Show us the money - Prospect Magazine
Transcription
Show us the money - Prospect Magazine
Vote for World Thinker of 2013: p20 issue 205 | april 2013 www.prospect-magazine.co.uk april 2013 | £4.50 Show us the money What I’ve told Cameron about tax dodgers show us the money paul collier Plus Does Eastern Europe still exist? Anne Applebaum Apes and atheists AC Grayling If I ruled... michael morpurgo Racist bargain of the New Deal John kay Oh brother! Jeb for President? Diane roberts Exclusive: records of UK’s Middle East role bronwen maddox Think Tank Awards—Enter Now 3 prospect april 2013 Foreword 2 Bloomsbury Place, London wc1a 2qa Publishing 020 7255 1281 Editorial 020 7255 1344 Fax 020 7255 1279 Email [email protected] [email protected] Website www.prospectmagazine.co.uk Editorial Editor and chief executive Bronwen Maddox Editor at large David Goodhart Deputy editor James Elwes Books editor David Wolf Creative director David Killen Production editor Jessica Abrahams Online editor Daniel Cohen Editorial assistant Matt Lewis, Lucy Snow Publishing President & co-founder Derek Coombs Commercial director Alex Stevenson Publishing consultant David Hanger Circulation marketing director Yvonne Dwerryhouse Digital marketing: Tim De La Salle Director of sales Iain Adams 020 7255 1934 Advertising sales manager Dan Jefferson 020 7255 1934 Head of partnerships and events Adam Bowie 020 7255 1934 Finance manager Pauline Joy Editorial advisory board David Cannadine, Clive Cowdery, AC Grayling, Peter Hall, John Kay, Peter Kellner, Nader Mousavizadeh, Toby Mundy, Robin Niblett, Jean Seaton Associate editors Hephzibah Anderson, Tom Chatfield, James Crabtree, Andy Davis, Edward Docx, David Edmonds, Sam Knight, Ian Irvine, Sam Leith, Emran Mian, Elizabeth Pisani, Wendell Steavenson, James Woodall Contributing editors Philip Ball, Anthony Dworkin, Josef Joffe, Anatole Kaletsky, Michael Lind, Joy Lo Dico, Erik Tarloff Annual subscription rates UK £49; Student £27 Europe £55; Student £32.50 Rest of the World £59.50; Student £35 Prospect Subscriptions, 800 Guillat Avenue, Kent Science Park, Sittingbourne, me9 8gu Tel 0844 249 0486; 44(0)1795 414 957 Fax 01795 414 555 Email [email protected] Website www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/subscribe Cheques payable to Prospect Publishing Ltd. Subscription refunds must be made in writing to Prospect within four weeks of a new order or renewal, and are subject to an administration charge of £15. No refunds are paid on quarterly subscriptions. The views represented in this magazine are not necessarily those of Prospect Publishing Ltd. Best endeavours have been taken in all cases to represent faithfully the views of all contributors and interviewees. The publisher accepts no responsibility for errors, omissions or the consequences thereof. Newstrade distribution Seymour Distribution Ltd 2 East Poultry Avenue, London, EC1A 9PT Tel: 020 7429 4000 Images Cover image: Prospect Cartoons by: Tim Bales, Len, Kes, PC Vey, Jonesy, Gareth Cowlin, Birch Additional design: Mike Kenny, Jenny Owens ISSN: 13595024 Tax attacks David Cameron has made clear that cracking down on “tax dodgers” will be a big theme of this year. He kicked it off with a showy speech in the snows of Davos in January. He has one good chance to make progress this summer, when Britain hosts the leaders of the G8, the group of (self-defined) economic powers. The trouble is that his remarks don’t suggest he knows how to do it—or is prepared to take the steps he should. He should read Paul Collier (p26). Very likely, in a sense, he already has; in his Davos speech, he complimented the economist by name for his work on curbing tax avoidance, and Collier is also advising the government on the G8 agenda, although he writes here in a personal capacity. But Collier has done here what Cameron has not, at least in public: spelled out the steps that might recoup some of an estimated $21 trillion of global potential tax revenues. Britain is in a strong position, given that many lawyers and banks that help to set up offshore companies are in London. There is little incentive for Britain to act on its own as companies, or their profits, would slither to other domains. But it should apply leverage on the others to act. The G8 should change the tax codes to make these manoeuvres illegal. But Cameron is shying away from this point; on his recent Indian trip, he said that he would not change the law. What, then, is he relying on to oblige companies and people to pay more tax? If the answer is only public condemnation of those felt not to pay an undefined “fair share,” that would be regrettable. In civilised countries, the payment of tax is one of the central bargains between people and government. When many countries are struggling to pay down deficits, it is inevitable and right that governments look everywhere for more revenue. At the same time, the terms of that bargain need to be clear. Companies have a legal obligation to shareholders to do what they can within the law to maximise profit. Individuals have a right to be confident that if they have observed the law, they have discharged their legal obligations to the Revenue. That does not represent all their obligations to society, of course, but they are entitled to know where the legal obligation ends and the moral one begins. That is one reason why Peter Kellner’s polls (p33) are disturbing. People, it seems, condemn much more strongly the legal avoidance of tax by big companies and rich individuals than they do the breaking of the law, on a small scale, by people not so well off. A sense of fairness underpins that reaction, of course. But the lack of interest in the legal boundaries is unhealthy, and encourages a nasty sense that the court of public opinion is always right. Cameron should change the law to tighten the loopholes that Collier clearly describes. To rely instead on people to pillory those companies or individuals who transgress an invisible line is not good for the country, and not just because it jeopardises the foreign investment that Britain needs. Anything else is an evasion of the responsibilities of his own job. 5 prospect april 2013 Contents April 2013 Features This month 6If I ruled the world michael morpurgo 8Recommends 10Letters plus stephen collins’s cartoon strip. Opinions 12Fear itself: Roots of US conflict john kay 13Cameron’s mistake on working hours katinka barysch 26It’s time to tackle the tax dodgers paul collier plus How dodgy are we? peter kellner 36Does Eastern Europe still exist? East beats west. anne applebaum Life 64Teenage myths Does adolescence exist? lucy maddox 65Leith on life My fear of dental hygienists. sam leith 66Matters of taste Eggs are not just for Easter. wendell steavenson 42Apes and atheists Are animals moral beings? ac grayling Enter the 2013 Think Tank Awards 14More than Scottish douglas alexander 16Lawyers without degrees dominic raab 16Here comes Jeb diane roberts 18Pistorius on the precipice justice malala 68Wine Where is the “new world”? barry smith World thinkers 2013 20Who are the world’s top thinkers? Vote for your favourites. 46George of Arabia Exclusive: disclosure of records An MP’s colourful tour. bronwen maddox Science 54Delusions of a “besotted technophile” Will we build conscious computers? raymond tallis 55The month ahead anjana ahuja 50Russians once lived here The country is drinking itself empty. oliver bullough Arts & books 70Europe’s 500 year war The bloody struggle for supremacy. josef joffe 74The elusive JM Coetzee Unravelling his strange new novel. ruth franklin 76Art’s last revolution How Pop won. jason farago 78Katie Mitchell: a director at war Britain’s introverted theatre. james woodall 79The month in books rose jacobs Fiction 80The Infatuations javier marÍas Special report: UK energy 57Stumbling towards a crisis dieter helm 62Is solar still worth it? andy davis The Endgames 84The generalist didymus 84Enigmas & puzzles ian stewart 86The Prospect List Our pick of events. 88The way we were Abdications. ian irvine App If you’re a subscriber, get our app FREE at www. prospectmagazine.co.uk/apps. If you’re not, you can buy single issues, a subscription or back issues. Download the app at the Appstore or Android Store—search for “Prospect Magazine.” Applestore Android Store 6 prospect april 2013 If I ruled the world Michael Morpurgo If I were God I’d wipe you all out. W hat do you mean, if? I do rule the world. For goodness sake, I was the one who thought the whole creation thing up in the first place. Don’t you people understand anything? Clearly not. That was the big mistake I made, of course, you lot, people. The world without you would have been just fine, but I had to go and set you up as the species who would look after the world for me, the way I wanted it looked after. Silly me. I gave you intelligence. I gave you free choice, of a kind anyway. I made you in my own image too. What was I thinking of? Sheer hubris. I admit it, I got it wrong the first time. But being God has its advantages. If I want a second chance, I have a second chance. And this time, believe me, I shall do it right. Write to Prospect magazine, I thought, tell them what’s coming, warn them, just so they know it’s God that rules. A bit of history might be helpful first, since most of you don’t know any, and those who do may not believe it. As some of you might know, I tried flooding before—big time—but when I look back, I left it too late. There were simply too many Noahs down there, already too clever by half, too many boatbuilders, too many arks. Which is why the floods didn’t achieve what I really wanted. My idea was to wipe out mankind and womankind almost entirely, but not quite, so that never again could you could set yourselves up as tyrants over the rest of the earth, my earth. Never again could you think of yourselves as gods. Never again could you inflict the horror and suffering of war on the world. You weren’t made like that, you became like that. But I messed up. I wasn’t ruthless enough. This time I’ll minimise humanity, make you so scarce you hardly count. And I shall choose my Noah better. I will make sure that the new Noah and his kind will be wise and generous-hearted, not manipulative, arrogant, selfish, warlike and greedy. For them the party’s over. You can tell them that from me. So it’s wipeout time again, people. This time, my plan is foolproof. A sudden ice age is all I need to do the job. Mankind, arrogant as ever, will of course think he’s brought it on himself, which I suppose he will have, in a way. As God I shall simply be hurrying up the whole process of your so richly deserved destruction. I shall encircle the globe in a freezing shroud of ice and snow. Those creatures I want to survive will survive, I’ll make sure of it. But this time round, both man and mosquito will be strictly limited—yes, alright, I admit it, the mosquito was a mistake too. It will no doubt surprise some readers of this august magazine to learn that, as God, I am both a creationist and evolutionist. I mean, think about it. Who do you suppose pointed Charles Darwin in the right direction in the first place. Accident? No, God-given evolution. (My miscalculation was not to have provided more Darwins and Mozarts and Shakespeares). Of course it’s all about natural selection, but I do the selecting. So back to the Big Freeze. It will last a few decades, a century maybe, during which time the earth will have cleansed itself sufficiently—it’s quite capable of that, I got that bit right—and a renewed and better world can begin. And those of you that do survive, the very few—not the happy few necessarily, rather the thoughtful few—will have learnt the lesson, that you have to share what has been provided for you, live in harmony with one another and with your fellow creatures, and nurture the world about you. This time, I’ll get it right. Of course you could avoid the whole unpleasant and rather chilling experience; you could put things right yourselves. You could abandon all war and oppression. Simply ban it. It’s easily done. There’s a wonderful anthem I hear you sing in Europe sometimes—and when it comes to wars, you Europeans have been the worst of all, by the way—about how all peoples of all nations are brothers and sisters, all part of the same family. Great tune, great words. But, for God’s sake, don’t just sing it! Join hands across the seas across the nations, yes, and across the religions too, and learn to live in peace and freedom. I doubt you will though. I have rather lost faith in you, just as so many of you have lost faith in me. But it’s not too late, never too late. Michael Morpurgo, author of “War Horse,” is an award-winning novelist and playwright, and a former Children’s Laureate. (1*,1((5,1*%5,7$,1·6)8785( 2XUSHRSOHDUHHYHU\WKLQJ $JXVWD:HVWODQGSURYLGHVRXUDUPHGIRUFHVZLWKZRUOGOHDGLQJPLOLWDU\FDSDELOLW\ 2XUHQJLQHHUVDSSUHQWLFHVDQGVXSSO\FKDLQRI8.60(·VZLOO GHVLJQGHYHORSDQGEXLOGWKH8.·VRQO\FRPSOHWHFLYLODLUFUDIWWRFRPSHWHIRU8. 6HDUFKDQG5HVFXHDQGWKHJOREDOH[SRUWPDUNHW /($',1*7+()8785( DJXVWDZHVWODQGFRP 3URVSHFW(%) 8 prospect april 2013 Prospect recommends Five things to do this month 18th-century silk designer Anna Maria Garthwaite. Coinciding with the 250th anniversary of her death this year, the programme includes talks about her life and her distinctive, intricate brocades. The festival also showcases the landmarks of Huguenot London, among them Hawksmoor’s magnificent Christ Church, completed in 1729, and a sumptuously restored silk-weavers’ house, where guided tours are conducted in silence. Some of the buildings tell a larger story about the East End, such as 19 Princelet Street: built for French weavers, it later housed a concealed synagogue and is now a museum of immigration. Dance The Rite of Spring/Petrushka Sadler’s Wells, 11th to 13th April Few pieces of music have been such a recurring inspiration as Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring. A century old this year, the work is as youthful as ever, constantly refreshed as it is by choreographers seeking to interpret its enigmatic myth, from Vaslav Nijinsky to Pina Bausch. Michael Keegan-Dolan’s dance company unveiled their own version in 2009. Transferring it specifically to Ireland, it divided critics like a guillotine. Now revived as the first work in a series of three events entitled “A String of Rites” commissioned by Sadler’s Wells to mark the centenary of Stravinsky’s masterpiece, its radical reworking of the sacrificial myth is ripe for reassessment. In spite of the liberties that Keegan-Dolan takes with the story —bringing it out of prehistory into a modern age of cigarettes and flat caps, shifting the gender focus and reversing the polarity of the ending—it digs deep into Stravinsky’s extraordinary music to read the truth in its entrails. This production includes dancers in animal masks and men removing their clothes to put on dresses before a deity known as The Chosen One. It all adds up to an intense and absorbing blast of theatrical voodoo. Neil Norman Getting the Rite right: Stravinsky’s groundbreaking work turns 100 Mohamed Bourouissa’s photographic series Périphérique. Some works take Birmingham, the UK’s second largest city, as their subject—Christiane Baumgartner’s diptych Ladywood, using video and woodcut, which was inspired by reflections of a railway bridge onto the canal, and Beat Streuli’s 2001 Pallasades, video of passing crowds. There is a strong emphasis on photography and film, perhaps because these forms are particularly adapted to the fleeting, elusive life of cities, where significant events can erupt in moments and innumerable human interactions take place daily against a backdrop of mute architecture. South Bank mini-institution in its own right. The programme opens with a play by Tanya Ronder, directed by her husband Rufus Norris, which declares itself in one simple sentence: “Six generations, nine performers, 30 characters and one very special piece of furniture.” As those performers include the top talent of Rosalie Craig and Paul Hilton, and as the show is designed and lit by Katrina Lindsay and Paule Constable, there’s no hint of the project being a mere sop or “add-on” to the NT’s core repertoire. Like any good shed-owner, artistic director Nicholas Hytner must be hoping for a result. Emma Crichton-Miller Michael Coveney Art Theatre Festival Metropolis: Reflections on the Modern City Gas Hall, Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery, from 23rd March In 2008, for the first time, more of the world’s population lived in urban than rural areas. By 2050, 70 per cent of us will live in cities. Most young artists already do. “Metropolis: Reflections on the Modern City” presents 60 works in different media, by over 25 contemporary international artists, inspired by the urban experience. Created in recent years, these works span the globe, from a frantic Beijing (in Miao Xiaochun’s monumental photographic work Orbit) to the marginal Paris of Table The Shed, National Theatre, from 9th April Every home should have a shed, somewhere to store things that might be useful later, somewhere to mess about and experiment. Such is the philosophy behind the red, box-like structure arising in front of the National Theatre on the South Bank this spring. The Shed is a short-term replacement for the Cottesloe, the NT’s third auditorium, which is closed for redevelopment until this time next year. New, semi-improvised spaces have a habit, though, of sticking around longer than intended, and it’s quite possible the Shed will become a Huguenots of Spitalfields Various venues, 8th to 21st April This festival, celebrating the legacy of Huguenots in London, was inspired by a modern bronze sculpture which stood in Spital Square until April 2012. It was a monument to the work of Huguenot silk weavers, French protestants who in the 17th century sought refuge in Britain from religious persecution. To raise funds for a permanent memorial, the Huguenot Society and the Spitalfields Trust have collaborated on this fortnight of talks, historic walks and exhibitions, as well as a huge craft fair on 13th April. At the centre of events is the Laura Marsh Film The Place Beyond the Pines On release from 12th April It opens with a swaggeringly audacious sequence: the camera pulls out from Ryan Gosling’s tattooed torso as he pulls on a leather jacket. It follows him, in one unbroken shot, as he saunters through a fairground into a circus tent, bestrides a motorbike and roars into a caged globe where he and two others perform crazy, literally over-thetop stunts, round and round. The crowd screams: so much testosterone in a tinny microcosm. This is radical—melodrama for men. Director Derek Cianfrance uses revved-up action and close, gorgeous digital photography to tell the story of two young fathers, Gosling’s stunt biker and Bradley Cooper’s obsessive cop. The plot is heavy on coincidence but then the film is structured in triptych form, with portraits of the two (who intersect briefly) followed by a third section featuring their sons as they reach maturity. Gosling’s elegant vulnerability contrasts with Cooper’s muscular nerviness as both struggle to escape destructive patterns and be good (manly) men. There are clichés—the women for example are confined to tears or pleas—yet the characters retain dignity and individuality. This is a heightened emotional ride with irresistible moments of heartpounding tension. Francine Stock 10 prospect april 2013 Letters Shades of blue What an honour for our book to be reviewed by the eminent Roger Scruton (“Postmodern Tories,” March). But what a disappointment his argument is based on prejudices about Tory modernisers, rather than the actual content. It is odd to criticise modernisers for wanting to improve the perception of the Tories: the primary purpose of a political party, after all, is to get elected. But this is not the book’s only objective, despite Scruton’s accusation that we lack appreciation and conviction for Conservatism. British Conservatism derives from several philosophies. Scruton narrowly emphasises preservation: Conservatism is much richer than this. We need not solely be reactionaries. The book actually draws on Conservative insights about the importance of markets, relationships and ownership for maintaining a free and prosperous society as social composition and norms evolve. Pity Scruton had nothing to say about these detailed policies. Ryan Shorthouse Director, Bright Blue The problem for Scruton, and all “Conservatives,” is that the Tory party is primarily about money —it was hijacked by neoliberal economists in Thatcher’s day and became, de facto, a postmodern party of the City. True, there are still old (and quite a few young) fogies prancing in from the shires but, by and large, money in the Tory party trumps conserving. It is a party of monied philistines who, in the main, care only about money and for whom the environment, the arts and abroad (unless it can be exploited) do not mean a thing. John Ellis, Prospect website Crow and Cuba Bob Crow almost had me (“If I ruled the world,” March). I kept nodding my head to most of his suggestions. That was until he mentioned that his model for ruling the world was my country of origin, Cuba. Even allowing for the rose-tinted glasses he must have been wearing when he sat down to write, he must have noticed the disparity between his dreams and the harsh reality. He wouldn’t be able to bring back the concept of public meetings, because public meetings not approved by the Communist Party are banned. He wouldn’t be able to restore local democracy because that word is anathema to the government that has reigned unchallenged for more than 50 years. He wouldn’t be able to cut through “the army of pundits, opinionformers and self-appointed experts” because they are the backbone of the Cuban state and they all sing from the same hymnsheet held very firmly by the Castro brothers. Lastly, as a trade unionist in Cuba, Crow would have just one of the following choices: toe the party line and forget about the workers, grass his own comrades up in order to keep up his status or be critical of the government when necessary and face up to the consequences, including jail. Mario López-Goicoechea, London Green challenge Sam Knight has drawn attention to a darker side to our long-term future (“The thin green line,” March). Climate change is the greatest threat humanity has ever faced and I am glad that Prospect has debated the options available. I must, however, take issue with your editor’s comment that, “I, for one, have more confidence than he does in people’s ability to devise technology to tackle the problem.” There is no argument that technol- ogy has greatly enhanced the fuel efficiency of cars and there are many other examples. But emissions are continuing to increase. There are two reasons: an increase in population and affluence. So technology will have to achieve far more than it has done. Can it achieve more than the population growth multiplied by the renminbis in Chinese pockets? I doubt it. Robin Sellwood, Truro Inside Israel If Henry Siegman is an expert on the Middle East (“Last chance for a two-state solution?” February), it explains a lot about the chasm of misunderstanding that exists. As a left-wing Israeli citizen who has never voted for Netanyahu and thinks that his current policy of expanding settlements is sheer folly, I still take issue with Siegman on the entire slant of his article. The biggest