has been seen as un-British, not the done thing. Today the same assumption that freedom and order are intimately connected reigns at the centre of power, even if it is articulated in a different way. It is the assumption that all the great causes of history have been sorted out or will shortly be sorted out by a beneficent government. Why rock the boat? And the presumption in favour of private property has been replaced with a presumption in favour of the peaceable – or quiescent. Antisocial behaviour has become one of the great crimes of the age, and what is more antisocial than blocking a street, picketing a shop, temporarily closing a power station or embarrassing the government by shouting at a visiting world leader? What is more harmful to the supposedly fragile fabric of society than words or actions which may offend? Passivity is, in this view, a civic virtue: a good citizen is someone who keeps the economy chugging along by visiting the mall. What could be less offensive than that?

This is to invent new ways to achieve the same ends. Indeed, protest can sometimes damage democracy. But it is also clear that protest has been crucial to the development of liberty and democracy. Today’s unpopular cause is tomorrow’s political orthodoxy. Protest is often people’s first and most profound involvement with politics.

Protest has rarely had a good press in Britain and I am pessimistic that things will ever change. We live at a time when restrictions on protests in Parliament Square are supported on the grounds of health and safety and because it makes the tourist experience more sanitary. Which is to say, of course, that health’n'safety and the tourist industry trump politics: mind how you go! It has made Westminster an intimating place for anyone who has an opinion. It is little wonder that disengagement with politics is endemic. The government and the police have a daunting arsenal of laws and equipment. It is out of proportion to the threat of disorder and it is fatal to politics.

This is the case in all ages. Our statute book and common law bristle with restrictive laws and always have done. In the volatile 1930s the state was adept at shutting down any manifestation of dissent, from Communist AGMs to humble soapbox orators. Often it just dusted down long-forgotten acts of parliament. A meeting could be broken up by a police constable if he apprehended that a breach of the peace was likely, if it impeded other citizens or if a policeman considered that a person of “reasonable firmness and courage” might be alarmed (to name but three instances). Thus the meek campaigner against unemployment was lumped together with the BUF thug. The fact that the neglected statute book needed to be brought down from the shelf suggests, for the optimistic at least, that willing amnesia on the part of officialdom can allow liberty to thrive. Rare, however, is the government which possesses these liberal instincts or is scared into inaction. Taking a sledgehammer to crack a nut is an ingrained habit for those in power in this country; perhaps it goes back to 1381.

When John Wilkes was on trial the judge tried to silence his rowdy supporters. “This is not the clamour of the rabble, my lord,” Wilkes replied, “but the voice of liberty, which must be heard.” Sometimes it is hard to distinguish between the two, and it has been a repeated failure of British politicians to make the effort. By taking a tough line every time something looks like getting out of hand, the state intimidates the voice of liberty as much as it prevents anarchy.

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Britain’s fear of protest

The mob has always been the bogeyman of British leaders – an attitude that persists towards today’s peaceful protesters

In our national mythology, John Bull liked to protest. He did it well and with inventive good humour, standing up to the powers that be when they trod on his toes. In truth it has always been exceptionally hard to protest in Britain. In recent months much of the country has been shocked at the response of the police to protests. It’s not British, some people say. Others see it as evidence of a looming police state. Most clearly it shows that people in power share a barely articulated belief that civil society is so vulnerable that a puff of breath will send it crashing to the ground.

In this respect our current leaders are in step with history. The mob has always been the bogeyman of leaders in this country. The Peasants’ Revolt of 1381 haunted the medieval and early modern official mindset, as a horrific example of what happened if you did not act fast to stamp out the first spark of violence. Memories of the civil wars traumatised generations. The watchword of the Glorious Revolution of 1688 was “passive resistance” – a weedy hope that bad men would go away if you wished for it hard enough. Certainly, the peaceful nature of the revolution appeared to show that liberty in Britain came from polite discussions. Above all, the lesson learnt was that once the people had a taste of power they would become rabid.