underlying obstacle to peace today is rooted in the generations educated to hate —just look at the textbooks and summer camps of the West Bank and Gaza. Israel in this respect has undergone a sea change and there is a majority that will accept a two-state solution. Netanyahu has been re-elected with a much Cursive letters Philip Ball’s article on joined-up handwriting provoked a huge response. Here is a selection of letters—see more online. The article took me back to primary schooldays, 60 years ago, when the requirement to transfer from printing to the cursive form became the bane of my youth . Until I was eight I had written, contentedly, in neat print. Then at junior school I was told I must write like a “grown-up.” Alas I could not then or now use cursive writing satisfactorily. The result was many unhappy hours both in the classroom and at home. I was forced by one teacher to write over and over again the Lord’s Prayer and the 23rd Psalm—at least I have never had trouble remembering the words! However each poor attempt brought recriminations and sometimes physical punishment. At home my father just muttered about “bad workmen blaming their tools!” This process caused reduced majority and the people’s rejection of the extremists among the settlers is very clear. My decision to write was prompted by the statement that Israel is on a “certain road to apartheid.” The term “apartheid,” like “Holocaust,” has become common currency without regard to its accuracy or meaning. I invite Siegman to visit my local mall in Mevasseret, just outside Jerusalem, where Jewish and Arab Israelis mingle in equal proportion. We shop, eat, exercise side by side; we use the same washrooms; some of the security guards are Arab Israelis from Abu Ghosh, just down the road, which is also frequented by Jewish Israelis enjoying the restaurants. (On the other hand, Jewish Israelis venturing or straying into a Palestinian area in the West Bank have to be rescued by the security forces...) The situation is far more nuanced than Siegman and other observers from the outside seem to grasp. Jill Harish, Israel Mandela the actor It is worth remembering that Nelson Mandela’s political approach was always governed first and fore- 11 Letters prospect april 2013 more unhappiness than anything I recall from my childhood. It was a relief in my first job to be told to write as I pleased—I happily went back to a half-print mode, which I use to this day. Peter Maddox, Swansea There’s little sadder than college graduates being unable to produce anything more with pen and paper than what appears to be the printing of a first grade student. A truly educated person should be capable of producing more than infantile block letters, which are taught to the very young so they might learn the alphabet and develop fine motor skills. Such training is not meant primarily to teach writing any more than using a keyboard teaches handwriting. Cursive writing demands that the writer take the time to produce legible characters. If one must produce a printed document in a hurry, then use a keyboard. Louis Candell, Prospect website Children learn to read “typed” script in books. This is really a most by consummate opportunism (“Latter day saint,” April). He was a talented actor, able to adapt his image to suit his audience and message. In fact—and here I differ from Justice Malala—it was only during the Defiance Campaign in the 1950s that Mandela publicly expressed support for non-cooperation in the Gandhian mould, and even so he wrestled with a more racially-specific Africanist politics. In the early 1960s his pacifist tendencies were rapidly superseded with the move to armed struggle. Elleke Boehmer, professor of English, University of Oxford Cold rationality I truly shuddered at the thought of Peter Singer, the “moral” philosopher, ruling the world (“If I ruled the world,” February). A world ruled by a man of such cold, specious rationality would be a dark place indeed. His advocacy of euthanasia for new-born disabled babies if their parents calculate that their lives are not worth living and his insistence that rationality, autonomy and self-consciousness are the prerequisites to be defined as a human, are chilling concepts. Still where there are losers, there are always winners. third form of writing, and there is a good argument for being fluent in print, cursive and typed. We could skip basic print, and instead teach young children to write cursive letters but not to join them (they lack the co-ordination). But we should teach cursive; people’s handwriting evolves into something that suits them, which is usually a combination of both. Elle Martini, Prospect website I reject the notion that teaching children to write in two different forms creates unnecessary challenges. I learnt to write cursive in third grade. The fact that the letters look so much like the same letters in manuscript meant that it wasn’t difficult to pick up at all. I was frustrated that we were asked to repeat writing the same letter so many times when once or twice would have sufficed. We should not treat children like fragile dolls. They can handle a lot more than adults give them credit for. Even learning to write in two different ways. Stephanie Rojas, Prospect website The baa-lambs and pussycats that he values so much more than the lower ranks of humanoid would have a lovely life. Simon Jarrett, Middlesex Sepia-tinted schools It was no surprise to see Toby Young’s response to your YouGov poll on schools’ performance (“Letters,” March), but I’ll bet he didn’t expect to find his retrograde views so sepia-tinted by all the other articles in your March issue. The children in his school are going to live to 100, their leaders focused not on social progress but tribal politics, in a world dominated by climate change, cultural mixing and regional conflict. I would hazard a guess they will not find in-depth knowledge of 20th-century British war leaders particularly useful, and that the grounding in Latin and rote-learned hand-based calculation he offers his rows of compliant young charges will leave them at a distinct disadvantage to those with modern languages, skills in applied mathematics and a creative spark. In fact The act of stretching and yawning simultaneously is called “pandiculation.” Oxford English Dictionary If corporations founded by Stanford alumni were to form an independent nation, it would be the 10th largest economy in the world, with an annual revenue of $2.7 trillion, as professors at that university recently calculated. London Review of Books, 7th February 2013 Daylight Saving Time was suggested as a joke by Benjamin Franklin, who proposed waking people earlier on bright summer mornings so they might work more during the day and thus save candles. Discover, 12th March 2009 Cooking lessons at UK schools will become compulsory for children aged seven to 14 from September, as the government aims to ensure they can make up to 20 dishes before taking their GCSE exams. Sunday Times, 11th February 2013 In 1835, for the first and only time in history, the US had no national debt. Network World, 8th January 2013 Three of Fidel Castro’s sons, Alexis, Alexander and Alejandro, are named after Alexander the Great QI, 1st November 2012 Sneezing, searching for a tissue and nose blowing are responsible for 2,500 car accidents a week in winter. On the motorway, drivers can travel 50ft with their eyes closed while sneezing. Daily Mail, 15th February 2013 Ben Gibbs, Ely Have your say: Email letters@ prospect-magazine.co.uk. More at: www.prospectmagazine.co.uk “Life just flashes by, doesn’t it?” 12 prospect april 2013 Opinions Bitter legacy of the New Deal 12 Time for Cameron to win in Europe 13 A Scottish parent 14 Legal lives 16 Bush number three? 16 South Africa’s precipice 18 John Kay A history of division Fear Itself: The New Deal and the Origins of our Time by Ira Katznelson (WW Norton, £22) The presidency of Franklin Roosevelt secured the survival of lightly regulated capitalism and liberal democracy, not just in the United States, but in Western Europe and other parts of the world. In this sense, the New Deal does represent, as the subtitle of Ira Katznelson’s new book proposes, the origins of our time. But this is a familiar theme, perhaps the most rehearsed in modern American political history. What has this new and lengthy book to add? Katznelson, a distinguished scholar and professor at Columbia, writes elegantly and his book easily repays the reader’s attention despite the familiarity of the basic narrative. But Katznelson’s particular interpretation of these events emphasises the ethical compromises essential to the achievement of Roosevelt’s goals—and makes the claim that these compromises framed the idiosyncratic state of American politics today. The most important ethical compromises were the accommodation with other totalitarian regimes needed to achieve the defeat of the most immediately threatening totalitarianisms, in Germany and Japan, and the willingness of northern liberal economic reformers to make congressional alliance with racist Southern Democrats. At Tehran, Yalta and Potsdam, Roosevelt, Truman and Churchill went beyond any simple alliance of convenience with Stalin. While this is familiar, the story of the Roosevelt administration’s flirtation with Mussolini’s fascism—more benign, often ludicrous, yet also ultimately sinister—makes entertaining reading. But much of Katznelson’s analyA gun control campaigner, left, is confronted by a member of the Natioal Rifle Association sis is concerned with the political influence of the south. He drives home again and again the extent to which the passage of New Deal measures through Congress was dependent on the support of representatives and senators from the southern states, many of them virulent racists whose tone and words sound worse than loathsome to modern ears. If the price of the New Deal was the continuation of lynching in Louisiana, then that was the price that was paid. Perhaps politics is the art of compromise; but should there be limits to compromise? Katznelson postpones that central question for 500 pages, then deals with it fleetingly with a reference to Israeli philosopher Avishai Margalit’s distinction between compromises and rotten compromises. Rotten compromises, Margalit argues, are those that create or sustain an inhuman regime: Margalit believes that America’s second world war alliance with Russia was, in these terms, admissible but the population transfers agreed at Yalta were not. This discrimination between these two compromises seems to owe more to utilitarianism and hindsight than a clear moral line, and leaves unanswered the genuine dilemmas faced by Roosevelt and his associates: should they have contemplated the collapse of American society and economy, or allowed Nazi control of Europe, in order to avoid repugnant associations with southern racism and Soviet communism? There is another distinction which Katznelson acknowledges, although also briefly. Compromise between people who recognise legitimacy in alternative points of view is not the same as compromise which reflects only realities of force and power. A compromise between partners on where to dine out differs from a compromise with a mugger who may be appeased by the contents of your wallet. Compromises of the first kind are necessary because of different interpretations of a shared goal, and predicated on an underlying belief in a common interest. Com- © reuters Is compromise impossible in American politics? promises of the second kind represent only an accommodation of conflicting individual interests. Roosevelt’s compromises with the south and the Soviet Union were evidently compromises of the latter kind. And American politics today seems to operate in such a way that compromises between Republicans and Democrats, and between president and Congress, will also represent the accommodation of inconsistent demands rather than an agreement on the means of pursuit of shared objectives. Katznelson is surely right to see the dysfunctionality of modern American politics as the result of the absence of any agreed sense of a common good on domestic issues. America’s debate over abortion pits two groups shouting “right to life” and “right to choose” 13 opinions prospect april 2013 against each other, while Europe’s mediated politics has mostly reached some messy and ill-theorised consensus. European states easily reach consensus on healthcare and gun control; the United States cannot. And the repeated congressional standoffs over fiscal policy reflect the difficulties of finding compromise when different sides perceive no legitimacy in the position of the other while none enjoys sufficient formal power to enforce its will. But is this aspect of American exceptionalism really a legacy of the New Deal? Was that era “the origin of our times” in this sense? Tainted compromises with southern interests were hardly new to American politics in the 1930s: the issue had been central to American politics since the time of the founding fathers. The system of checks and balances they put in place required endless compromise and restricted the capacity of the executive to develop, or pursue, any single conception of the common good. Given the debased concept of public interest which characterised the totalitarian regimes America defeated, that may have been no bad thing. But a system of checks and balances in which no concessions are made to the legitimacy of other views may easily end— as today—in gridlock and sequestration. Katznelson’s analysis is another reminder for readers outside the US of how much the special character of American politics reflects the direct and indirect influence of its history of slavery and segregation. John Kay is an economist and author Katinka Barysch The EU battle Cameron can win The working time directive is ripe for change In his big European speech on 23rd January, David Cameron said he wanted radical reform of the European Union or, failing that, a series of unilateral opt-outs. The only piece of EU legislation that Cameron singled out for review in his speech was the working time directive. This directive has become the bugbear of many eurosceptics. They use it to highlight how the EU is meddling in social policy and other areas that should be left to the nation state and how EU regulation is strangling the UK’s otherwise liberal economy. The working time directive is flawed in many ways. But its impact on the wider economy is marginal. It is not a reason to leave the EU. The directive was part of a bunch of social rules and health and safety standards that the EU adopted in the early 1990s, to sweeten European market liberalisation for workers and trade unions. Britain implemented the directive only in 1998, after Tony Blair gave up Britain’s opt-out from what was then called the social chapter. However, Britain immediately used the opt-out clause. This means that British workers and their bosses can agree to disregard one of the directive’s core rules, namely that an average working week should not exceed 48 hours. Most British workers are bound by the directive’s other rules, for example that workers should have a day off each week and four weeks annual leave. Around 6m British workers gained another week of paid holiday as a result. Initially, Britain was the only country to use the opt-out. Then the European Court of Justice, in the Simap and Jaeger rulings of 2000 and 2003, declared that on-call time that doctors, carers and fire-fighters spend at their workplace counts as working time, even if they are asleep. Many EU countries did not like this strict interpretation. And so 15 of them have opt-outs, mainly for their health sector. What is more, some EU countries implement the working time directive poorly. The European Commission admits that there “The Oscars of the Think Tank World” BBC RADIO 4 Think Tank of the Year Awards 2013 Entries now open—closing date 17th May Winners announced on 25th June at the Royal Society UK categories: Think Tank of the Year, Publication of the Year, One to Watch, International Affairs, Social Policy, Energy and the Environment, Economic & Financial Policy. Global categories: Global Think Tank of the Year, North American Think Tank of the Year, and European (non-UK) Think Tank of the Year Entry forms available at www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/thinktankawards For more information, contact [email protected] Supported by 14 are infringements in 22 out of the 27 EU countries. Unions are furious that the Commission has never taken an EU government to court over this. Does the directive harm the UK’s economy? No. First, long hours do not always yield competitiveness. The average Greek works almost 700 hours a year more than the average German. Yet German industry does much better, in part because German workers are more productive, helped by better machinery, skills and management. Second, the opt-out gives British business plenty of flexibility. There is a broad trend away from the long-hours culture (the number of workers usually putting in more than 48 hours has come down from 4m to opinions 3.3m since 1998). But working hours tend to rise when the economy is doing well and fall in a recession. That leaves the health sector as the main trouble spot. Surveys show that most British surgeons think that the working time directive puts patients at risk. It forces hospital doctors to hand over to one another too often and does not leave junior doctors enough time to learn on the job. However, hospital doctors too have the right to opt out of the working time limits and many do, although the British Medical Association tells its members not to. Experts say that the reason why the directive is harder to digest for the NHS than for other European health systems is that UK hospitals rely so heavily prospect april 2013 on junior doctors, that there is a shortage of specialised surgeons and that some hospitals suffer from poor management. Given that most EU countries do not fully implement the directive, Cameron is right to ask the EU to have another look at it. The directive has had the biggest impact on hospitals, care homes and other 24-hour public services. It is desirable that doctors and nurses work decent hours. But since public services are not traded, it should be left to member states to set their own rules. If Cameron argues this in Brussels—rather than calling for a UK opt-out—he might be pushing against an open door. Katinka Barysch is deputy director of the Centre for European Reform Douglas Alexander There’s more to life than being a Scot The SNP’s world view is narrow—and wrong In her speech in December, Nicola Sturgeon, Scotland’s deputy first minister and deputy leader of the Scottish National Party said this: “My conviction that Scotland should be independent stems from the principles not of identity or nationality but of democracy and social justice.” And contained within that short statement is a chasm of error and a misunderstanding of both the past and the present. It misunderstands the past because the great advances such as the welfare state, trade union rights, the NHS—even the Scottish parliament and Welsh and Northern Irish assemblies—were secured by the votes of people all across Britain. Social justice is not just for Scotland, but is a universal ideal: a statement of solidarity and connectedness with neighbours. So when Labour opposed Margaret Thatcher during the 1980s, we didn’t do so because her policies injured Scottish sentiment, but because we believed they offended basic values about how people should live together. The Scottish Trade Union movement saw its role over the past two centuries as not simply building better conditions in Scotland, but building better conditions in Britain. As Gordon Brown pointed out in his Campbell Edinburgh Castle: “Social justice is not just for Scotland but is a universal ideal” Christie Lecture last year, the organiser of the first trade union in the 1790s, the London Corresponding Society, was a Scot. And, of course, the first leader in parliament of the British Labour party after it was formed in the early 1900s was a Scot, James Keir Hardie. The SNP’s claim to social justice also misunderstands the present. And it does so deliberately and out of necessity, in the absence of an alternative argument. Today we have a Conservative-led government—the nationalists’ claim relies on the spurious assertion that our friends, family and colleagues across the rest of the UK are not commited to social justice. That explains my difficulty with recent SNP rhetoric of Scotland as “a progressive beacon.” I reject a cultural conceit that relies upon a single stereotype of voters in the rest of the UK as somehow irredeemably different from Scottish voters. The problem, as with any stereotype, is not just that it is untrue but that it is incomplete. The SNP’s characterisation of the rest of the UK reflects what the Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie calls “the danger of a single story.” Adichie points out that our lives and cultures are composed of many overlapping stories. If we only hear a single story about another person—or nation—we risk a critical misunderstanding. The nationalists present one story of the UK, in which there is no possibility of Scots being truly similar in outlook to other people across the UK, and no possibility of feelings more complex than incomprehension. It must be disorientating, indeed painful for the Scottish nationalists to be confronted daily with the accumulating evidence that the change Scotland wants is different from the change they promise. The inconvenient truth for the nationalists is that their disagreement is not with their political opponent—it is with the overwhelming opinion of people in Scotland. This is not a party political fight. It is a conflict between the sovereign will of the Scottish people and the settled will of the SNP. Opinion polls confirm that the SNP’s independence plan is viewed as an analogue offering in a digital world. On a personal note, if I try and make sense of my life primarily through a lens of national identity, then the effect is to flatten my experience, and overlook the many other stories and experiences that make me who I am. I feel proudly and passionately Scottish. But, parenthood, if I’m honest, matters much more to me than nationhood. Douglas Alexander is shadow secretary of state for foreign & Commonwealth affairs and MP for Paisley and Renfrewshire South Swiss movement, English heart Bespoke Unitas 6497 hand-wound movement (Calibre JJ02) from master watchmaker, Johannes Jahnke / Each piece, of only 250, personally assembled by Johannes in our Swiss atelier / Supremely engineered, 43mm, 316L stainless steel case with full diameter transparent case-back / Unique serial number engraved on case and movement Premium Louisiana alligator deployment strap / 5 year movement guarantee 068_ChristopherWard_Prospect.indd 1 12/03/2013 17:05 16 opinions prospect april 2013 Dominic Raab Lawyers do not need degrees Time to remove one of Britain’s great glass ceilings Many people dream of a career in one of the professions, but struggle to fund those aspirations. In a 2012 report for the government, Alan Milburn estimated that the professions would account for 83 per cent of new jobs in Britain in the next decade. But, he argued: “Across the professions as a whole, the glass ceiling has been scratched but not broken,” adding “the graduate grip on the labour market is still strong.” Take law. The development of the Chartered Institute of Legal Executives (CILEX) has allowed over 20,000 qualified legal executives to enter the profession, mostly via a non-graduate route. Legal executives often specialise in areas such as conveyancing, family law, probate and litigation. Training is typically spread over five years of combined study and work. For the trainee, it costs around £7,000 for the first four years (while he or she is earning), compared to over £20,000 for pursuing a degree first. Over 80 per cent of CILEX members have parents who did not go to university. Just 2 per cent have a parent who was a lawyer. Half said the cost of the graduate route would have deterred them from becoming lawyers. Yet, there remain glass ceilings. Much of the work legal executives do has to be supervised by a solicitor, irrespective of the experience or ability of the individual. In practice, this is a major disincentive to legal executives setting up their own high street practices. Even when they can do the work, they are still tied to solicitors. This makes little sense. The restriction limits the aspirations of legal executives, and checks their ability to compete with solicitors on a level playing field. CILEX is applying to the Legal Services Board for independent practice rights, which would enable legal executives to break into this new territory. Subject to meeting the criteria to ensure proper regulatory supervision, the application should be approved. Likewise, BPP Law School is seeking regulatory approval to set up a work-based legal apprenticeship that can lead to full qualifi- cation as a solicitor—without a degree— within five years. Various high profile law firms have expressed an interest. Extending non-graduate access to the legal profession would also yield economic benefits, by expanding competition and promoting innovation. Legal fees have risen above inflation for the past five years. Many people are dispensing with unaffordable legal advice. On one estimate, one in five consumers foregoes necessary legal advice. Over half cited cost as the reason. The current regulatory barriers to becoming a solicitor, or setting up an independent firm as a legal executive, stifle the provision of high street legal services like probate and conveyancing at more competitive rates. Government should back these initiatives. Breaking these glass ceilings would reduce legal costs, expand consumer choice, cost the taxpayer nothing—and help pioneer non-graduate access into the professions. Dominic Raab is Conservative MP for Esher & Walton Diane Roberts Oh brother! Jeb Bush is running for president—already John Ellis Bush, better known as Jeb, George W Bush’s cleverer brother, appears to be running for president. I say “appears” because he has not said so in plain English. But he is beginning to grow the unmistakable plumage of a candidate. A book is the traditional non-announcement announcement of White House aspirations and he’s just published Immigration Wars: Forging an American Solution. It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a politician in possession of a publishing contract wants more than literary glory. Ever since JFK won a Pulitzer Prize in 1957 for Profiles in Courage, most candidates have introduced themselves to the nation, or reminded the nation of their existence, via hardback. Even vice-president Joe Biden, Texas governor Rick Perry and pizza mogul Herman Cain have hunkered down with a ghostwriter and produced something with which to score free media attention. Immigration Wars is a substantive and thoughtful look at American immigration. But that doesn’t matter. It allows Jeb Bush to put himself out there, reminding the nation of his existence. He appeared on all five of the major political TV programmes: NBC’s Meet the Press, CNN’s State of the Union, Fox News Sunday, ABC’s This Week with George Stephanopoulos, and CBS’s Face the Nation— on the same Sunday. This is known as the “full Ginsburg,” named after Monica Lewinsky’s lawyer William Ginsburg, thought to be the first person to pull off such a media coup. On every show, Bush insisted he was not running for president—sort of. As he said on CNN: “I’ve decided to defer any consideration of it until the proper time to make those kind of considerations, which is out more than a year from now, for sure.” But it’s never too early to deal with his surname problem: “I don’t think there’s any Bush baggage at all,” he told Fox News. “I love my brother, I’m proud of his accomplishments. I love my dad, I’m proud to be a Bush.” Then there’s that other Floridian, the senator who also has an immigration plan and who is spoken of as a potential Republican star in 2016. On NBC, David Gregory asked, “Who’s the hottest Florida politician right now? Is it you or Marco Rubio?” As speaker of the Florida House of Representatives, Rubio was Governor Bush’s pro- tégé, implementor of his privatise-everything priorities; now he may become Bush’s rival. Even in the scrum of a Republican primary campaign, there won’t be room for two sunshine state conservatives. Not that it would be much of a contest: the big money would be sucked into Bush’s orbit. Rubio would have to wait his turn. Gregory’s question irked Bush, who accused the media of being like “crack addicts”—Gregory was a bit taken aback. As was the nation. Bush amended his accusation: “OK, heroin addicts. Is that better? You really are obsessed with all this politics.” Imagine: politics on a political TV show. Bush’s recent interviews illustrate some of what consultants might call his “challenges” as a candidate: he can be arrogant and shorttempered. Moreover, accusing reporters of being junkies isn’t terribly smart, what with his daughter, Noelle, being sentenced to ten days in prison in 2002 after a rock of crack cocaine was found in her shoe while she was undergoing court-ordered rehab. Mind you, being rude to the “lamestream media” doesn’t cost conservative votes. On the contrary: in 2012, Newt Gingrich made loathing the press part of his platform. losing interest? Investing in a Stocks & Shares ISA is easier than you think With interest rates currently so low, your cash could be working harder for you. Investing in the stock market gives your money the potential to grow significantly faster than in your savings account, albeit with greater risk. 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During the last presidential campaign, Jeb Bush moved towards the centre, suggesting that if Republicans want to win elections they should stop demonising immigrants, and remarking that Reagan would struggle with the rigid orthodoxy of the contemporary GOP. He also supported giving the undocumented a “path to citizenship.” Now he has reversed himself, at least opinions in his new book, where he says, “a grant of citizenship is an undeserving reward for conduct that we cannot afford to encourage.” His limp explanation is that the book was written before Republicans lost the 2012 election, as if he had no idea back then that alienating Latinos was a bad idea. Now Bush says he’s “assured” the likes of Rubio, who is working toward immigration reform, that he is on the “same page.” prospect april 2013 Perhaps Bush, who left elected office in 2006, is just out of practice. Perhaps he’ll just write another book for 2014, when the primary campaigns start to gear up. In the meantime, he can polish his act and say stuff like, “I’m not saying yes, I’m just not saying no.” Yep, he’s running. Diane Roberts is a professor of English at Florida State University and a commentator for National Public Radio Justice Malala South African shadows The nation is on the precipice Last month, nine South African policemen catapulted our country yet again into the international headlines by dragging taxi driver Mido Macia down the street from behind their van. He was later found dead in his cell. But now I am reading of another horror, that did not make the international headlines. It was not captured on someone’s mobile phone. Two men died after they were set alight by a mob in the Freedom Park informal settlement near Rustenburg. This is the town now famous for the massacre of 34 mineworkers by police at Lonmin’s Marikana mine on 16th August last year. “One of the two men was already burnt beyond recognition whilst his counterpart was still in flames with a wooden table placed on top of his dead body [when police arrived],” a police spokesman said. The story takes me back to the 1980s, when suspected police informers were “necklaced”: tyres doused with petrol put around their bodies and burnt alive. It is easy for one’s mind to leap back to the violence of those times. Dirk Coetzee, the man who started the apartheid government’s police hit squads in 1980 to kill liberation activists, has just died aged 67. He personally murdered seven activists. Violence and brutality is in the news everyday in South Africa. We are a nation that is in mourning, asking ourselves why this happens. Why are we like this? In the weeks before and after Reeva Steenkamp, the girlfriend of Oscar Pistorius (above) was found dead at his house, reports of other cases, such as gruesome gang rapes, had the country in shock. Then there was the case of the nine policemen videoed dragging the taxi driver down the street. Once again, unbidden, the question has come to haunt us: are we an inherently violent and brutal nation? Graca Machel, Nelson Mandela’s wife and a revered international activist, said at the memorial of the taxi driver that “South Africa is an angry nation.” “We are on the precipice of something very dangerous with the potential of not being able to stop the fall,” she said. “The level of anger and aggression [in this country] is rising. This is an expression of deeper trouble from the past that has not been addressed.” Machel’s assertion reflects a country at sea. Many of us are looking back at the past and particularly at apartheid violence, and trying to sift some meaning from that. Others, such as President Jacob Zuma, refuse to acknowledge the truth. “South Africa is not a violent country—it is certain people in our country who are violent. By and large, we are not— we are peace-loving people,” Zuma told traditional leaders in the week of the burial of the taxi driver. We are keenly aware that we are not the miracle “rainbow nation of God,” as Archbishop Desmond Tutu memorably put it. Our violence is splashed on the front pages of the world, and it hurts. Like Zuma, some of us are in denial about our problem. Others wallow in self-pity and ask why we are like this. It cannot be poverty, because by developing world standards we are a prosperous nation. It surely cannot be apartheid’s fault alone (Zuma said “the apartheid system could only be sustained through violence, and violence became entrenched”). So what is it? Some, such as Oscar Pistorius’s father Henke, blame South Africa’s violent crime rates on the African National Congress. “It speaks to the ANC government, look at white crime levels, why protection is so poor in this country, it’s an aspect of our society,” he told the Daily Telegraph. The Pistorius family owns 55 guns. Pistorius senior, as many have pointed out, fails to recognise that the overwhelming majority of crime victims in South Africa are black. Such analysis of violence, crime and its brutal nature is plentiful in South Africa. Helpful answers are few. For many other South Africans, though, the recent attention on South Africa’s violence is a call to arms. Non-governmental organisations such as the excellent Sonke Gender Justice Network have been the heroes of the battle to eradicate genderbased violence. In a country where at least 65,000 sexual offences were reported last year, and convictions hover around only 4,000, many of these NGOs have been toiling alone to assist victims and push government to act. They continue the good fight. Yet, as illustrated by the numerous vigilante murders that occur across the country and violence of other kinds, we are still a nation that merely talks and fails to act. Depressed as we are by all these things, and much as we analyse and talk on radio shows and in newspaper columns, South Africa is still caught in the headlights. Not much that is concrete is happening to make us a less violent and brutal country. And we weep, and are shamed, and every day is another horror. Justice Malala is a South African political commentator and columnist 115294_gbr_smb_mar_1b_4c_pcp_fp210x275_prospect_magazine_pr.indd 115294_g _gbr_smb_mar_1b_4c_pcp_fp210 ar 1b 4c pcp fp210x275 0x2 275_prospect prospectt_magazine_pr.indd magazine pr. 1 3/11/13 9:36 AM 20 prospect April 2013 Who are the world’s top thinkers? Vote on who you think should be crowned the world’s most important thinker of 2013 Prospect has assembled an international list of leading thinkers to identify those engaging most originally and profoundly with the central questions of the world today and to provoke debate about the role of intellectuals in public life. Who is on the list? We have drawn up a list of 65 people, based on recommendations from our 10-strong panel. Candidates have to be alive and still active in public life. They must be distinguished in their field and have influence on international debate. We gave credit for the currency of the candidates’ work—their influence over the past 12 months and their continuing significance for this year’s biggest questions. The panel: Anne Applebaum (author), Philip Campbell (editor, Nature), Amy Chua (professor at Yale Law School), James Fallows (national correspondent for The Atlantic), Stephanie Flanders (BBC News economics editor), Bernard Henri-Lévy (philosopher), Bronwen Maddox (editor, Prospect), David Miliband (politician), Anna-Maria Misra (historian) and Strobe Talbott (president of the Brookings Institution). Panellists were not permitted to nominate themselves. How to vote To see detailed biographies and to vote for your top three, please go to: www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/worldthinkers The results will be announced in the May issue of Prospect, on sale from 25th April. 17. David Grossman, novelist. Israel. Peace activist and author of To The End of the Land 18. Chen Guangcheng, lawyer and civil rights activist. China. 19. Ramachandra Guha, historian. India. Author of India After Gandhi 20. Jonathan Haidt, psychologist. US. Author of The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion 21. James Hansen, climate scientist. US. Pioneer of global warming studies and head of the NASA Goddard Institute for Space Studies 22. Peter Higgs, theoretical physicist. UK. Predictor of the “Higgs boson” particle, the existence of which was proved at CERN in July 23. Wang Hui, political scientist. China. Author of The End of the Revolution: China and the Limits of Modernity 1. Ali Allawi, economist, writer. Iraq. Former finance minister of Iraq and writer of The Crisis of Islamic Civilisation 2. Anne Applebaum, journalist. US. Columnist for the Washington Post and author of Iron Curtain: The Crushing of Eastern Europe 1944-56 3. Katherine Boo, journalist. US. Author of Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life and Death in a Mumbai Slum 4. Margaret Chan, health policy expert. China. Director-general of the World Health Organisation 5. Ha-Joon Chang, economist. South Korea. Professor of economics at Cambridge University and author of 23 Things They Don’t Tell You About Capitalism 6. Paul Collier, development economist. UK. Director of the Centre for the Study of African Economies at Oxford University 7. Richard Dawkins, biologist, author. UK. Founder of the Richard Dawkins Foundation for Reason and Science and author of many books including The God Delusion 8. Mario Draghi, economist. Italy. President of the European Central Bank 9. Jared Diamond, anthropologist. US. Author of The World Until Yesterday: What Can We Learn From Traditional Societies? 24. Daniel Kahneman, psychologist. Israel/US. Author of Thinking, Fast and Slow 10. Esther Duflo, economist. France/US. Author, with Abhijit Banerjee, of Poor Economics 25. Ivan Krastev, political scientist. Bulgaria. Chairman of the Centre for Liberal Strategies, Sofia, and author of Can Democracy Survive When We Don’t Trust Our Leaders? 11. Mohamed ElBaradei, politician. Egypt. Egyptian opposition politician 12. Asghar Farhadi, filmmaker. Iran. Filmmaker and director of A Separation 13. Niall Ferguson, historian, columnist. UK. Author of Civilisation: The West and the Rest 14. Francis Fukuyama, political scientist. US. Author of The Origins of Political Order 15. Ashraf Ghani, politician. Afghanistan. Chairman of the Institute for State Effectiveness and of the Afghanistan transition coordination commission 16. Jeremy Grantham, investment strategist. UK. Investor and co-chair of the Grantham Foundation for the Protection of the Environment 26. Paul Krugman, economist. US. New York Times columnist and author of End This Depression Now! 27. Christine Lagarde, economist. France. Head of the International Monetary Fund prospect april 2013 21 who are the world’s top thinkers? 28. Hilary Mantel, novelist. UK. Author of Booker Prize-winning novels Wolf Hall and Bring Up The Bodies 52. Theda Skocpol, sociologist. US. Professor of government and sociology at Harvard University 29. Jessica Tuchman Mathews, political scientist. US. President of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace 53. Anne-Marie Slaughter, political scientist. US. Professor of politics and international affairs and former director of policy and planning for the US state department 30. Elon Musk, businessman. South Africa/US. Entrepreneur running startups in commercial space exploration, solar energy and electric cars 39. Carmen Reinhart, economist. US. Author, with Kenneth Rogoff, of This Time Is Different: Eight Centuries of Financial Folly 40. James Robinson and Daron Acemoglu, political scientist and economist. US/Turkey. Authors of Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity and Poverty 41. Hans Rosling, statistician. Sweden. Founder of Gapminder, an organisation promoting global development 31. Alexei Navalny, activist, lawyer, blogger. Russia. 54. Zadie Smith, novelist. UK. Essayist and author of NW 55. Andrew Solomon, writer. US. Author of Far From the Tree: Parents, Children and the Search For Identity 32. Moisés Naím, journalist. Venezuela. Author of The End of Power: Why Being In Charge Isn’t What It Used To Be 56. George Soros, philanthropist. US. Author of Financial Turmoil in Europe and the United States 33. Martha Nussbaum, philosopher. US. Author of The New Religious Intolerance: Overcoming the Politics of Fear in an Anxious Age 42. Arundhati Roy, writer, activist. India. Author of The God of Small Things 43. Oliver Sacks, psychologist, writer. UK/US. Author of Hallucinations 44. Michael Sandel, philosopher. US. Author of What Money Can’t Buy: The Moral Limits of Markets 57. Hernando de Soto, economist. Peru. President of the Institute for Liberty and Democracy, Lima 58. Nicholas Stern, economist. UK. Chair of the Grantham Research Institute on Climate Change and the Environment 59. Sebastian Thrun, computer scientist. Germany. Director of the AI Laboratory at Stanford and CEO of the online university Udacity 60. Roberto Unger, philosopher. Brazil. Professor at Harvard Law School and former “minister of ideas” for Brazil 34. Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, economist. Nigeria. Nigerian finance minister 61. Craig Venter, biologist. US. Head of the J Craig Venter Genomics Research Institute 35. Thomas Piketty and Emmanuel Saez, economists. France. Economists working on problems relating to income inequality 62. Steven Weinberg, theoretical physicist. US. Author of Lectures on Quantum Physiscs 63. Ai Weiwei, artist and activist. China. 45. Sheryl Sandberg, businesswoman. US. Chief operating officer of Facebook and author of Lean In: Women, Work and the Will to Lead 46. Fernando Savater, philosopher. Spain. Essayist and columnist for El País 64. Shinya Yamanaka, stem cell researcher. Japan. President of the International Society for Stem Cell Research (ISSCR) and joint-winner of 2012 Nobel Prize for Medicine 47. Eric Schmidt, businessman. US. Chairman of Google and author of the forthcoming book The New Digital Age 36. Steven Pinker, psychologist. US/Canada. Author of The Better Angels of Our Nature: A History of Violence and Humanity 37. Jean Pisani-Ferry, economist. France. Director of the European think tank Bruegel 38. Raghuram Rajan, economist. India. Chief economic adviser to India’s finance ministry 48. Amartya Sen, economist, philosopher. India. Author of The Idea of Justice 49. Robert Shiller, economist. US. Author of Finance and the Good Society 50. Nate Silver, statistician. US. New York Times blogger 51. Robert Silvers, editor. US. Editor of the New York Review of Books 65. Slavoj Žižek, philosopher. Slovenia. Author of The Year of Dreaming Dangerously ADVERTISING FEATURE CREATIVITY KEY TO A BRIGHTER FUTURE IT IS WELL-KNOWN THAT OUR INCREASINGLY COMPLEX AND INTERCONNECTED WORLD FACES UNPRECEDENTED ECONOMIC, GEOPOLITICAL AND ENVIRONMENTAL CHALLENGES IN THE YEARS AHEAD. THE QUESTION OF WHETHER WE HAVE THE FORESIGHT, CREATIVITY AND INVENTIVE CAPABILITY TO OVERCOME THESE RISKS IS LESS CERTAIN I t is relatively easy to identify the myriad risks emerging from the increasingly interdependent systems on which civilisation depends. Climate, water, energy, technology, demographic, economic, financial and political systems all appear overstressed and vulnerable to sudden, catastrophic failures. There are endless outpourings and overwrought metaphors about black swans perfect storms, fragility, stress, anxiety and looming meltdown. The media creates a ratchet effect and the language is becoming more extreme. These narratives run deep, as business and political leaders, economists, commentators and the public begin to see that these systems are connected and layered in mysterious ways. The result is an explosion in fear of the unknown. What is missing from the economic and political dialogue is a focus on the underlying forces of creativity and systemic invention in critical areas illustrated in our earlier essays on nanotechnology, solar power, water, regenerative medicine, intellectual property and a new world order. Blinkered policymakers? Sceptics argue that political and corporate leaders seem to stand idly by, paralysed by a fear of taking risks, or by C000662_Prospect_March_V5.indd 4 narrow self-interest, leaving them apparently incapable of addressing the challenges of the age. It seems true, for example, that scientists and policymakers appear to be wrapped in a deadly embrace, searching endlessly for overwhelming proof that biosystems are on the brink of collapse before they go about attempting to articulate a sense of purpose, or a vision of the world they want to create. There is no doubt that policymakers have a record of benign “Policymakers have a record of benign or even deliberate neglect” or even deliberate neglect, allowing both man-made and natural systems to evolve with little thought for strategy or design principles. This leaves them vulnerable to runaway, non-linear failures — the unintended consequences of policy errors and shockwaves. This is contrary to everything that has been learned about 9/11, the financial crisis, Katrina, Deepwater Horizon and, going further back, the Challenger space shuttle disaster. The message contained in a series of Congressional reports and the mea culpas of economists is that policymakers lacked not only understanding of complex systems, but imagination. Lack of understanding breeds policy inaction, or intervention that creates more complexity and so, paradoxically, increased risk. Embrace radical innovation It is not simply a failure of what we might call negative imagination but, more importantly, creative imagination. This is all the more challenging because invention is often framed as a source of risk — think of the controversy surrounding genetically modified food, or early work on stem cells. Frame the world in the language of risk and it is difficult to imagine hope. Some of this is of course justified, but politicians, economists and commentators are not, on the whole, inventors themselves. Wearing their risk hats, they tend to discount the possible impact of invention when they look forward. Unless we are determined, our simulated futures are modelled on our past, which means, among other things, that we discount radical innovation, particularly if it challenges our worldviews and belief systems. Political leaders find it difficult to win over sceptical voters — the argument that 11/03/2013 11:57 “we must act and pay now for the benefit of future generations” is not a pathway to securing votes. this has led to a policy and regulatory environment that misallocates capital and inventive capacity away from the real economy and ecologically sustainable growth. Secret inventors this is all compounded by the fact that breakthrough inventions are largely kept hidden — for good reason. New, yet often invisible trade routes, transporting ideas, rather than silk and spices, are being built at an ever-increasing rate. but why are they invisible and why are they shrouded in so much secrecy? the conventional explanation is that there are two creativity-driven business models shaping future innovation and, in turn, how we see the creation of future value. the first is based on speed of invention, design excellence, trade secrets, know-how and rapid execution. a variation on this model places emphasis on experimentation, collaborative networking, trust and fast failure. it is most obvious in media markets and academia. the second is increasingly intense patent development, which is being extended by collaborative patent cross-licensing, patent pooling and the creation of patent-centric partnership networks. here lies a paradox: the business model of choice is collaborative, open and networked, yet protection of intellectual property is a critical source of competitive advantage. 