It might sound like a paradox but the fear of protest was closely bound up with the defence of liberty. Liberty in Britain has been most closely associated with privacy and private property. “Your home is your castle” has been the uninspiring slogan of freedom in this country. What could jeopardise this more than the property-less mob? Britain achieved many important liberties early in its history. Politicians and public opinion was very proud of this fact in the 18th and 19th centuries. The happy state of affairs, this organic evolution, could only be disturbed by popular protest. It would destroy all those subtle balances which had developed through the course of history. In the 1930s the lord chief justice could say that “English law does not recognise any special right of public meeting for political or other purposes”.

Protest gets written out of the history of the development of civil liberties in this country. Taking the long view of history shows, indeed, that few liberties came from revolution or direct action. Yet that is to misread history. I argued in my previous post that the struggle for liberty is more like a guerrilla campaign than all-out war, the victories of which are obscure and often incomplete. Never is this so clear than when we consider protest. Many of the victories of the 18th and 19th centuries were only achieved because behind a John Wilkes, a William Hone or a Henry Hunt stood a crowd. When the state gradually backed down from restrictive measures and began to reform itself it was partly because the threat of violence stalked in the background. Yet protestors have always been seen as being part of the losing side of history. Wat Tyler, the Levellers, the Chartists, those who clashed with the police on Bloody Sunday in 1887 and many others had a profound impact on our politics without, as it were, winning a match.

So easily are these struggles written out of our history that protest has been seen as un-British, not the done thing. Today the same assumption that freedom and order are intimately connected reigns at the centre of power, even if it is articulated in a different way. It is the assumption that all the great causes of history have been sorted out or will shortly be sorted out by a beneficent government. Why rock the boat? And the presumption in favour of private property has been replaced with a presumption in favour of the peaceable – or quiescent. Antisocial behaviour has become one of the great crimes of the age, and what is more antisocial than blocking a street, picketing a shop, temporarily closing a power station or embarrassing the government by shouting at a visiting world leader? What is more harmful to the supposedly fragile fabric of society than words or actions which may offend? Passivity is, in this view, a civic virtue: a good citizen is someone who keeps the economy chugging along by visiting the mall. What could be less offensive than that?

This is to invent new ways to achieve the same ends. Indeed, protest can sometimes damage democracy. But it is also clear that protest has been crucial to the development of liberty and democracy. Today’s unpopular cause is tomorrow’s political orthodoxy. Protest is often people’s first and most profound involvement with politics.

Protest has rarely had a good press in Britain and I am pessimistic that things will ever change. We live at a time when restrictions on protests in Parliament Square are supported on the grounds of health and safety and because it makes the tourist experience more sanitary. Which is to say, of course, that health’n'safety and the tourist industry trump politics: mind how you go! It has made Westminster an intimating place for anyone who has an opinion. It is little wonder that disengagement with politics is endemic. The government and the police have a daunting arsenal of laws and equipment. It is out of proportion to the threat of disorder and it is fatal to politics.

This is the case in all ages. Our statute book and common law bristle with restrictive laws and always have done. In the volatile 1930s the state was adept at shutting down any manifestation of dissent, from Communist AGMs to humble soapbox orators. Often it just dusted down long-forgotten acts of parliament. A meeting could be broken up by a police constable if he apprehended that a breach of the peace was likely, if it impeded other citizens or if a policeman considered that a person of “reasonable firmness and courage” might be alarmed (to name but three instances). Thus the meek campaigner against unemployment was lumped together with the BUF thug. The fact that the neglected statute book needed to be brought down from the shelf suggests, for the optimistic at least, that willing amnesia on the part of officialdom can allow liberty to thrive. Rare, however, is the government which possesses these liberal instincts or is scared into inaction. Taking a sledgehammer to crack a nut is an ingrained habit for those in power in this country; perhaps it goes back to 1381.