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Th system unds a wo he earlier l ave old W Missing from the economic and political dialogue is a focus on the underlying forces of creativity and systemic invention in critical areas illustrated in our earlier essays > means that ideas and rights protection are vital. At the same time, web technology encourages infinite replication and copying. Worse, electronic security is limited and no-one — even with the best of intentions — can yet control hacking and cybercrime. Intellectual property theft is a dominant and pervasive security issue. Secrecy is also driven by more personal factors. Inventors keep their ideas under wraps to preserve their personal competitive edge or for fear of theft. Creative people are mavericks, but they face strong social pressures. Innovative ideas often meet barriers, because they threaten the vested interests embedded in the cultural status quo. Those interests can be as much driven by mindsets and defences against anxiety as commercial interests and power. C000662_Prospect_March_V5.indd 6 Inventors are not well protected, so fear of competition frames secretive behaviour. Nor do inventors codify ideas in terms that are easily understood in conventional language — new ideas demand new lexicons. The best way to foresee the future is to invent it Against this background, radical invention is often hidden from policymakers, corporate leaders and economists alike. Policymakers can only generalise that investment in new concepts will actually deliver. It is a strategic act of faith that demands vision and risk, with uncertain outcomes — not a comfortable place to be in times of austerity. For economists, the challenge of navigating uncharted waters is acute but barely recognised: radical invention cannot be dismissed as a set of unknowns that are assumed to be neutral in economic models. Breakthroughs in science and technology will shape future markets. The same challenge is critical for corporate, city and national leaders and two related factors are becoming clear. “Radical invention is often hidden from policymakers, corporate leaders and economists alike” First, the best way to navigate complex markets is to understand better the flow of ideas and inventions. Second, as markets become interdependent, complex and uncertain, inventive capability is the key predictor of future success. Just look at the ebb and flow of sentiment 11/03/2013 11:57 about Apple, Facebook and BlackBerry, or the analysis of development spending and patent volumes emerging from China, or competition to be a leader in graphene research. Put another way, there is a growing realisation that the best way to foresee the future is to invent it. The question then is not only where we might look for inventive, productive, real economy growth, but how to look. Historians invest heavily in separating world history into time periods and particularly economic or industrial eras. So many would say that we have been through transport, industrial and computer revolutions and will soon emerge into the era of robotics, artificial intelligence and social machines. Yet the most important, radical and disruptive systemic revolution on the horizon is in plain sight: a shift to products and services that improve human well-being. This means not just in the worlds of health and care, but the well-being of the natural environment. This is where the traffic in ideas is growing exponentially and where many creative people are finding a sense of purpose and meaning. The risk and only solution to improving resilience and performance. As far as policy is concerned, the core emerging narrative is that over the next few years, governments and corporations will invest above all in ecosystem security, in part for reasons of economic stability, but also to maintain social order, as is clear in China. We can expect a shift in attitudes not just because of public opinion, but because governments and policymakers will begin to recognise that investment in well-being and sustainable technologies — which themselves will generate returns in the real economy — is a better way to resolve the sterile arguments presented in the no-win debate of credit expansion versus Systems designers and austerity, particularly in the west. governments: on the move? A new way of thinking is on the New business models are gaining ground horizon. Many parts of the puzzle are to deal with these myriad challenges. about to click into a new order, like the Collaborative trust networks, built by a pieces in the suddenly-changing new breed of systems designers and integrators will become a key component patterns of a kaleidoscope. There is no substitute for creativity, for people in the emerging industrial revolutions. determined to invent the future or for The boundaries between industrial investigative, intelligence-driven categories, such as water, energy and agriculture, are already breaking down as foresight that aims to find the traces of system-wide technological, economic and the all-important new trade in ideas — so that early stage investment capital political strategies are recognised as the can be directed where it is most needed. innovation agendas are converging. We can see this in part through research and development spending and patent volumes. While these are important and necessary indicators, they are not in themselves sufficient. We rely on sophisticated investigative intelligence and modelling techniques that have predictive power and help deal with inherent ambiguity and uncertainty. Yet a single creative idea, hidden away beneath the surface, can change the world. So this is not simply about expert foresight, but how we think about the future: we have very powerful personal and cultural filters that sway our judgment. Commissioned by Coutts from Peter Kingsley, PJR Limited, 2013 OPEN COLLABORATION NETWORKS AND INVENTION Enterprise software SAP, Oracle and IBM, which provide enterprise software that illustrates the workings of globalised trade, have more than 11,000 partners in their ecosystem — 900 in software development. %GEHIQMGWGMIRXM½GVIWIEVGL +PSFEPWGMIRXM½GVIWIEVGLMRZSPZIWQSVIGSEYXLSVWLMTXLERIZIVFIJSVI'VSWWFSVHIVGSPPEFSVEXMSRMR)YVSTIMWTEVXMGYPEVP]QEVOIH [MXL9/+IVQER]WLS[MRKNSMRXTYFPMGEXMSRWMRX[MGIEWQER]EWEGGSVHMRKXS½KYVIWJVSQ8LSQWSR6IYXIVW;IFSJ 7GMIRGI8LIVIEVIEPWSWYFWXERXMEPKVS[XL½KYVIWXLEXWLS[GSPPEFSVEXMSRFIX[IIRXLI97ERH'LMREERHFIX[IIR'LMREERH.ETERSZIV the same period. Water industry The water industry is on the brink of substantive change, driven not only by emerging, potentially catastrophic shortages, but also by increasingly strong interconnections between water, energy, agriculture, climate, demographics and broader political, social and economic systems. Crucially, it is also shaped by growing creativity and investment in advanced science and technology. C000662_Prospect_March_V5.indd 7 11/03/2013 11:57 26 prospect april 2013 Features Tax: the tip of the iceberg 26 Peter Kellner: How dodgy are we? 33 Does Eastern Europe still exist? 36 Apes and atheists 42 Exclusive account of an MP on tour 46 Russians once lived here 50 In pursuit of the $21 trillion David Cameron has one chance to target the tax dodgers—here is what he should do paul collier S tarbucks has done the world a great service. The techniques it used to avoid paying much corporation tax in Britain, in the 15 years since its coffee shops first appeared on the country’s high streets, while legal, have made the issue apparent and important to the British electorate. On the £3bn sales it has achieved in Britain since 1998, it has paid only £8.6m in corporation tax, a ratio that has pushed the previously arcane question of “corporate transfer pricing” to the centre of political debate. Starbucks could not have chosen a better moment: for the first time in years, the UK government has a chance to do something about it. Starbucks’s behaviour is the tip of an iceberg of corporate opacity. We cannot know how important it is, although estimates are enormous. Private financial wealth sitting in tax havens seems to be of the order of $21 trillion, of which around $9 trillion is from developing countries. Some miniscule jurisdictions, such as the Cayman Islands, have become the legal home of trillions of dollars of corporate assets through offering the unbeatable attractions of zero taxation plus secrecy. Some industries are now dominated by tax havens: half the world’s shipping is registered in them. It is difficult to see how this state of affairs can be in either the British or the global interest, but it can be addressed only through determined international cooperation. Abuse has persisted, and indeed escalated, because the opportunities for intergovernment cooperation are grimly limited: a reflection of the deficit in global economic governance. The world must make do with such opportunities as it has and the most practical forum to get things started is the G8, the annual meeting of the heads of the world’s major economies—the US, Japan, the UK, France, Germany, Italy, Canada, and Russia, as well as those of the European Commission and European Council. This year, by rotation, Britain is the host, and will hold the summit on 17th and 18th June in Lough Erne, Northern Ireland. The G8 is a rare and prePaul Collier is professor of economics and public policy at the Blavatnik school of government, University of Oxford. He has been assisting the UK government with the G8 agenda. This article is written entirely in a personal capacity cious opportunity: a private discussion among these leaders of an agreed economic policy agenda. Britain, as host, proposes an agenda which is then determined by agreement. While the presidency of the G8 does not confer authority, it offers the power to persuade. David Cameron rightly plans to keep the meetings small and closed, increasing the chances of honest discussion. Launching practical actions to tackle corporate opacity would benefit not only Britain and its G8 partners, but Africa which has suffered the consequences of tax avoidance and corruption for decades. Does the G8 matter anymore? Hasn’t it been superseded by the G20 which includes the big emerging market economies? Given the shift in the balance of the world economy, the G20 is certainly necessary. But the governments of the G8 cannot expect others to behave in the global interest if they are not prepared to lead by collective example. If the G8 is not prepared to act, it is unlikely that the larger, more disparate grouping of the G20 can reach agreement. The G8 has lost prestige as emerging economies have grown, but it retains the capacity for politically heavyweight economic cooperation for the global benefit. The last time Britain presided over the G8 was Gleneagles in July 2005: remember the ubiquitous white wrist bands which declared “Make Poverty History”? Tony Blair made poverty history by lining up G8 leaders to pledge doubled aid to Africa. Gleneagles was ostensibly Africa’s moment, but it coincided with the apogee of British political delusion. It followed on from The Commission for Africa, Blair’s panel and report into the future of the continent, but the sought-for headlines, “Blair saves Africa,” should more truly have read “Forget about Iraq.” Britain’s extra overseas aid nestled among the wider profligacy of Gordon Brown, then chancellor, underwritten by the credit bubble. But although the Gleneagles display of global leaders pledging more aid appeared to reflect British authority, in reality it reflected a forced solidarity, as Gleneagles immediately followed the bombings on the London Underground. Behind the show of linked hands they were seething at being bounced, and had no intention of complying. in pursuit of the $21 trillion 27 © Gunnar Pippel prospect april 2013 An island escape: “private financial wealth sitting in tax havens seems to be of the order of $21 trillion” 28 in pursuit of the $21 trillion T he socially costly means of corporate tax avoidance is to shift profits through transfer pricing. The plain vanilla form of transfer pricing is for the subsidiary of a company which is based in a high-tax jurisdiction to sell its output to one in a lower-tax jurisdiction at a price below its true value. Or, with equivalent effect, it might buy an input that was over-priced. The result is that the arm of the company in the high-tax country will pay less tax than it would have done—often far less tax. Profits that might be taxed will have been transferred to the arm of the company in the low tax country. The distinctive aspect of transfer pricing is that profits are shifted between countries by the artifice of accountants and lawyers rather than by relocating real economic activity. The scope for transferring real economic activity is naturally bounded by the economic characteristics of locations. While a firm might decide to relocate manufacturing from France to Britain, for example, it is not going to relocate it to the Cayman Islands. In contrast, the scope for shifting profits through transfer pricing is unbounded: the profits from manufacturing, whether in France or Britain, can potentially all be assigned to a company registered in the Cayman Islands. Lest you think such shenanigans are hypothetical, Jersey has become the world’s largest exporter of bananas. In turn, this distinction feeds back on whether tax competition is moderate or intense. Being major locations for real economic activity, no G8 jurisdiction has found it advantageous to cut tax rates to the floor. But there are over 700 independent tax jurisdictions, most fundamentally ill-suited to real economic activity. Since each of them can be the location for ownership of a company, competition between them has been so intense that it has remorselessly driven their corporate tax rates to zero: hence the tax havens. When combined with the web of reciprocal tax treaties originally intended to avoid double taxation, we arrive at what Pascal Saint-Amans, head of taxation at the OECD, aptly refers to as “double non-taxation.” G8 countries woke up to plain vanilla transfer pricing decades ago. They now contain it through scrutinising the prices used for intra-corporate transactions and comparing them to third-party prices. But even plain vanilla remains a severe problem in Africa since the typical tax authority lacks the capacity to scrutinise © reuters Now is not then: in eight short years the world has turned upside down. The glamour has shifted to the G20, Western prosperity has turned into austerity and, while we decline, Africa is accelerating. China, not Britain, has become Africa’s patron: it has even donated the new headquarters of the African Union. And, as an African leader said to me, “if the West starts lecturing us on governance, we’ll say: ‘Berlusconi?’” So if the days of profligacy and preaching are over, what is Britain’s role at Lough Erne? Are we there merely to make the tea for a bunch of superseded politicians reminiscing about former triumphs? No. No! NO!!! There is important work to do, and only these few can do it. The countries of the G8 are now themselves beset by the corporate opacity that Africa has faced for decades. By putting our own house in order, we will at last truly be doing something beneficial for the global poor. The G8 is now far more important than in the easy years of the rising tide. Corporate opacity is hugely profitable both for those who exploit it and those who create it. It exists because it is profitable and it persists because, by design, it is below the radar. Despite being the key global economic actors, it is astoundingly easy for international corporations to conceal their cross-border transactions. Governments have done far more to curb concealed movement of workers across borders than concealed movement of corporate money. This is not because the consequences are more serious but because illicit migration, though concealed from border agencies, is apparent to voters. Tax avoidance and corruption, the consequences of corporate opacity, matter greatly. I will take them in turn. The opacity of international corporate structures makes it much easier for companies to take advantage of the substantial differences in tax rates between jurisdictions to avoid tax legally. Some of these responses are reasonable and others socially costly. A reasonable means of corporate tax avoidance is to relocate production to those jurisdictions that offer lower tax rates. Variations in tax rates between these jurisdictions largely reflect reasonable differences in national economic policies. Potentially, to induce relocation countries could engage in a race to the bottom in taxation in which all governments lost. But more realistically the scope for relocation merely discourages egregiously damaging corporate tax rates. prospect april 2013 Opportunities for global cooperation on tax avoidance “are grimly limited.” David Cameron must use the G8 presidency to press for action 30 in pursuit of the $21 trillion and compare prices. For example, when I discussed with the Zambian tax authority why the copper companies were paying so little tax despite the high world price of copper, its officials ruefully explained that there were few smart accountants in Zambia, they all worked for the companies, and their job was to minimise tax. While there are transparent global markets in refined metals, with observable prices, there are no equivalent markets for ores. So, a mining company which sells its ore to a parent company abroad for refining can potentially use a notional ore price that keeps the subsidiary at break-even. Given the growing importance of resource extraction to Africa, this is of enormous consequence. The G8 can do a lot to help Africa and other poor regions tackle this sort of corporate abuse. As the G8 tax authorities have demonstrated, mis-pricing can be contained by scrutiny. With the notable exception of South Africa, the region suffers because being divided into so many tiny jurisdictions, building the necessary capacity in each national tax authority is unviable. The remedy, both for resource extraction and more generally, is to provide guideline price information internationally, using both prices on global markets and standardised conversion factors from them to the unobservable prices such as those for ores. Officials of the OECD want to create such a database, and the G8 could give it political impetus. International companies operating in Africa would then be required either to use these guideline prices in their accounts, or to report and justify deviations. The transfer of skills from the tax authorities of South Africa and the OECD would complement the provision of data. One idea is to establish “Tax Inspectors Without Borders,” whereby, on request, staff could be seconded for a few months. Working alongside local officials, they would combine doing with teaching. Instead of being left to find a needle in a haystack, African tax authorities would at last stand some chance of curbing transfer pricing. I am under no illusions as to the ingenuity of corporate accountants or the weak capacity of African tax authorities. This approach might only work for a decade while new avoidance strategies evolve. But the battle against tax avoidance is like that against disease: the only viable approach is repeated changing of the locks. The problem of tackling transfer pricing in G8 countries is tougher. Plain vanilla has been superseded by more sophisticated ways of shifting profits. The technique that is now used to avoid corporate tax is not the mis-pricing of transactions but the mislocation of activities. High-value intellectual property is legally located in tax havens where it has not been produced. The essential feature of a tax haven is not that it offers low taxation, but that it is the legal home of profits that have not been generated by any real activity located there. Subsidiaries in higher-tax jurisdictions purchase the right to use intellectual property that is owned by companies registered in tax havens, thereby transferring profits to them. The Starbucks scheme, while legal, was of this type. It is difficult to determine what a reasonable rate of payment by the British subsidiary for the rights to use the Starbucks brand might be, and quite possibly the rate that Starbucks adopted was within this wide range. But should companies be free to assign the ownership of rights such as these to tax havens like the Netherlands Antilles, which have played no part in generating the value of the brand? The creation of brand value could more reasonably have been assigned to the United States, but such a profit transfer would have increased the overall tax liability of the global corporation. If that had been the