When John Wilkes was on trial the judge tried to silence his rowdy supporters. “This is not the clamour of the rabble, my lord,” Wilkes replied, “but the voice of liberty, which must be heard.” Sometimes it is hard to distinguish between the two, and it has been a repeated failure of British politicians to make the effort. By taking a tough line every time something looks like getting out of hand, the state intimidates the voice of liberty as much as it prevents anarchy.

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The currency of high office

The prime minister’s big payday will come after No 10. So it is futile to use his salary as a public sector yardstick

Where’s the new benchmark for pecuniary excess? At Ronaldo’s prospective £560,000 a week as he races towards £18m a year in Madrid? At Stephen Hester’s Royal Bank of Scotland rescue level, £1.2m heading for £15m? But no: apparently no such giddy limits apply. The line in the financial sand, now drawn by David Cameron and Fleet Street alike, is just £196,250 a year. The benchmark is Gordon Brown.

Up to 47 BBC top executives are paid more than the prime minister,” gasps the Mail in fury. A suddenly ubiquitous cry. Cameron wants all public servants paid more than Brown to appear before a star chamber of worth-assessment interrogators. And yet, on examination, it’s a figure that tells you very little.

Brown, on behalf of his groaning ministers, has ordered a pay freeze this difficult year. Well, he would, wouldn’t he? Margaret Thatcher, feeling the chill of 1979, did the same. Tony Blair, triumphant in 1997, exercised parallel restraint for a while. No 10 traditionally believes that you ease the pain by sharing it. Yet watch those mirrors glint and glide …

If you’re an ex-minister with expertise in the bank, you make your money when you’ve lost office, not when you’re struggling to cope with a department. Observe Patricia Hewitt, David Blunkett and friends as they accumulate directorships and consultancies in the £150,000 league (pending Brown’s supposed clean sweep of MPs taking second, third and fourth jobs). But if you’re a prime minister, then the really big paydays come once you’re not just out of power but out of parliament, once you’re a celebrity with reflected lustre to sell.

The easiest target here is Tony Blair. No one can cite speculation-free figures, but let’s say £12m or so in the first flush of leaving office: £4m for penning his memoirs, £2m from JPMorgan Chase, the odd £500,000 from Zurich Financial Services, upwards of $100,000 a pop for lecturing America’s very rich, plus £140,000 per annum in everlasting pension and office dues from a grateful nation. You don’t get that at the BBC.

And before we get lost in another bout of mere Blair-bashing, just look at John Major’s array of directorships and chairmanships over the years. They don’t call the Carlyle investment group the masters of the world (semi-retired) for nothing. Just look, too, at the Thatcher Foundation in its first halcyon phase of total opacity. Brown, when his moment to walk away comes, won’t really be playing Mr Chips on a teacher’s wage. He’ll be sitting on multinational boards, joining old statesmen’s clubs, flogging his life story to the Sunday Times, and generally making sure the manse roof is proofed for many decades to come.

Hypocritical? Not particularly, when you study the ways of these globalised times. Barack Obama rates $400,000 a year plus allowances at the White House, a sum neither Goldman nor Sachs would get out of bed for: he’ll make as many millions as he wants later, when there are presidential libraries to be built and children’s inheritances to be secured. Why does <a href=”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francisco_Pinto_Balsem%C3%A3o” title=”Francisco Pinto Balsemão”>Francisco Pinto Balsemão sit on the Daily Mail board? In part, because he was once PM of Portugal. And Brian Mulroney on the Independent board? In part, because he was twice PM of Canada. There’s an international currency here, an unstated bargain that says “keep me in homes, food and security now, and I’ll make up for it when the arc lights dim”.

You can easily spot public servants topping Brown’s £196,000. Try a Metropolitan police commissioner on £235,000, dozens of university vice-chancellors leaving Gordon behind, even your local GP grossing over £200,000 a year when the practice is perfect. Benchmark Brown is bargain basement stuff – or would be if it reflected anything remotely real.

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One small step forward

An agreement by all 192 UN states on the financial crisis acknowledges our global interdependence

Last week, something unusual happened: the international community, coming together at the UN to discuss the global financial crisis and its impact on the developing world, reached a consensus on an agreement. This spelled out the issues to be addressed and laid out the way forward. Many had said it would be difficult for 192 countries to reach consensus, and that was why discussions should be limited to a self-selected group of 20. In fact, the UN agreement was stronger and more forceful than the G20 communique.

It also demonstrated why it was important to have an inclusive process: the G192 were willing to raise key issues that the internal politics of the G20 may have made too sensitive. For instance, while the G20 focused attention on the role of bank secrecy in tax evasion, the UN agreement highlights corruption.

The G20 recognised the need for a global response to the global downturn. But responses are framed at the national level, and often take insufficient account of the effect on others. As a result they have been too small and they are structured to maximise domestic impacts, not global ones. Moreover, developing countries do not have adequate resources for coping with the crisis. The G20 committed themselves to providing generous support, mostly through the IMF. But they did not take adequate note of the risk of poor countries undertaking more debt, and the reluctance of many to turn to the IMF for support – partly because of its history of demanding borrowers undertake counterproductive procyclical policies.

Participants at the UN conference emphasised the importance of more grant funding. The hundreds of billions (perhaps trillions) of dollars spent on bailing out the banks has put a new perspective on government expenditures. It makes claims that there are insufficient funds to finance development assistance ring hollow. But developing countries are constrained not just by a lack of money, but a lack of “policy space”. The meeting concluded that: “Countries must have the necessary flexibility to implement countercyclical measures and to pursue tailored and targeted responses to the crisis.”

One of the factors contributing to the crisis was longstanding global imbalances, and one of the sources of these was the dollar-based global reserve system. This contributes to an insufficiency of global aggregate demand, as countries divert purchasing power into precautionary savings – and such an insufficiency may impede the world’s ability to regain robust growth. While the UN meeting was not the occasion to devise a new system, it acknowledged calls for “further study of the feasibility and advisability of a more efficient reserve system”. Unsurprisingly, some countries with large dollar reserves were concerned about the current system, the low returns and high risk – increasing with America’s rising debt and the Federal Reserve’s ballooning balance sheet.

The UN meeting reinforced the need for reforms in the governance of the international economic institutions – some of which pushed policies of financial market and capital market liberalisation that were in part responsible for the crisis and its rapid spread. But it also delved into controversial issues of enormous importance to developing countries, such as migration.

The UN meeting reflected what is now a global consensus: “The current crisis has been compounded by an initial failure to appreciate the full scope of the risks accumulating in the financial markets and their potential to destabilise the international financial system and the global economy …” But discussion highlighted the shortfalls in the proposed regulatory reforms – for instance, the reluctance in some countries to do enough about the too-big-to-fail banks. While everyone talks about the need for transparency, some participants raised concern about changes in accounting in the US that have made matters worse.

Perhaps the most important conclusion was the most obvious: “The ongoing crisis has highlighted the extent to which our economies are integrated, the indivisibility of our collective well-being, and the unsustainability of a narrow focus on short-term gains.” We have allowed economic globalisation to outpace political globalisation – we do not have the institutions or the mindset to respond collectively in ways that advance the wellbeing of all. The UN meeting represented a small, but important, step forward.

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Hollywood’s Oscar shuffle

Upping the best picture shortlist from five to 10 is a sop to the studios. Art has nothing to do with it

So the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has changed its rules: this year there will be not five nominees for best picture, but 10. In making the change, they hark back to 1939, when there were 10 nominees in this category: Gone With the Wind (the winner); Dark Victory; Goodbye, Mr Chips; Love Affair; Mr Smith Goes to Washington; Ninotchka; Of Mice and Men; Stagecoach; The Wizard of Oz and Wuthering Heights. Sid Ganis, the eternally popular president of the academy, spreads out his hands and asks, wouldn’t it be nice to get back to that sort of quality? Indeed it would, and Ganis added that many people regretted that The Dark Knight (a very successful film) was not a nominee for best picture last year.