alternative to leaving the profits in Britain, Starbucks might have argued—entirely plausibly—that prospect april 2013 the brand value for the British market was created by marketing conducted in Britain. Curbing the mis-location of ownership is complicated: there is no ideal technical fix. Some academic economists go so far as to argue that corporate taxation is fundamentally flawed and should be replaced by other taxes. This is not going to happen. Practical approaches to limiting mis-location are based upon overruling the way that the corporation has assigned its profits between jurisdictions. The problem is what to put in its place. One approach, known as presumptive taxation, is to require the company to report its global profits and then apportion them between jurisdictions according to some readily observable yardstick of activity, such as the wage bill. Despite its evident attractions it has three substantial problems: unfairness, inefficiency and politics. If wages or capital are used as the basis for apportioning profits then high-income countries will get the lion’s share of profits even if most value is added in poor countries. Applied to resource extraction it would be grossly unfair: mines are profitable because they extract natural assets which belong to the country. It would be inefficient, because assigning profits on the basis of some input would be equivalent to taxing it. Firms would respond by using less of it. But what utterly kills presumptive taxation is the politics: any observable yardstick for the assignment of profits produces winners and losers among the major countries and so the losers will block it. There is no serious prospect of a wholesale switch to presumptive taxation. “There are few smart accountants in Zambia, they all work for the companies and their job is to minimise tax” Any workable scheme has to leave tax havens as the losers while protecting the interests of countries in which real productive activity is located. There is now scope for such a deal because the US government, traditionally hostile to all presumptive taxation, has woken up to the fact that transfer pricing is costing it revenue. A simple alternative to presumptive taxation is for companies to be required to report the apportionment of their global profits. Transparency alone could discourage much tax avoidance because it could impose damaging reputational costs. If you think this is fanciful, I quote from a recent report on tax avoidance by the Institute of Chartered Accountants. It concludes that “as with most other commercial matters on the edge of the law, an ethical judgement may need to be made as well as a legal one.” It recommends the benchmark of being willing to defend the arrangement in the public domain. Arrangements such as that of Starbucks fell short of this benchmark. The company’s management has volunteered to pay more tax on falling sales, inadvertently emphasising the current disconnection between tax and genuine profits. If transparency is not enough, then there are possibilities that are less drastic than the full monty of presumptive taxation. For example, reporting could be supplemented by internationally agreed rules under which tax authorities are empowered to set aside the labyrinth of corporate structures. There might even be an adjudication process, with the tax authorities of countries with significant real economic activity acting together in cases of egregious disconnection between the allocation of profit and activity between jurisdictions. At present, such possibilities struggle 32 in pursuit of the $21 trillion to make progress in technical committees of the OECD at which mid-level officials from finance ministries are inclined to regard success as narrowly defending the national interest. A challenge for David Cameron is to generate political commitment on such matters that strikes a balance between empty grandiosity and the minutiae of excessive specificity. He needs to know his brief but not drown in it. A test of success is if officials grasp that returning from international tax meetings with preservation of the status quo is not victory. Corporate opacity not only assists tax avoidance, it is the key vehicle for corruption. In Africa, and other poor regions, corruption is a huge impediment to decent economic and political governance. If corruption is the concern, does this take the G8 back to preaching? After all, isn’t it Africa that is corrupt, not us? With reason, African leaders often point out that it takes two to tango: the bribing foreign company as well as the bribed official. Corruption is illegal everywhere, but honest African political leaders and officials face overwhelming difficulties in enforcing legislation because corruption is difficult for them to prove and its proceeds are easy to conceal. In principle, it is much easier to discourage corporate bureaucracies from paying bribes than individual officials from accepting them. One way to discipline companies is to bring transparency into their payments to governments and public officials. On payments to governments, America has recently made reporting a legal requirement for US-listed resource extraction companies, through the Cardin-Lugar amendment to the 2010 Dodd Frank Act. On curbing bribes to public officials, Britain recently made the major advance of the Bribery Act, which came into force in July 2011. Other G8 countries are already moving on one or the other of these fronts. The European parliament is considering an equivalent of Cardin-Lugar. The US has recently clarified and tightened the application of its Foreign Corrupt Practices Act. Following a bribery scandal, Canada is in the process of doing the same. The G8 has the momentum and the opportunity to move collectively to common high standards on both revenue reporting and corruption. Only common standards can provide a level playing field for international competition. Berlusconi recently protested that Italian companies should be free to bribe their way prospect april 2013 into contracts, but thankfully he will not be representing Italy at Lough Erne. Other G8 leaders are unlikely to be so shameless. Will President Vladimir Putin go along with the majority? Well, as the current host of the G20, in April Russia is convening a major conference on tackling corruption in government and business: the Russian sherpa (the senior official orchestrating it) has just invited me to address it. Manifestly, the Russians are aware that they have a reputation to live down. For this very reason they may not wish to be an obstructive exception at the G8. O f course, for a truly level playing field, although common standards across the G8 would be a major advance, they need to extend beyond the G8. But G8 adoption is the essential precursor to the G20, the wider group which includes the main emerging economies, being prepared to take these matters forward. Africans who say “it takes two to tango,” though right in spirit, are wrong in detail. Corruption takes three players: the briber, the bribed, and the facilitator. Corrupt money is laundered through fake companies and untraceable bank accounts. The lawyers and bankers who facilitate these transactions are not based in Lagos and Nairobi; they are in London and New York. African governments are impotent to address money laundering, but the G8 could close it down. By targeting the facilitators the G8 could complement the Cardin-Lugar and Bribery Act approach of targeting companies. A bribe would not only become more difficult to conceal as it left a company’s bank account, it would become more difficult to conceal as it entered the account of the bribe taker. Fake companies, known as “shell companies,” are the major vehicle for bribes. A study by the World Bank of 150 known cases of grand corruption found that shell companies were important in 70 per cent of them. A shell company conceals its real— “beneficial”—owners. It is astoundingly easy for lawyers to establish such companies. Researchers conducting a recent experimental study for Griffith University in Australia sent more than 7000 emails to law firms—“corporate service providers”—around the world requesting one to be set up. Included in some emails, on a randomised basis, was incriminating information indicative of corruption: a premium on normal fees was offered to maintain secrecy. In these cases, the number of law firms demanding identity documents (an international requirement allowing the owner to be traced) fell. G8 countries were high in the global league table of the legal lackeys of embezzlement. The study concluded: “Untraceable shell companies are in practice widely available. Despite their regular pronouncements to the contrary, rich, developed countries are delinquent in enforcing the rules on corporate transparency, doing significantly worse than developing countries, and three times worse than the oft-reviled tax havens. Even customers who should be obvious corruption and terrorism financing risks to any provider exhibiting any risk-sensitivity are still regularly offered untraceable shell companies.” Richard Dawkins’s goldfish Untraceable beneficial ownership of companies, whether based in tax havens or elsewhere, has been a concern of the Financial Action Task Force. The FATF is a technical group of 34 major countries with the power to blacklist those financial systems that do not meet adequate standards of transparency. Since September 2001 its primary concern has been to curb terrorist finance where it has had some success. While the FATF can set rules and make recommendations, it is up to each country how vigorously prospect april 2013 in pursuit of the $21 trillion they are implemented. Beyond the high-profile issue of terrorist finance, the FATF has lacked the coordinated high-level political support for its work to be sufficiently effective. Compliance with its anti-money-laundering procedures has tended to degenerate into a culture of box ticking. The law firms and banks to which the rules apply have not been sensitised to why they matter. In the tussle between scrutiny and profit, scrutiny can only win if those tasked with doing it recognise its social value. For the beneficial ownership of all companies to become either a matter of public record or at least readily ascertainable by legitimate authorities, a new approach is needed. It would combine tighter responsibility for reporting, increased investigative effort, tougher penalties, and automatic exchange of information. The responsibility for reporting should rest with people who have something to lose from misrepresentation. A minimalist approach would be for the lawyers empowered to establish companies as “legal persons” to be subject to public certification as fit and proper persons to perform their duties—as with notaries and doctors. They would then face the risk of being struck off and unable to practice. Currently, we regulate the birth certificates of people far more closely than the birth certificates of companies. There is an undoubted need for a major increase in investigative effort. In Britain the authorities currently investigate only around a thousand of the 280,000 annual reports of transactions which give grounds for suspicion. The deterrent effect of penalties for non-compliance can be increased both by increasing those penalties and by making conviction easier. For the typical lawyer the threat of jail is likely to be a more potent deterrent than that of a fine. In the context of a low probability of detection, fines are liable to be factored in as a cost of business. The most straightforward means of increasing the risk of conviction is to lower the threshold of evidence by imposing strict liability—which means no excuses are accepted. We apply strict liability if a firm pol- 33 lutes a stream, but not if a lawyer registers a company without ascertaining beneficial ownership. Finally, while money can be moved between jurisdictions at the speed of light, the exchange of information between authorities is voluntary and so currently sometimes moves at the pace of an uncooperative bureaucrat. Information needs to be stored in compatible systems and, subject to safeguards, exchanged automatically. Corporate opacity is not inadvertent: it is the cumulative achievement of the sustained effort of some of the most brilliant professional minds on the planet. These people should hang their heads in shame. In advanced economies their actions undermine the tax base and the public spending essential for the maintenance of decent living standards. Worse, their actions bleed the world’s poorest societies of tax revenues, and facilitate the mass looting of the public purse. The resource booms of the current decade are Africa’s decisive opportunity: if the history of plunder were to be repeated it would be a tragedy of awesome proportions. Professional brilliance has enabled the accountants, lawyers and bankers who facilitate these evils by exploiting outdated systems to stay within the letter of the law. This is sufficient to unshackle greed from the constraints of conscience. That is why we need a top-level push from the G8; a push which David Cameron is in pole position to initiate. Although London is a major centre for the construction of corporate opacity, it would be a mistake for Britain to act alone. While it might look heroic, it would not address the problem facing poor countries—shell companies would merely shift elsewhere. But by offering to put our house in order as long as other major financial centres do the same, we face the other G8 leaders with an opportunity that they would be irresponsible not to seize. Even once launched, it may take civil servants some years of coordinated and laborious effort to bust corporate opacity. But without focused and determined leadership at Lough Erne it will not get started. How dodgy are we? People are less angry at illegal practices by individuals than legal avoidance by companies peter kellner L iars, cheats and crooks have always been with us. So have accountants who hunt for fancy tax loopholes on behalf of greedy clients. We have never liked any of them; but when times were good, the economy was motoring and government had money to spend, we worried more about other things. Today, when money is tight, the mood is different. Tax-dodging and welfare-fiddling are not only morally offensive; they also starve the government of revenue it badly needs. The cost to the rest of us, in higher taxes or lower public spending, is more keenly felt. But which affronts us more: the moral turpitude or the lost cash—the welfare cheats who lie in order to claim extra benefits, or the millionaires who tell no lies and use legal, but artificial, means to minimise their tax bill? YouGov’s latest poll for Prospect suggests that, when push Peter Kellner is president of YouGov comes to shove, rich tax avoiders—companies as well as individuals—offend us most. They should be the top target for government action. However, just to make life that bit more difficult for ministers juggling with their priorities, Conservative voters do not see things in quite the same way as everybody else. First, our survey posed six frequently discussed ways in which different people try to keep, or get, more cash for themselves. Not surprisingly, the one that attracts the greatest opprobrium is rich individuals engaging in tax evasion—lying about their income in order to keep their tax bill down. Eighty-eight per cent say this is “never” or “rarely” acceptable (although 8 per cent of the public—that’s more than 3m people—say it is sometimes, or usually, acceptable). The proportion that condemns rich people who don’t lie but use legal, if artificial, forms of tax avoidance is lower, but still overwhelming: 73 per cent. Between these two are the big majorities who think it is 34 how dodgy are we? never, or rarely, acceptable for those not living in poverty to claim extra welfare benefits by cheating (82 per cent) and those who are appalled by companies that keep down their tax bill by using internal accounting devices to shift profits from Britain to low-tax countries. A smaller number, but still a clear majority (64 per cent), condemns parents who lie to claim extra benefits to make ends meet, but a substantial minority, 30 per cent, say this can sometimes be acceptable. The only one of the six activities that divides Britain down the middle is individuals such as plumbers, decorators and electricians who charge “people like you less if you pay cash, when you are sure that they will not pay income tax and/or VAT on what you pay them.” As many as 44 per cent say this can be acceptable, while 48 per cent say it is always or almost always wrong. So, overall, there is widespread condemnation of cheating and avoidance of all kinds, with the partial exception of cash-inhand small traders. However, when we move from asking separately about the six activities to a comparative question—“which two are the most unacceptable”—a sharper picture emerges. The top three public hates are the activities of rich people and companies, even if they operate within the law. It seems that public priorities are driven more by the lost cash than outright dishonesty. Welfare cheats score much lower, and here there is more of a cash/morality trade-off, with more people (26 per cent) saying one of their top hatreds is individuals who are not poor lying to boost their income by £40 a week—and far fewer, 11 per cent, condemning parents of children living in poverty lying to claim twice as much, £80 a week. It’s clear that these rankings are driven by a widespread perception that legal tax avoidance by companies and rich individuals costs the government more than illegal tax evaders and welfare prospect april 2013 cheats. They are probably right. Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs tries to estimate the money lost each year through avoidance and evasion. HMRC’s estimate can only be a best-guess, of course: by definition, much of the lost cash goes to people and activities they have not tracked down; but it thinks tax avoidance currently costs at least £5bn a year, while fraudulent welfare claims cost £1.2bn and cash-in-hand moonlighting £1.9bn a year. And some of that fraudulently-claimed £3.1bn goes to well-off crooks, dishonest landlords and sophisticated scams: the total amount going to “ordinary” small traders and welfare cheats is probably much less. However, Conservative voters have a different take from Labour and Lib Dem supporters. By 55-40 per cent, Tories think the government’s priority should be to clamp down on tax evaders and welfare cheats, rather than the legal tax avoidance activities of big corporations and rich individuals. By large margins, those who support Labour (by 72-20 per cent) or the Lib Dems (by 63-31 per cent) hold the opposite view. Finally, we asked people if they had dodged the tax or welfare system themselves. As YouGov conducts its surveys online, people tend to be more honest about sensitive questions than in telephone or face-to-face polls, which require admission to a stranger of questionable behaviour. However, common sense suggests that our figures are still underestimates of the true position. Nevertheless, it’s notable that 18 per cent of our respondents admit to having paid small traders in cash to help them evade tax and/or VAT—that’s equivalent to 8m adults. And 5 per cent, or more than 2m, admit to cheating in order to pay less tax or claim extra welfare benefits. As might be expected, they are less censorious than the wider public of tax-dodging activities. But the differences aren’t huge. With them, as with people as a whole, the picture is clear: morality matters, but money matters more. Avoiding tax: the public view What is morally acceptable? Rich individuals lying about their income (tax evasion) % Individuals NOT in extreme poverty who lie to claim extra benefits 88 4 4 Companies minimising tax by paying lower tax in other countries 82 4 Always/usually acceptable 4 6 Sometimes acceptable Individuals using legal methods (off-shore tax schemes) to minimise tax 73 78 7 Rarely/never acceptable Parents who lie to claim benefits to provide for their family 9 7 7 Workers such as decorators, who charge less for cash 10 6 9 7 Parents with children in poverty getting £80 extra a week in benefits by lying 11 A worker doing a significant part of their work for cash to reduce their tax bill 6 48 11 An individual saving £10,000 a year in UK tax by lying about income 37 Those NOT living in extreme poverty who lie to get an extra £40 a week in benefits 26 Not sure 17 less UK tax a year using legal tax avoidance methods 44 A rich individual saving £1m in UK tax using legal methods of tax avoidance 41 64 21 Which two of these, if any, Which should the are MOST unacceptable*? government’s priority be? A company paying £10m 27 8 None 5 Don’t know 6 Reduce the amount of tax legally avoided by companies and rich individuals exploiting loopholes 54 % 36 Don’t know 10 Minimise illegal tax evasion and false benefit claims *A small number of respondents ticked only one option Short Break Holidays for discerning travellers AD E HOL ID R D LERS Prices are per person and include flights, return transfers or car hire, accommodation with breakfast, Kirker Guide Notes to restaurants, museums and sightseeing and the services of the Kirker Concierge. EL FO ice adv e rt 1 9 8 6 e xp e c n si AV TA I L O YS R A -M Kirker Holidays provides carefully crafted tailor-made holidays to over 140 destinations in 40 countries - including 70 classic cities and over 250 relaxing rural locations throughout Europe, North Africa, Southern Africa and India. 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Attracting the world’s leading singers and conductors - The Vienna State Opera is one of the world’s top five opera houses with productions of the highest calibre. During our stay there will be a comprehensive programme of sightseeing including visits to the Kunsthistorisches Museum which has one of the world’s finest collections of Old Masters and the Belvedere where we see Gustav Klimt’s ‘The Kiss’. Price from £1,898 for four nights including flights, transfers, two opera performances, two dinners and the services of the Kirker Tour Lecturer. 36 © Bartello prospect april 2013 Does Eastern Europe still exist? Forget the clichés, learn the lessons anne applebaum I n February 2009, the Economist ran a cartoon which featured caricature versions of Angela Merkel, Nicholas Sarkozy and Gordon Brown, then the leaders of their respective countries. The three were sitting at a luxuriously appointed dining table, their faces frozen in exaggerated horror. All were contemplating a giant bill, at the top of which was written, “for the rescue of Eastern Europe.” The accompanying article, just to drive home the point, was entitled “The bill that could break up Europe.” Eastern Europe, the article warned in dire tones, had been financially damaged and politically weakened by the international economic crisis. Eastern Europeans had been “on a binge fuelled by foreign investment [and] the desire for western living Anne Applebaum holds the Philippe Roman Chair in history and international affairs at the London School of Economics for 2012—13. This article is based on a lecture sponsored by LSE Ideas. She also runs a programme on global transitions at the Legatum Institute standards,” they had botched or sidestepped reforms and they had “wasted their borrowed billions on construction and consumption booms.” Eastern Europe should of course pay the price for its own profligacy, the Economist intoned, but Western Europe might well have to step in: After all, if Eastern Europe were to go down in the flames of financial crisis, then proper Western countries like Ireland and Greece might be affected as well. The rest, as they say, is history. Eastern Europe did not collapse, or at least not all of it, or not all at once. But Ireland and Greece did both go down in the flames of financial crisis, and Spain and Italy nearly did too. Even now, Portugal is still touch and go, Britain is likely to enter a triple-dip recession and France has soaring unemployment. To put it bluntly, the Economist was…wrong. Four years after that 2009 article, the rich Western countries are not sitting around a metaphorical dining table dispensing largesse to their poor eastern cousins. Instead, they are wrestling with one another on top of that table or begging prospect april 2013 does eastern europe still exist? 