So let’s try to cut through the spin. The academy and the world have borne up bravely under the unpleasant truth that often our best films do not get nominated as best picture – here’s a quick 10: Rear Window, The Lady Eve, His Girl Friday, Psycho, Letter from an Unknown Woman, Some Like It Hot, The Shop Around the Corner, The Searchers, Blue Velvet, Laura. So nobody knows nothing – and everybody lives with it.

Now, there are real fears at the academy. The old guard of Hollywood – still called the studios, though that’s a weird term – is miffed that its pictures have had little recognition in recent years. Instead, the 6,000 or so academy members have been nominating American films made outside the mainstream – films that are called “independents”, though that word is now as tinny as “studios”. But the academy is running scared because fewer people watch the Oscars show if the nominated pictures are lightly supported by the public. In the year of No County for Old Men and There Will Be Blood, for instance, it was felt that the “best” pictures had been seen by very few people – and this slippage was measured in the viewing figures for Oscar night.

So Ganis reported that ABC (the network that has the Oscar night agreement with the academy) was very happy about doubling up the nominees – so long as it doesn’t mean 10 independent pictures. He should add that the academy depends for its year-round operations on the income from that one night. So it’s the academy that is most relieved, because if recent viewing trends persist it might have to fold or give up the idea that the Oscars are a vital part of the American experience.

We all know the truth – the awards are no longer central. The movie culture of 1939 was enormously different from the one that functions today. Any loyal filmgoer knows that the notion that “Hollywood” now can produce 10 pictures a year remotely deserving of “best” (except for best scam) is a travesty. The academy might just as well permit productions to buy their way into the Oscars – it will probably come to that one day. Meanwhile, the proposition that smaller, tougher, braver films may be the best we can do comes under increasing threat.

Ganis says he’s interested in art. But he is driven by commerce and money – he is, I should add, a delightful and entertaining man, and a friend to boot. But the boot is what this new scheme deserves and is bound to get. Why stop at 10? Why not have 10 nominees in every category? – the actors would like that, and may deserve it. Why not have 10 top songs? Why not nominate everyone in the end so there are no hurt feelings? Of course, the Oscar show – at that reckoning – may last three days, and I have sneaking suspicions that that is not what ABC is interested in. The real destiny of the Oscars show points another way – towards American Idol. In that case it may be all the easier to see, in time, that our best pictures have often got through life without a statuette.

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Bring on AC/DC, I say

It was the week before Christmas and, with each fresh Bacardi, an inelegant Glasgow wine bar was looking more sophisticated than Rick’s. And then the boy informed me I was to become a grandfather. Clive Dunn in a rocking chair began singing “Grandad” in my head and suddenly I felt too old for my surroundings.

After 23 years I felt I was just beginning to get accustomed to the responsibilities of fatherhood.

Becoming more sporadic now were the furious outbursts at Celtic’s defensive ineptitude and I was beginning, occasionally, to avoid the temptation of dancing like Kraftwerk after too many at social occasions.

I was even considering single-coloured suits at M&S. Sometimes I would find myself discussing holidays, schools, soft furnishings, the oeuvre of Alexander McCall Smith for God’s sake. And then the fat lady, or in this case old Clive, began to sing.

At 46, I felt I was too young to contemplate the idea of dandling my own grandchild and so I consoled myself that if I lived in Dundee I would most probably be a great grandfather by now. For years I had endured gentle agonies when people, on encountering my “craggy” features and discovering my age, struggled to contain their surprise that it was around a decade less than they had assumed.

Nor had it helped that my hair had been seeking an exit strategy from my scalp from the age of 25. Or that my wife always looks like she’s about to do an advert for L’Oréal.

By way of riposte I had to construct a witty and quick narrative along the lines of having had a tough paper round and to accompany it with a wry smile, all faux regret. Now, for the first time as an adult, people are saying I actually seem too young to be something. It is a new and giddy experience. I have been a grandfather for a week or so now (a girl, Orlaith, all well, thank you), but am having slightly to move the goalposts on looking at the world.

Do I get my name down for the bowling club up the road? What am I to do about the AC/DC tickets for this week’s show? The last time I saw this toxic rock’n'roll fusion of Caledonian aggression and antipodean insouciance I was someone else’s grandchild. I thrilled to a rhythm section that was truly infernal and which took me down a Highway to Hell with a bountiful lady called Rosie and paved with Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, all of them the dark imaginings of a lead singer called Bon who hailed from the Angus glens.

Now as I embark on my third age I must confront a new and terrifying dilemma. Just what does a grandfather wear at a rock concert?

In years to come, will young Orlaith appreciate the fact that barely two weeks after her birth her grandfather was to be seen in jeans and a Black Sabbath T-shirt singing “Whole Lotta Rosie” with half a bottle of Jack Daniel’s rattling around inside him?

I will indeed go to Hampden Park on Tuesday night and see the heroes of my adolescence. And in mitigation perhaps I will direct my granddaughter to the work of TS Eliot.

Perhaps it was for such as I and for an occasion such as this that his J Alfred Prufrock mused:

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky …

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Obama stumbling? The hell he is

On Iran, gay marriage and the economy, the president is taking flak. But critics ignore the profound changes he is delivering

It’s a handy rule of thumb in Washington: a president’s fortunes can be divined by the way the White House press corps treats him. Think of George W Bush. At the height of his powers in 2003, reporters jockeyed for his favour, which he expressed by bestowing nicknames and sharing wisecracks. By the time Iraq and Katrina had ruined his presidency, the same hacks competed to see who could most effectively humiliate the president before a live audience.

So it was an ominous sign for Barack Obama last week when he appeared in the White House for a press conference that was his most uncomfortable to date. Reporters who had thus far treated him with deference and even admiration treated him with something close to disrespect. Obama, as the New York Times put it, “has rarely experienced as combative and contentious an hour on live television as he did on Tuesday afternoon”. Had his response to Iran, one asked, been “timid and weak”? Another tweaked the president’s “Spock-like language” about healthcare reform. One even grilled an increasingly irritated president about his furtive smoking habits. The treatment left Obama a bit testy. “I got it,” he groused. “You’re pitching, I’m catching.”

Indeed he has been catching – catching flak, that is, from critics on left and right and over both his foreign and domestic agendas. As he approaches the six-month mark of his presidency, his job has become less glamorous and more gruelling. Allies in Congress are restive and for the first time, the whiff of failures and defeats is in the air. Thus the new tone from the White House press corps, which, like animals in the wild, preys on the weak. But don’t be fooled by this dark patch. Obama’s long-term prospects remain bright.

Start on the domestic front. Here, Obama faces two titanic challenges. The first is the economy. An unexpected spike in jobless claims announced last week doused hopes that the economic downturn had finally reached an inflection point. With unemployment now approaching 10%, higher than the administration had predicted, Republicans are rallying around the argument that Obama’s $787bn stimulus bill passed in February isn’t working and amounts to a massive, deficit-swelling waste. “With all the spending that’s gone on, where are the new jobs?” asked House Republican leader John Boehner. Lately, some of Boehner’s colleagues are even fantasising about riding such talk to retake the House of Representatives in the 2010 midterm elections. (The Senate is a steeper climb for Republicans.)

It’s true that if the economy fails to recover within the next year, no amount of hope and change can save Obama’s presidency. But those 2010 elections, the first real referendum on his performance, are still 16 months away. That leaves plenty of time for the economy to pick up steam. Moreover, polls show that most Americans still blame the economic doldrums on Bush. And while stimulus dollars have been frustratingly slow to be distributed, that will soon change, with the stimulative effect likely to kick in well before the midterms, dashing the hopes of many a Republican candidate.