37 Development in Warsaw: though it once was, “Eastern Europe is no longer a single entity” for scraps to save themselves, while some of the unwanted guests from the east are, like Slovakia, which is a eurozone member, actually contributing to their rescue. Now, there are a number of conclusions I could draw from the predictive failure of this cartoon. Clearly, the first and most obvious is this: beware of caricatures in the Economist, as they will soon be out of date. The second conclusion, however, is that it is now time to lay aside all of our common prejudices about Europe, and start thinking about the continent a little differently. Let me put it more strongly: after the events of the past four years, we should really toss out every stereotype, every cliché and every assumption that has ever been made about Europe’s political geography. East versus west, north versus south, none of it really makes sense of what is going on any more. The first and sharpest economic crisis in Europe after 2008 started not in the east but in Iceland, far to the west. The deepest recession was not in the traditionally slow south, but in Ireland, until recently part of the dynamic north. The bad debts accumulated by British financial institutions exceed, by many tens of billions, the combined governmental debt of Poland and the Czech Republic, two countries that had no domestic banking failures to speak of. When it went bankrupt, the government of Latvia buckled down, carried out an austerity program, pulled through and is now back at 5 per cent growth. The Greeks, by contrast, faced with the same prospect, rioted, protested, had to institute a government of national unity and wound up having its economic policy dictated by the EU. Slovakia, a country which had 10 per cent growth rates a few years ago, also experienced a collapse and a major recession in 2009 but has now returned to 4 per cent growth. Poland has not suffered a recession at all, and has grown, cumulatively, 20 per cent since 2008. In general, members of the former Eastern Europe pay lower rates on their bonds, reflecting the fact that international markets have confidence in them. The Czechs pay 2 per cent, the Slovaks pay 2.1 per cent and the Poles pay 3 per cent. Meanwhile, the Portuguese pay almost 6 per cent, the Italians nearly 5 per cent—and the Greeks, 10 per cent. Instead of dragging down Europe, the eastern half of the continent is now a major contributor to growth and wealth all over Europe. Indeed, the exports of the 15 countries of “old” Europe to the 10 countries of “new” Europe doubled over the past decade. Britain’s export to the 10 countries that joined after 2004 rose from €2.2bn in 1993 to €10bn in 2011; France’s, from €2.7bn to €16bn, Germany’s from €15bn to €95bn. One occasionally hears someone grumble that EU enlargement is one of the causes of the current crisis. But the facts point to the opposite conclusion: without enlargement, economic turmoil might have come far earlier. This is not to say that everything in Eastern Europe is going well. But then, Eastern Europe cannot really be described anymore with a single word like “well” or “badly,” because Eastern Europe is no longer a single entity. Once upon a time, of course, it was. When correctly applied, the term “Eastern Europe” is not a geographical term but a political term. It is also an expression that belongs to particular historical period. Properly speaking, it refers to the nations that were, between 1945 and 1989, dominated by Soviet-style communism. Often, it also included the nations that were part of the Soviet Union after 1917 or 1918, at least those considered “European” and not Asian. Either way, this was not a region which was ever culturally or ethnically homogenous. Its inhabitants were Catholic, Greek-Catholic, Russian Orthodox, Romanian Orthodox, Lutheran, Baptist, Jewish and Muslim. They spoke Slavic languages, Romance languages, Finno-Ugric languages, Baltic languages and German. They lived in cosmopolitan cities like Berlin, and they lived in isolated rural communities without electricity or running water. Between 1945 and 1989, this otherwise disparate group of European nations did, briefly, have quite a lot in common. Some of the resemblance was superficial: posters with hammers and sickles, May Day parades, identikit airlines that served poison instead of coffee, for example. But some of the resemblance was serious. They all had to contend with a legacy of bad economic decisions. The nationalisation of industry, central planning and a state-dominated retail sector were universal. So were fixed prices, fixed exchange rates and import-export controls. It is incorrect to assume, as many do, that the fundamental nature of communist economics was so very different in Hungary, Slovakia, Armenia or Albania. It is a myth, for example, that there was no agricultural collectivisation in Poland. Larger Polish estates were converted to collective farms, as I know because I own a house that used to be part of one. But since the fall of the Berlin wall, the nations of what we used to call Eastern Europe have taken very different directions. The economist Anders Åslund has written, accurately, that despite some of the theoretical debates which took place at the time, in practice there were really only three economic paths which individual countries could take after the break-up of the Soviet empire. They could, like the Poles, the Czechs, the 38 does eastern europe still exist? Slovaks, the Hungarians and the Balts, choose the path of radical reform, leading to liberal democratic capitalism. They could, like Russia, Ukraine, Armenia, Moldova or Kazakhstan, become rent-seeking states, crony capitalist societies whose businessmen make money not through economic competition but through a symbiotic relationship with corrupt state bureaucrats. Or they could, like Turkmenistan and Belarus, re-establish state despotism and swap the language of Marx for nationalism and brand new cults of personality. These aren’t clean divisions, of course. Romania and Bulgaria started out with crony capitalism, made more liberal reforms over time, but now are facing real opposition to the corrupt elites who remain. Russia started out with some of the most radical reforms in the region, but lapsed into crony capitalism when the reforms stopped. Yugoslavia broke up into bits, each of which took a different path, and was dragged down by civil war. But my point is that there wasn’t, and isn’t, anything else. There is no state in the region which selected a happy path between communism and capitalism, because there was no such path. There was no Third Way. Those countries which attempted a “kinder” and more “gradualist” transition simply got stuck with more corruption. If their business elites learned how to make money from controlled prices, export controls or state sales of natural resources, and if those same business elites took over politics, then crony capitalism became permanent. Few of the successes and few of the failures were either predictable or predicted. In 1990, nobody guessed that Estonia would become a mini-tiger, or that Russia would be ruled by a cabal of billionaires. Nobody imagined that Poland would be a more stable member of the European Union than Hungary. On the contrary, the predictions for Poland, a country with a spotty history of democracy in the past and, at that time, one of the worst-performing economies in the region, were overwhelmingly negative. One writer in Foreign Affairs predicted in 1990 that a rapid transition to capitalism would produce “instability” in Poland, largely because, he implied, Polish democracy would soon lead to the return to power of a 1930s-style right-wing mob. As it turned out, a given country’s immediate pre-war history was not necessarily a good guide to its post-1989 success. Nor was its religion, its geography or its size. When examined closely, neither the alleged Catholic-Protestant divide nor the mythical “Asiatic” cult of the dictator stands up to scrutiny either. If religion is so important, why has Catholic-Protestant Hungary lately fallen into such a funk? If geography is so important, why has post-communist Mongolia become such a roaring economic success? The once-profound divisions between culturally identical East and West Germany cannot be explained away so simply either. So what, then, was the source of success and failure? Why were some able to carry out radical reforms while others were not? As it turned out, there were a few historical experiences that mattered a good deal, but they weren’t necessarily the ones that anybody pointed to in 1990. It made a big difference, for example, whether a country had been dominated by Soviet-style communism for 40 years or for 70 years. A clear line divides the region into two camps: those countries which were part of the Soviet bloc from 1945, and those which joined in 1918. This line not only separates the old Warsaw pact bloc from the Soviet Union, it also puts the Baltic states and Western Ukraine on one side, Russia and Eastern Ukraine on the other. This was a line, in other words, between societies that still contained people who had been brought up with pre-Soviet values and those that did not. prospect april 2013 There was also a difference between those countries that had an active opposition movement in the 1970s and 1980s, or at least an active and self-organising civil society, and those that did not. Slovenly and inefficient dictators like General Jaruzelski of Poland produced more active citizens than those, like Nicolae Ceausescu, who were still using terror to suppress their critics in 1988 and 1989. I f I were to isolate the single most important factor in determining whether a given post-communist country succeeded or failed in its transition to liberal capitalism, in fact, I would point to this: the existence, or absence, of an alternative elite. And by alternative elite I mean something specific. Not just a few economists, but a larger class or group of people who had worked together in the past, who had adopted an alternative set of values and who, by 1989 or 1990, were at least somewhat prepared for government. In Poland, the alternative elite existed because memories of a pre-communist past were recent enough to be real; because of a national tradition of resistance, most recently against Nazi occupation but historically against the Russian and Prussian empires; because the Polish economy was so full of holes that black marketeers—i.e. small capitalists—could operate freely; because borders were relatively open so that these black marketeers could trade; because those relatively open borders meant that people knew how life was lived in the western half of Europe; because the Polish Catholic church was not destroyed, and thus it could provide both an alternative source of values as well as a physical space for opposition to meet; because Cardinal Wojtyla was elected Pope John Paul II, and because he came to Poland in 1979 and drew mass crowds; and so on. Similar lists could be made for Hungary, East Germany, indeed for Lithuania and Estonia. Some of these contributing factors might be connected to a coun- prospect april 2013 does eastern europe still exist? 39 © Chris Niedenthal//Time Life Pictures/Getty Images Polish shoppers crowd into a newly-opened supermarket to stock up on desirable and expensive goods imported from Germany in 1990 try’s particular historical destiny, culture and location. But some of them were accidents. If the existence of an alternative elite was important, however, it was even more important for that alternative elite to have a clear sense of direction. And in the case of the central Europeans, there was never any doubt about this direction. When working as a journalist in the region in 1989 and 1990, people told me again and again, “we want to be normal.” And “normal” in 1989 and 1990, meant Western Europe: Western European democracy and capitalism, a Western European welfare state, Western European political parties, Western European media. There was no desire for experimentation: the question was “do we move faster towards Europe?” or “do we move slower towards Europe?” Those who moved faster avoided being stuck halfway. Another important ingredient of success was the lack of natural resources. And here I am not referring merely to the famously negative impact that oil and gas have on exchange rates, entrepreneurship and economic diversification. I am talking about the enormously negative impact that natural resources have on political life in new democracies. If there are no oil wells to steal, then no one will try to manipulate the political system so as to make it easier to steal them. There are one or two “oligarchs” in Poland and the Czech republic, mostly connected to the gas industry, but there isn’t a whole class of them, dedicated to corrupting the entire state in order to enrich themselves, as there are in Russia, and to some extent in Ukraine and Kazakhstan. There are other ingredients of success, such as having a free press, or even a free-ish press, which aspired to some higher standards of reporting, and which could ensure a free flow of reliable information. But this, of course, was a by-product of the alternative elite and its samizdat publishing wing. It was also very important that the new rulers of the new democracies had, at least to some degree, thought about what they wanted to do before they arrived. All through the 1980s, Polish, Czech and Hungarian economists had been holding informal meetings to discuss how it might be possible, someday, to privatise and decentralise their economies. At the time, these were pipe dreams: all of the conversations were theoretical, and this particular group of economists was thought to be somewhat bizarre and perhaps rather fringe. But when they suddenly and unexpectedly got the opportunity to carry out their plans, they were ready. Leszek Balcerowicz, Poland’s first finance minister, was one of them. Václav Klaus, until recently the Czech president, was another. But again, I suspect that this was once again the byproduct of the fact that all of them had a clear sense of direction. Where do we want to go? Western Europe. How do we want to get there? Fast. Much less important, as it turned out, were the precise techniques deployed. In particular, the exact method of privatisation, although this was a central topic of debate and discussion at the time wasn’t in the end nearly as important as the speed with which privatisation was conducted, and the perceived fairness of the process. Voucher privatisation, stock market privatisation, all of these could work, as long as they were conducted more or less transparently. In retrospect, no one was happy with the way privatisation went in their country. But those who were most unhappy were the ones who didn’t do it at all. Perhaps, then, I could add one more element to the picture. Whoever took charge, in 1990, had to understand the need for a radical break with the past. Former communists, such as Ion Iliescu, president of Romania in 1990 were generally worse at understanding this than former opposition leaders, such as Tadeusz Mazowiecki, who was prime minister of Poland in that same year. It was also very good if whoever took charge did so in an atmosphere of serious crisis. Poland in 1990 seemed to be deteriorating rapidly. Hungary, by contrast, wasn’t that bad, and successive Hungarian governments have long felt that all they need to do is make a few adjustments. In practice, this means that Hungary has never been able to shake its addiction to borrowing and budget deficits. Worse, Hungarians seem permanently sunk in perpetual gloom—though maybe they were always like that. A close Hungarian friend of mine, when confronted with the imminent eurozone crisis, metaphorically threw his hands up in the air. Why is it, he wailed, that “every club we join immediately falls apart?” But I’m not Hungarian, I’m American, and therefore I’m more interested in the optimistic half of this story. Let’s step back for a minute: it’s now 2013. Who would have thought, in 1989, that the eastern half of Europe would survive a financial storm better than the western half? And who would imagine that I would be able to say that there are now more lessons the west can learn from the east than vice versa? A few months ago, I made this point at a conference in Vienna, to a crowd which listened indulgently but unbelievingly, and fired mocking questions at me afterwards. I’d established the fact that Eastern Europe as a meaningful political concept had disappeared, and that the nations of what used to be Eastern Europe have gone their separate ways. Everyone nodded, but didn’t draw the obvious conclusions. And no wonder: in Austria, as in the UK, the notion of “Eastern Europe” does live on as a kind of prejudice. When newspa- does eastern europe still exist? prospect april 2013 © David Turnley/CORBIS 40 Bucharest, December 1989: Romanians celebrate the end of Nicolae Ceausescu’s government pers use the expression “Eastern European,” it is usually code for backward, primitive and possibly criminal. Murder suspects are often described as having “Eastern European accents”—as if speakers of a Latin language like Romanian or a Slavic language like Bulgarian all sounded alike. There is also a tendency, especially in the UK, to think of Eastern Europeans as belonging to one of two categories: Romanian and Bulgarian labourers, on the one hand—whom we want to keep out of the country because they might work harder than the natives—and on the other Russian oligarchs, for whom all doors are opened and to whom everything is for sale, and around whom are clustered dozens of British lawyers, bankers, real estate agents and other middlemen who see the possibility of profits. That kind of prejudice makes it more difficult for the western half of the European continent to draw any lessons from what we used to call “the East.” But it’s also foolishly short-sighted: within Europe there are several countries that managed to turn around utterly disastrous economies, evade the temptations of the farright and the far-left and which have carried out major structural and political reforms during periods of political tumult. Better still, one or two of them recently repeated this feat for a second time, during one of the worst international banking crises in recent memory. It is worth looking closer at the very instructive comparison between Latvia and Greece. In the wake of the 2008 crash, the Latvian government slashed public spending, fired a third of its civil servants and reduced salaries of those remaining while refusing to inflate the currency. The country’s GDP declined dramatically, falling 24 per cent in two years. But as Latvia’s economy plunged in 2010 and 2011, there were no strikes, no protests, no fury: the Latvians, who have been occupied by others for so long, see economic viability as a matter of life and death, a key component of national sovereignty. Not only did the nation accept the need for a change of course, it re-elected the prime minister who imposed it. And then the recovery began. Latvian GDP is now growing at more than 5 per cent, and the budget deficit has been dramatically reduced. In Greece, by contrast, relatively smaller budget cuts have led to a GDP decline of 18 per cent since the crisis began. They’ve also led to strikes and riots. The Greeks have voted their politicians out of office more than once, shown increased support for a fascist party to compete with the already existing far-left parties and thrown petrol bombs at banks. There are some technical explanations for the differences. Budget cuts were applied differently in Greece and Latvia. The Latvians hit bureaucrats hard, but pensioners less so. Perhaps more importantly, they also made the biggest cuts right away. As they learned in 1990, drawing out a crisis creates more pain over time. The Greeks, by contrast, have made cuts slowly and never convinced either their public or their creditors of their commitment. Bureaucrats are protected while pensioners suffer. Uncertainty persists. People and capital continue to flee the country and although the crisis has stabilised it has not been resolved. There are also political differences. Latvian politicians did explain to their fellow citizens the real reason for the cuts. They reminded them of the need to preserve national sovereignty. By contrast, none of the Greek parties has found a way to persuade Greek voters of the need to change their way of thinking. Instead, anti-German rhetoric is at an all-time high. Why then don’t the Greeks instead try earnestly to learn from the Latvians, as the Latvians once tried earnestly to learn from the French or the British? I suspect the explanation lies, as I say, prospect april 2013 does eastern europe still exist? in the misleading term “Eastern Europe,” and in those connotations of backwardness and crime. But the world changes in strange ways, and one of the strangest is the way in which that same exact term—“Eastern Europe”— now seems to have a completely different connotation when used in places like Tunisia or Libya. I’ve been to North Africa several times since the Arab spring, and every time I’m there I find that people there are extremely interested in me—but not because I’m American, or because I’m a journalist. They are interested in me because I have a longstanding connection to Poland, a country which they regard as a role model. D oes Eastern Europe hold insights not only for Western Europe, but for other parts of the world, North Africa in particular? The culture of Eastern Europe and the culture of North Africa are not similar. There is no alternative elite in North Africa of the kind which existed in Poland and Hungary, and the majority does not believe that “normal” means “West European” (although a minority does, as I’ve learned in both Libya and Tunisia). Although there were dissenters of many kinds in pre-revolutionary Egypt, they were largely suppressed, except for those surrounding the mosque and the football pitch. The result: the Muslim Brotherhood was the only political “party” with any organisational capacity after 2011. And Egyptian football clubs are the only organisations that can reliably be counted on to create major protests, as they have recently. Yet neither the Muslim Brotherhood nor the football fans arrived in