Obama’s second domestic trial will be healthcare. Anyone who recalls Bill and Hillary Clinton’s attempt to cover America’s 40-plus million uninsured citizens in 1994 understands that, if mishandled, the issue can cripple a presidency. Congress is beginning to craft a healthcare plan with Obama’s guidance and the early going hasn’t been pretty. Proposals have carried eye-popping price tags ($1.6 trillion, according to one preliminary estimate by a Senate finance committee), while covering a disappointingly small number of Americans. Nor have the Democrats quite settled on how they will pay for a massive expansion of care. Last week, a prominent House Democrat pronounced that “healthcare reform is on life support”.

Don’t be surprised if Obama resuscitates it. Although many Democrats are nervous about his plan’s cost, it remains quite popular with the voters to whom those Democrats answer. Moreover, Republicans and business lobbies have been slow to organise against Obama’s plan or present credible options, something GOP strategists call crucial to victory. As for the money, it can always be found (deficits can be tackled another day) and the plan’s ambitions can be reduced if necessary. As White House chief of staff Rahm Emanuel has said about healthcare: “The only thing non-negotiable is success.” And the current Democratic majorities in Congress are large enough that Emanuel will not have to eat his words.

Obama is tiptoeing around other domestic land mines. The only thing that makes his congressional Democratic allies more nervous than supporting sweeping and expensive healthcare reform is the grand climate-change plan, passed by the House on Friday. However urgent it may be to fight global warming, public support for environmentalism drops dramatically in times of economic distress. But look for Obama to settle for a modest plan – a symbolic victory – rather than accept a stark political defeat. He can return to climate if need be. That may upset liberals, who are already fuming at him for not doing more to support gay marriage or the prosecution of people who authorised torture in the Bush era. But when push comes to shove, will such critics abandon Obama? Not likely.

Foreign policy is harder to predict and Obama is still learning on the job. Take the recent uprising in Iran. Obama first said little to encourage the protesters, then strongly condemned the regime. It was undeniably an uncertain response, hence the “timid and weak” charge. On the bright side, the world has witnessed the brutal face of the regime, which should make it easier for Obama to win tough international sanctions in the (likely) case that planned diplomatic attempts to talk Iran out of a nuclear bomb go nowhere.

Then there are Afghanistan and Pakistan. Thus far, Obama has been in crisis-management mode, trying to keep the government in Islamabad from falling apart and firing his top general in Afghanistan for poor management of the war effort there. But conditions may soon improve in both countries; the Pakistani military is finally cracking down on Islamic radicals. Meanwhile, Obama has ordered 21,000 more American troops to Afghanistan. But many analysts think that, much like the Iraq surge, the fight against the Taliban is eminently winnable if there are enough troops and the right counterinsurgency strategy is adopted.

So imagine, then a possible world of June 1 2010. The economy has rebounded and Obama, citing his stimulus package, is claiming the credit. A major (if not perfect) healthcare reform bill has passed, handing Obama a historical policy achievement in his first year. Iran is being squeezed hard by a disgusted international community, led forcefully by Obama, perhaps prompting a new reformist uprising against the clerics. The Taliban are at last on the run in Pakistan and Afghanistan. And, oh, by the way, the US is substantially pulling out of Iraq.

It will take luck – and more than a little political skill – for Obama to achieve such stellar results. But he’s never wanted for either. It will also take something else, however: the firm support of his fellow Democrats. There are signs that some in Obama’s party have studied the polls and the economic figures and may be wondering whether their self-interest may soon diverge from that of the president. But in fact, the Democrats’ fate is inextricably tied to Obama’s success.

Without him, the party is not particularly popular. These nervous Democrats should remember that moving an agenda as big as Obama’s was never going to be easy. But that even in difficult moments like these, his popularity remains durable and his prospects for success are better than they may appear. Perhaps Obama should propose a new motto for his party: Together we stand, divided we fall.

• Michael Crowley is a senior editor of the New Republic Magazine

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