power with any clear ideas about Egypt’s economy. There was no political or economic equivalent to the Polish and Hungarian economists who were plotting the post-communist future in the 1980s either there or in Libya, where the economy had been largely organised for the personal benefit of the Gaddafi family, and where a new leadership—drawn from the exile community and the leaders of the armed revolution—is now starting to analyse the country, starting largely from scratch. In Tunisia, the friends and relatives of the old ruling family are still thought to pull most of the economic strings. Radical change is not in their interests. In many Arab states the opportunity to start making changes arrived only in 2011 and the alternative elite is only just now beginning to form. These revolutions, in other words, have only just begun. And yet there are similarities, parallels and common experiences worth exploring. Certainly I’ve found, while talking with Tunisians, Egyptians and more extensively with Libyans that they are extremely interested in the Polish experience, though not because Poland’s past history resembles their own. They are interested because the issues they face are so similar. Here’s an example: in 1990 Polish journalists, like their North African counterparts, had to create newspapers and new radio stations from scratch; had to privatise the state media; had to figure out how to write libel laws that would neither penalise journalists too much nor allow newspapers to publish irresponsibly; and had to write new laws governing the airwaves as well as laws on media ownership, designed to prevent monopolies. The solutions they found were probably quite different from those that the Libyans will eventually discover, but the outlines of the various problems are the same. As a result, when I was in Libya last year, I discovered that the journalists all wanted to hear how the Poles had done it. The Polish experience is also important in another sense. The British, the French, the Italians and above all the Americans are not necessarily the most popular nations in Egypt or Tunisia, and 41 the World Bank is not the most beloved of institutions. Not everyone wants to be told what do by the friends of their former dictator, or by their former colonists. It is much more palatable, and indeed much more relevant, to take advice from a Czech or a Serbian who has already lived through a revolution and witnessed its aftermath. Instead of producing a stern lecture about the freedom of the press, a Slovak can tell stories about what it’s really like to be a journalist in a barren media landscape, where all of the major television stations are still controlled by members of the old regime and where freedom of information is a theory, not a practice. Instead of a theoretical harangue about the rule of law, they can explain how hard it is to get judges to think differently about their relationship with politicians, and how hard it is to find lawyers willing to relearn their trade from scratch. Counter-intuitively, the lessons which the former Eastern Europe can bring to North Africa are specific rather than general. The Poles and the Slovaks can’t tell the Egyptians much that is relevant about, say, the place of religion in contemporary politics. Their experience is useful not as theory but as practice—here’s how we wrote our new commercial code. Here’s how we reformed our police force. Here’s how we helped teachers bring a new curriculum to schools. Or, of course, here’s how we failed to deal adequately with the policeman of the old regime, here’s how we failed to insure that privatisation was fair, and here’s how we failed to prevent our newspaper industry from being taken over by oil and gas oligarchs who push their personal and business agendas. Learning about what didn’t work is sometimes as instructive as learning about what did. But before you are able to learn anything, you have to be willing to listen—and this leads to a paradox. In most of the world, the transformation of Poland, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, the Baltic States and even Romania and Bulgaria are regarded as examples of miraculous success: peaceful transitions from dictatorship to democracy, examples to be studied and copied and learned from. This is an achievement which should be placed at the centre of European foreign policy. At this time of financial uncertainty, this a sliver of hope which Europe can offer to the rest of the world: here are some paths to success. If that doesn’t happen, and I’m afraid that it won’t, this is because in Europe, the term “Eastern European” is still in use, with all of the old connotations and all of the old prejudices attached. So let’s abolish the term, or rather confine it to history. Eastern Europe, in the old sense, no longer exists. “I’m saving all my work until they force me to do it” 42 prospect april 2013 Apes and atheism The scientist Frans de Waal has some entertaining stories about chimps but he is too tolerant of religion ac grayling I t was once regarded as a cardinal sin to anthropomorphise in discussing non-human animal emotion. The danger of “reading in” empathy, sympathy, concern and (perish the thought!) altruism was so great, and the conservative impulse to regard all behaviour as explicable solely in terms of food-finding and gene-bequeathing so compelling, as to make generations of ethologists shut their eyes to anything else. The person who, almost single-handedly, has effected a revolution in this regard is the primatologist Frans de Waal, whose new book, The Bonobo and the Atheist: In Search of Humanism Among the Primates, has just been published. For de Waal there are no sharp differences between the great apes and their human cousins in respect of emotions and intentions. Indeed he sees no difference, only a continuum, in the emotional lives of mammals in general; he freely cites empirical work showing that rats and elephants also display concern for others with varying degrees of obviousness. Chimpanzees and macaques take this even further. As a result it is now far more acceptable to talk of prosocial behaviour among apes in the same emotional terms as we apply to humans. In his writings de Waal goes the whole way, unapologetically describing the apes he studies as feeling grief, anxiety, resentment, jealousy, sympathy, concern, affection, need and regret. His big point is that human morality is an outgrowth of the capacity for empathy evident not just in other apes, but in mammals in general; and with colleagues he explores the neurological basis of empathy in the mirror neurons which enable mammals to represent—indeed, to literally experience themselves—what others are experiencing. Uncommonly among scientists, de Waal is knowledgeable about philosophy, especially moral philosophy, which interests him because of his thesis about the origin of morality in the mammalian capacity for empathy. Most scientists think of philosophy in the form of its “postmodern” aberration, which is what they encounter at its scientifically ignorant and posturing worst. De Waal takes the better forms of philosophy seriously, and engages with it well; his strictures on utilitarianism—the “greatest good for the greatest number” theory—are both swingeing and apt, not least in being convincingly backed by empirical observation of primate behaviour. In the opening chapter of his 2005 book, Our Inner Ape: The Best and Worst of Human Nature, de Waal tells the story of Kuni, a bonobo chimp who cared for a starling that had stunned itself by flying into the glass wall of her enclosure. She climbed a tree to lift the bird up so that it could fly away; when it was unable to get far, she watched over it until it recovered and flew off. In other anecdotes of cross-species empathy de Waal tells of whales trying to lift AC Grayling is a philosopher. His latest book is “The God Argument: The Case Against Religion and For Humanism” (Bloomsbury) an unconscious human from the bottom of a tank, of chimps sympathising with injured people, and (of course) dogs reacting sensitively to the moods of their human companions. It is hard to resist the implication that de Waal draws from this, that empathy is essential to the social character of social animals, and a more than sufficient evolutionary source of human morality. What else could underlie bonding, mutual awareness of needs, sharing and co-operation, and the readiness with which group harmony is restored after outbursts of conflict, than recognition of the emotional states of others? His early empirical work in primate ethology was on competition, deception and conflict resolution among chimpanzees (his first book Chimpanzee Politics, published in 1982, reported the outcome), and it led naturally to this view about the emotional continuum with human beings. The view was highly controversial at first, but de Waal has been progressively winning the argument ever since; and by extending his ethological studies to include elephants he has secured the ground for saying that empathy is the evolutionary basis of human morality. Surveying the case he makes, it is now hard to see how his forerunners in ethology could have been so stiff-necked about “anthropomorphising,” given every other obvious continuity between humans and the rest of mammalian nature. Indeed one does not have to have spent years studying chimpanzees to see the point— one has only to live with a dog. De Waal’s new book, The Bonobo and the Atheist, addresses a matter that he says he had left insufficiently clear in earlier books. The move from descriptions of primate co-operation and conflict resolution to human morality might be a natural one for many people, but to those for whom morality and religion are inextricably linked it is not so obvious. His book is intended to explain the point to them. The book is, however, an oddity. Besides the stated aim it is a mixture of memoir, a repetition of de Waal’s now familiar views, and a hostile discussion of the “new atheist” movement. The result is a somewhat unfocused ramble, the main point of which, apart from rehearsing the already-won “apes R us” argument, appears to be to distance himself from the “new atheist” attack on religion. He is himself an atheist, he tells us; as an educated scientific Dutchman from secular Europe where religion is a minority if sometimes noisy sport, what else could he be? But he does not like the “new atheists,” and takes the view that religion, though false, has a role, and should be left alone. Why, he asks, are the “new atheists” evangelical about their cause? “Why would atheists turn messianic?” He cannot see why Sam Harris, Richard Dawkins, the late Christopher Hitchens, Daniel Dennett and others attack religion and believers, and why they robustly and even aggressively argue the case for atheism. He can see why the advocates of religion do it; the more believers, he says, the more money they get. (Here, as a sympathiser, he should perhaps recognise that some religionists sincerely believe apes and atheism 43 © Cyril Ruoso/ JH Editorial/Minden Pictures/Corbis prospect april 2013 A bonobo chimpanzee; there are no sharp differences between human and primate emotions, says Frans de Waal they have the Truth that will save us, and might be trying to be helpful; not all of them want money.) Well: here is the answer to de Waal’s question. Some atheists are evangelical because religious claims about the universe are false, because children are brainwashed into the ancient superstitions of their parents and communities, because many religious organisations and movements have been and continue to be antiscience, anti-gays and anti-women, because even if people are no longer burned at the stake they are still stoned to death for adultery, murdered for being “witches” or abortion doctors, blown up in large numbers for being Shias instead of Sunnis… One could go on at considerable length about the divisions, conflicts, falsehoods, coercions, disruptions, miseries and harm done by religion, though the list should be familiar; except, evidently, to de Waal. He might respond with the usual points: on one side the char- ity, art and solace inspired by religion, and on the other side Hitler and Stalin as examples of the crimes of atheism. And the usual replies have wearily to be given: non-believers also engage in charity and make great art, and their love and care for others provides solace too; and the totalitarianisms are just alternatives of the great religions at their worst, possessing their own versions of the One Truth to which all must bow down. (Incidentally, Hitler was not an atheist—”Gott mit uns,” (God with us”) said the legend on Wehrmacht belt buckles—and Stalin was educated in a seminary, where evidently he picked up a few tricks.) An anxiety to protect religion from invidious comparisons with science leads de Waal to devote several pages to how fallible human scientists are, suffering confirmation and disconfirmation biases (that is, looking for the evidence that will support their pet hypotheses while ignoring counter-evidence), gripped by 44 apes and atheism professional jealousy and rivalry, quashing new findings that upset their cherished successes in discovery, and the like. He then says, “Science is a collective enterprise with rules of engagement that allow the whole to make progress even if its parts drag their feet.” And that surely is the essential point. By contrast, religion is a collective enterprise with rules of engagement designed to make no progress and to punish those who wish to vote with their feet. Interestingly, de Waal himself tells us why his view of religion is so benign, moving him to say that it is no more harmful than the false beliefs we have in the cinema when we know that Leonardo di Caprio does not drown on the Titanic but we still shed a tear for the character he plays. The reason is that he was brought up a Catholic. Oh those Catholics! How well they know to sink the barb so deep that it cannot come out. Protestantism has never achieved either the psychological finesse of Catholicism, or the total swamping effect of Islamic belief, in exerting a hold over the human mind, other than by fear and bullying, which are the instruments of Calvinism, or the barefaced promises of wealth and success which bring the singing arm-wavers to today’s megachurches. He tells us that the Roman Catholic church never formally proscribed Darwin’s Origin of Species, as if this exculpated them from every other effort made to resist the march of science, as for example in burning Giordano Bruno at the stake and forcing Galileo to recant on pain of the same fate, both for accepting the Copernican geocentric view. De Waal insists that religion’s opponents are wrong to say that if religion had its way, we would still believe that the earth is flat—his reason being that the ancient Greeks already knew that the earth is a sphere. What then does he make of the fact that in 1615 Cardinal Bellarmine warned a scientifically minded monk against the Copernican view, on the grounds that Psalm 104 explicitly states that God has “fixed the foundations of the earth that it might never be moved”? If de Waal thinks this is all “mere history,” let him look around at the creationists and intelligent design “theorists” trying to subvert the teaching of biology in today’s schools, opposing stem cell research, preventing girls from going to school in some Muslim countries, persecuting homosexuals—and so on again through the familiar litany. And he still wonders why some atheists are evangelical? In any case he has the nature of the debate wrong. Atheists, whether new or old (the “new” is a canard), are mostly not interested in pursuing the metaphysical debate about whether the universe contains or has outside it supernatural entities or agencies of presents Michael Sandel in conversation with AC Grayling prospect april 2013 some kind—gods and goddesses, fairies and so forth. As Jonathan Swift said and de Waal quotes, who expects to reason a person out of something they were not reasoned into? Their militancy—for such indeed it sometimes is, for the good reasons sketched above— is about secularism, not metaphysics; it is about the place of the religious voice in education and the public square where it is at best an irrelevance and at worst a cancer. For historical reasons the religious voice is vastly over-amplified in the public square —in England where 3 per cent of the population go regularly to services in the state-established Church, 26 bishops (plus a number of life peer ex-bishops) can sit in the House of Lords, voting on legislation that affects the whole population (not just of England but the United Kingdom at large). There are at least four religious programmes on the publicly funded BBC every day. There are prayers before each day’s sittings of both chambers of Parliament. An “act of worship” is statutorily required in state schools each day. Again one could go dismayingly on. This is one reason why children give up believing in the tooth fairy and Father Christmas, but the equally contentless belief in gods and goddesses (or at least one such) falters on, so reinforced is it in these publicly supported ways. Only think: the dates of English school and university spring terms are set according to when Easter falls, and the date of Easter is set by the phases of the moon—this in the 21st century! This seemingly trivial point is the tip of an iceberg of the way that the superstitions of our prehistoric ancestors still distort lives today. Now, de Waal invokes the mirror neuron-generated capacities inherited from our evolutionary mammalian ancestors to explain the basis of morality, and with this I agree. But one would not want the evolutionary history of all aspects of our psychology to entail that, merely in virtue of that fact, they should all be left as they are. A large part of moral reflection is devoted to overcoming or tempering the evolved capacities for aggression, greed, concupiscence and partiality that disrupt rather than enhance community living. These, too, are inherited along with capacities for empathy and concern and what these make possible in the creation of social bonds. The chimp and bonobo stories in de Waal’s writings are, as always, entertaining and charming. These animals have an emotional life not too distant from humans, but free of the perversions and limitations of sexuality that have been forced upon us by the religions de Waal defends. His stories make me think that were reincarnation true, quite a few people would not mind being reborn as bonobos. Join Prospect for an evening of debate between two of the world’s leading thinkers as they discuss markets and morals, the role of religion in public life, the future of liberal democracy and what philosophy can offer modern politics Wednesday 8th May, 7pm, Ondaatje Theatre, Royal Geographical Society Prospect subscribers: £12.50 General ticket: £16.50 General ticket + 3 month subscription to Prospect: £20 For more information and to purchase tickets visit: www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/events 'R\RXEHOLHYHLQKHUHDQGQRZ not the hereafter? 7KH%ULWLVK+XPDQLVW$VVRFLDWLRQLVWKHQDWLRQDO FKDULW\ZRUNLQJRQEHKDOIRIQRQUHOLJLRXVSHRSOHZKR VHHNWROLYHDQHWKLFDODQGIXOÀOOLQJOLIHRQWKHEDVLVRI UHDVRQDQGKXPDQLW\:HSURPRWHKXPDQLVPZRUNIRU DVHFXODUVWDWHDQGSURYLGHFRPPXQLW\VHUYLFHVOLNHRXU LQFUHDVLQJO\SRSXODUKXPDQLVWIXQHUDOV$OORIRXUZRUNLV IXQGHGE\SHRSOHOLNH\RXZKREHOLHYHLQDIDLUHUVRFLHW\ DQGDPRUHKXPDQHIXWXUH:HXUJHQWO\QHHGWRUDLVH PRUHIXQGVLIWKDWYLWDOZRUNLVWRFRQWLQXH Here is my urgent gift to help make the British Humanist Association’s crucial work possible. 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The 140 pages are the detailed notes of a threeweek trip by George Brown, MP and deputy leader of the Labour party, as well as former foreign secretary, to meet political leaders across the Middle East and Gulf from 29th December 1969 to 19th January 1970. The account of his visit, which features moments of high comedy (see over), transcribed with more vividness, incredulity and exasperation than any government scribe would commit to paper today, includes reports of his conversations with Golda Meir, prime minister of Israel, Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, the shah of Iran, and Gamal Abdel Nasser, president of Egypt. In 23 days, Brown visited eight countries and attended more than 100 meetings. Part of the interest of the account is the freshness and intimacy of the conversations between the leaders and Brown. The MP (who died in 1985) was not formally representing the UK on the trip. But he was still a leading figure in the party, despite the excessive drinking which had contributed to his exit from Harold Wilson’s government (it was Brown’s agent who coined the phrase “tired and emotional” as a euphemism for intoxication, to describe his client’s state after a long flight). The accounts, which fill out the more formal picture presented by government papers already available under the old 30-year-release rule, appear to owe some of their colour to the observations of Gwyn Morgan, an irreverent Welshman and senior Labour party official who accompanied Brown on the trip. The deeper interest, however, is in the portrait of the region in the final year of Britain’s role as the pre-eminent foreign influence. Prime minister Harold Wilson had declared in 1968 that he would withdraw troops from “East of Suez” by 1971 (including Malaysia and Singapore), marking the effective end of Britain’s colonial ambitions in the region. In 1970, British officials still enjoyed easy access at the highest levels across the region, but were confronted with conflicts and disputes they had little power to solve. Much is barely recognisable now; the extraordinary transformation of the Arab states by oil wealth had barely begun. Yet many of the themes—and even the language—of Brown’s trip are claustrophobically the same today, while the roots of the conflicts which have proved intractable for four decades are clear. The conversations were dominated by Israel’s 1967 annexation of what is now called the West Bank and by the way that Britain was hemmed in on all sides by expectations and recriminations. In meeting after meeting, Brown was blamed by Arab ministers for the 1917 Balfour Declaration, which supported the creation of Bronwen Maddox is the editor of Prospect “a national home for the Jewish people,” in Palestine, and at the same time by Israelis for his advocacy of UN Security Council Resolution 242, passed in the wake of the 1967 war, which called for Israel’s withdrawal from all territories occupied in the conflict. At dinner with Golda Meir, “her attitude could be summarised in her own words as ‘not an inch of territory will I give up,’” the account records. Echoing the attempts of the British government to pick an increasingly impossible path through the region’s allegiances, Brown adroitly tried to appeal to all sides, citing his pedigree as an oppressed Irishman to Palestinians in Ramallah, and in Israel, the fact that his wife was Jewish. He commented throughout the trip that he had “never ceased to oppose the existence of the state of Israel at the time of its creation,” having argued instead for “a federation of the whole of Palestine.” But, he added, “there came a point in time when you had to come to terms with what existed.” When Iraqi ministers began to quote the Balfour Declaration at him, “Mr. Brown exploded and said that if one was going to quote history one should at least quote it accurately,” the account reads. “He went on to recite how in 1948 it was the Soviet Union and America who had pressed for the creation of a Zionist state and that Britain had not supported this.” The Iraqi meetings were particularly antagonistic. Brown told the minister of culture and information that, “‘So far as the British were concerned, and Europe in general, the public hanging of Jews in Iraq had done tremendous damage to the image of Iraq.’ The minister looked most uncomfortable and replied, ‘I appreciate your advice as a friend, and I wonder if you could tell me how we can obtain more help from the BBC Arabic Service.’ And on that evasive note the meeting ended.” More widely, Brown accused Arab leaders of a central part in perpetuating the deadlock and suffering. “The [Palestinian] refugee problem could have been solved by now,” he told Iraq’s foreign minister, “and the reason it had not been solved was that the Arabs wanted it to remain an essential part of the political problem.” As a socialist, he said, he “regretted deeply the terrible Report of Brown’s meeting with the shah of Iran, 13th January, 1970 george of arabia 47 © Associated Newspapers /Rex Features prospect april 2013 George Brown: the former foreign secretary toured the region in the year before Britain pulled out its military forces conditions under which the refugees existed.” According to the record, the minister replied that, “It did not matter a hang about the suffering of the Palestinian refugees. What had to be taken into account was the fight for the homeland.” Brown noted at one point that the mayor of Ramallah had told him that if necessary, the Arabs could wait 100 years for a solution. But in a refugee camp he had met “some of the constituents of the mayor, poverty-stricken, scantily clad, hopeless and in despair, and they, unlike the mayor, could not afford to wait a hundred days let alone a hundred years.” His frustration made few inroads. In words that have proved prescient, the Kuwaiti minister of oil and finance responded that “in his view there was no possibility of a short-term solution and the dispute was likely to drag on for years and years.” A second theme is the ambitions of Iran as a regional power, with an eye to the imminent British military retreat from the Gulf, not least from Bahrain, to which it laid claim. “Mr. Brown began by saying how pleased he was to see the shah looking so well,” the account runs. “In truth he looked a little bit drawn and pale.” The meeting at the Niavaran Palace, with its chandeliers, mirrored walls and 30ft high ceilings, was steeped in time-honoured Iranian disdain for its Arab neighbours. Iranians, the shah said drily, “considered themselves to be experts on the subject of the Iraqis,” and “in everything that the Iraqis did, it was possible to see the hand of the Soviet Union.” (His prime minister had previously told Brown that “the Shaikhdoms… were living in conditions of thirteenth century feudalism.”) The shah held that “the trouble with the Arabs was that they could stir themselves up into a frenzy by their own oratory and vituperation,” adding that “this was what committed President Nasser to the Six Day War [in 1967].” The shah, reinstated to power in 1953 by the US with Meeting Nasser in Cairo, 4th January, 1970 The president of Iraq, in Baghdad, 11th January, 1970 48 george of arabia prospect april 2013 British help, was direct about the ties with Britain. “Iran did not hoard hard money,” the shah said. “She spent it and any increase in revenue from oil would almost certainly be spent on arms purchases from Britain.” A third theme is the fear of Soviet-backed socialism and for the region to be a proxy for the cold war. “It was clear that the Bahrainis considered Nasser an instrument of the Soviet Union,” the account says. Nasser, in a meeting full of sparring, warned Brown that it was “really quite dangerous” to visit the British ships trapped in the Great Bitter Lake of the Suez Canal (see below). The coup in Libya of 1st September, 1969, led by Muammar Gaddafi, then a 27-year-old army captain, runs as a thread of nervousness through many of the meetings. Shaikh Ahmad, foreign minister of Kuwait, offered that he had met the leaders of the Libyan revolution at the recent summit in Rabat, “and they were mere boys,” implying that they would not last. That, at least, proved a gross misjudgement of the ability of the region’s leaders to hold on to power and to keep their countries and their conflicts immobilised in many ways—the reason why this account is still so resonant today. At the beginning of the war between Israel and the combined forces of the United Arab Republic (now Egypt), Jordan and Syria in June 1967, the UAR sank ships at both ends of the Suez Canal. That blocked the waterway and caught 14 ships travelling north through it at the time. The ships, four of them British, were trapped in the Great Bitter Lake section of the canal, and were to remain there until 1975. In the following passage (transcribed with the original punctuation), one bank of the lake is described as belonging to Israel, which took the Sinai peninsula during the war. get Mr. Challis of the B.B.C. to agree that there was really no story in what had happened that morning. After another five minutes Mr. Brown issued a final ultimatum and said that if there were no car in ten minutes he was going to hold a press conference, announce the reasons for his departure and get the next plane out of Cairo. Mr. El Feki became even more agitated when Mr. Brown instructed Miss Elliott to ring up the Embassy and find out the time of the next plane out of Cairo. Miss Elliott left the room to give the impression that she was making this call. To Mr. El Feki’s great relief, two cars appeared within five minutes and the party departed at 8.30 a.m. Mr. El Feki telephoned Miss Elliott in a state of agitation and asked her to cancel her request to the British Embassy at once for fear of the press hearing of it. Miss Elliott promised she would do this although the call had in fact never been made in the first place. Mr. Brown and Mr. Morgan went in one car and Mr. Challis followed in his own car, chuckling at his story. Mr. Brown prophesied more disaster to come, probably in the shape of a puncture at some check-point, before they reached their destination. For the only time in his life Mr. Morgan was forced to concede that Mr. Brown really did have divine powers. At the very first check-point on the outskirts of Cairo the car in which they were travelling had a puncture. Mr. Brown and Mr. Morgan transferred to the car in which Mr. Challis was travelling and the immaculate Major Helmi removed the chauffeur of the second car and took over the wheel himself, still not using his gloves. Then began two and a quarter hours of absolute nightmare driving, with a total disregard for everything else on the road from large Sam missile trailers to children, dogs and chicken[s]. He drove at a speed which hardly ever went below 100 kph. One magnificent dog was killed without the flicker of an eyelid and thousands of Egyptians must have had their lives considerably reduced by fright. Eventually they reached the Great Bitter Lake after passing through very heavily guarded check-points and battalions of troops at battle stations in the battle area of the Ismailia side of the Great Bitter Lake. The party got on to one of the Canal launches and were taken on board the S.S. Port Invercargil where all the British crew members, both from Invercargil and the Scottish Star, were gathered. A boat was sent round to collect the captains of the other ships in the Lake, American, Czech, Polish and West German. There was a tremendously enthusiastic reception, very enjoyable discussion and buffet lunch was served. “At 7.30 a.m. Major Helmi, the escort from the Ministry of War, turned up at Shepheards Hotel [in Cairo], dressed immaculately and holding a pair of leather gloves, which he certainly never wore at any time during the day. Although Major Helmi had his gloves he did not have a car. Apparently he was under the impression that the Ministry for Foreign Affairs were providing the cars which the party had been using on previous days, whilst the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was under the impression that the Ministry of War were providing a military car. Mr. Brown was most agitated at this delay. Mr. El Feki was roused from his bed to which he had retired only three hours earlier after having met Dr. Horace King, Speaker of the House of Commons, who had arrived on a delayed flight in the early hours of the morning. Mr. El Feki tried to sort out what was by this time taking on, at least in Mr. Brown’s public utterances, the shape of a plot to sabotage the visit to the Bitter Lake. Mr. El Feki appeared dishevelled and slightly dopey from sleeping tablets, but with remarkable speed when informed by Mr. Morgan that Mr. Brown was actually ringing President Nasser’s office. The unfortunate Major Helmi had retired in the face of a torrent of abuse from Mr. Brown to make innumerable telephone calls to complement the innumerable telephone calls which were being made from a different telephone box by Mr. El Feki. Mr. Roland Challis, the B.B.C. correspondent resident in Cairo who had been given permission to accompany the party to Bitter Lake, was despatched to fetch his car which Mr. Brown threatened to get into and drive down towards the Suez Canal, daring anybody to stop him. Eventually Mr. Brown retired to his room to await the outcome of all this frantic activity. Mr. El Feki opened the door of Mr. Brown’s suite and asked for a whisky at 8.15 in the morning. Everyone there adjourned to the balcony overlooking the Nile where Mr. El Feki attempted to get Mr. Brown to agree that in a situation like this one had to be philosophical. In between attempts to assure Mr. Brown that there was no plot to prevent him from visiting the Bitter Lake, Mr. El Feki was doing his best to george of arabia 49 © getty images prospect april 2013 There then arrived two Egyptians, one was the Director of the Canal Shipping Agency, Mr. Sammy Samia. Mr. Brown asked the Captain of the Ship, Captain Hart, whether there were any problems. The Captain replied in the affirmative, saying that the Egyptians were now imposing a £25 landing fee on every individual who landed on the Egyptian side of the Lake, and this made it impossible for people to go to Cairo. Mr. Samia denied that such a charge existed. Mr. Brown said that whether it existed or not, he was only concerned with what happened from that moment on and promptly produced a form of agreement that there should be no such fee in the future which Mr. Samia and Mr. Brown formally sealed. Captain Hart was able to announce to the other Captains that this charge was now being removed. The only other request from the officers was that Mr. Brown, when he went to Israel, should try to persuade the Israelis to allow the ships to recover three launches that had broken away and drifted to the Israel bank. Without these launches, communications between the ships were extremely difficult. Mr. Brown agreed to do his best. The ship’s crew also urged Mr. Brown to appreciate how useless they felt their continued occupation of the ships to be. Mr. Brown said he was not sure that the Companies would necessarily be in agreement with all the crews but he sympathised with them a great deal. (Mr. Brown did in fact raise this matter with President Nasser at his second meeting with him and the President said that the crews could leave at any time.) On arrival at the ships Mr. Brown had been greeted by hooters of both the British and Polish ships sounding the victory sign. On departure the crews sang “For he’s a jolly good fellow” and there were genuine signs of deep appreciation for Mr. Brown’s efforts to visit the ships. Mr. Brown was told that the British Embassy had not sent a representative since June and the Ambassador himself had never been. The crew were particularly peeved by the lack of visit at Christmas time from a representative of the British Embassy, whereas visits had been made by the French and Polish Ambassadors respectively. In this regard Mr. Brown’s visit lifted British divers on a ship sunk in the Suez Canal during the 1967 war morale considerably and enabled the crew to feel a little more capable of holding their own with the ships of other nations. By this time it was quite clear that the party would have to move very speedily to get to Cairo in time for the 5pm meeting with President Nasser. Already a lunch appointment in Cairo with Mr. Haikal and Mr. Arafat, the leader of Al Fatah, had had to be cancelled. Mr. Brown insisted that the unfortunate but still immaculate Major Helmi should try to get a helicopter to fly the party back to Cairo. Mr. Challis, the B.B.C. correspondent, was most sceptical, pointing out that in his six months in the UAR he had never seen a helicopter in the sky, let alone been inside one. Mr. Brown merely said “If you want to ride by helicopter Brother, stick with me. If you want to go back with the Mad Major, get into the car and go.” Mr. Challis decided to sit it out. After a great deal of cajoling and bullying and telephone calls culminating in one to the Minister of War himself, a helicopter was promised. The party was driven about 20 miles towards the Ismailia road and in the village of Abou Hesseir were diverted from the main road onto a military airfield where a large helicopter was waiting on the tarmac with a crew lined up to receive Mr. Brown. The Air Commodore who was in charge of the whole station received the party and Mr. Brown, Mr. Morgan and a palpably stupefied Mr. Challis got on board what turned out to be the luxuriously furnished helicopter of President Nasser. They flew very low under radar to the old Cairo Airport. Mr. Brown was allowed to fly the helicopter for a matter of seconds, much to the consternation of Mr. Morgan and Mr. Challis. They landed safely and returned to the Hotel. Mr. Brown made his appointment with President Nasser.” To read the 140 page account of George Brown’s trip to the Middle East, go to www.prospectmagazine.co.uk 50 prospect april 2013 Russians once lived here Drink is emptying the country oliver bullough D riving towards the Russian village of Yeski on Christmas Eve was like entering a 19th-century painting. The unscarred snow stretched away to dense walls of conifers. Log houses clustered in the village centre. And, all the time, on the horizon, the strong vertical of the church bell tower gave a focus to the composition. If you wanted to invent a landscape that told viewers that they were in Russia, in an eternal Russia of smallholders and snow and Orthodox Christianity, this would be it. It is an illusion, however. The log houses are empty, their gardens without footsteps and their chimneys without smoke. The forest is advancing on the fields in armies of saplings. The church windows gape empty, and its onion domes are shattered. Yeski’s church is one of thousands built during Russia’s period of imperial glory, designed to lift the hearts of the peasants and trumpet the wealth of their lords. Now, its crumbling walls broadcast a different message, dire tidings of the country’s collapse. Only a run of scaffolding beside the bell tower hints that someone is at least trying to keep this church, and indeed the whole village, from collapsing altogether. In the 1980s, Yeski’s population numbered more than 2,000. It had three schools, hundreds of cattle and a collective farm. Now, it is home to 78 people, of whom almost half are pensioners. There are a couple of dozen cows. Any children here—I saw none—are bussed out for their education. “Most people are old, and families are rare; there are five of them here. There is no future, no work,” said Galina Antoshkina, 60, as we walked through the snow on her way to open the village shop. “Many people died, many people left. We are an ancient village, older than Moscow, but in five years time we’ll be gone. Yeski will exist only as a memory.” I did not mention it to Antoshkina but, by the standard of Russian villages, Yeski is pretty well off. It is in the Tver region and within an easy day’s drive of Moscow, so in the summer it will throng with holidaying Muscovites who have bought its houses as second homes. Its permanent population of 78 is healthy compared to the 20,000 Russian villages that were abandoned altogether between 1991 and 2010. Of the 133,000 still-inhabited villages in Russia, more than 80,000 had fewer than 100 inhabitants when the census-takers called. Of those, 35,000 others were home to fewer than 10 people, and will be dead too when the pensioners who live there succumb to old age and isolation. Russia’s rural depopulation is part of a broader demographic crisis whose consequences are so enormous that they are almost Oliver Bullough’s new book “The Last Man in Russia” will be published on 4th April by Allen Lane impossible to grasp. Beginning in the 1960s, life expectancy began to fall, while around the same time the birth rate dropped below the level needed to sustain the population. The problems accelerated after 1991, when the Soviet collapse destroyed much of the country’s economy, but they long pre-date it. According to official figures, deaths have exceeded births in Russia by 13m since 1992. There are still 143m people in Russia— a drop of 4m from the peak—but that total would not be nearly so high had large numbers of people from other ex-Soviet states not immigrated to escape the still-worse situation elsewhere. President Vladimir Putin has declared that it is his goal to stabilise the population at present levels, then gradually increase it once more. However, Demoscope Weekly, the respected and independent Russian demographic research organisation, predicts that by even the most optimistic—and, thus, least likely— predictions Russia cannot have more than 136m people by 2025, and 128m by 2050. The US Census Bureau forecasts that Russia will be home to just 109m people by the middle of the century, meaning that the faded superpower’s population will be smaller than that of Uganda. This affects every aspect of public life. Russian military strategy—not least when fighting the Germans during the second world war—has been forever based on the assumption that it has unlimited manpower. It no longer does. We in Britain agonise about having only 3.2 people of working age to support every pensioner, but Russia will have just two working-age adults per pensioner by 2026. A woman was waiting outside the two-storey log-built shop as Antoshkina and I walked up. While Antoshkina fumbled with the keys, the woman leaned forward and vomited quietly into the snow, then straightened up, panted, leaned over and vomited again, this time noisily and at length. When Antoshkina had the door open, the woman bought a 70cl bottle of vodka and walked out again, without saying a word. The shop’s fridge held just four cans of Fanta, a can of 7-Up and some pickled mushrooms, but its shelves held 15 bottles of vodka, four of brandy, nine of wine and two of the sparkling wine Russians call shampanskoye. With the woman gone, Antoshkina looked 51 russians once lived here at me and shrugged. “We don’t live, we survive,” she said. Russians have, of course, always been famous for liking their vodka. In pre-revolutionary villages drinking was the major form of entertainment, but it was restricted by the drinkers’ spending power. Peasants got rich, so they got drunk, so they got poor, so they got sober. In the latter Soviet years, when people had salaries and no one much minded whether they worked or not, such limits fell away. The production of spirits trebled between 1940 and 1980, and the consumption of all alcoholic drinks increased eightfold. The average Russian now drinks three times the volume of spirits drunk by a German, and five times that of a Portuguese (and that excludes consumption of moonshine, which does not make the statistics). Conspiracy theorists speculate that the Soviet state liked a drunken population, since this made it easier to control. That may be true, and it is certainly the case that the government was hooked on the revenue from alcohol as much as the population was hooked on the oblivion it gave. Taxes earned from drink were greater than the defence budget by the early 1970s. The trouble was, of course, that the same drinking that was financing the government was destroying the population. In 1965, the first year for which the Russian government presents statistics, 119,170 Russians died from “external causes,” the majority of which are connected to alcohol (car crashes, murder, suicide, poisoning, drowning). By 1995, that number had almost tripled. In 1965, 419,752 Russians died from problems with their cardiovascular system, which are overwhelmingly caused by drinking and smok- ing. By 1995, that number had more than doubled. Russia, therefore, doesn’t have so much a population problem as a vodka problem. And that is a symptom of something very troubling. When a nation decides to drink itself to oblivion, it has clearly—through civil war, repression, collectivisation, war, surveillance and exploitation—been abused past the limits of endurance. Mikhail Gorbachev is the only national leader to have made an effort to rid the country of this plague. He severely restricted access to alcohol, grubbing up vineyards and closing shops. Average life expectancy and the birth rate jumped, but Russians were furious and few policies did so much to undermine his popularity. Within seven years he was dethroned, his country had vanished and public health worsened catastrophically. Politicians attached to their careers have since been careful not to follow his lead. They focus instead on spending their petrodollars on vanity projects like the Sochi Winter Olympics, rather than trying to wean the nation off its favourite tipple. Vodka is available everywhere. The nearest town to Yeski is Bezhetsk (its population has fallen from 28,500 to 24,500 in the last decade) where one ordinary food shop had two three-metre long shelves full of vodka, another of brandy, another of assorted spirits, another of wine and a fridge full of beer. It had no bread. Politicians can point to recent improvements in the demographic picture to justify inaction. The relative prosperity brought by high oil prices and Putin’s increases in pensions and public salaries have helped push life expectancy to almost 69 years, still a little lower than Gorbachev’s achievement, but a post-Soviet high nonetheless (the average Briton, for comparison, can expect to live more than 80 years). An echo from the baby boom of the hope-filled and alcohollimited 1980s has pushed birth numbers up too (helped by Putin’s government increasing payments for a second child), and deaths outnumbered births last year by a mere 2,500—the best figure in decades. But the damage has been done, the cohort about to give birth to the next generation is half the size of the one before it, and the Russian population is set on a path of inexorable contraction. This slow decline of the Russian nation is a problem not only for Russia’s military, budget and economy but also for anyone who loves Russia and its culture. And among those people is Svetlana Melnikova, the woman responsible for the scaffolding on Yeski’s church. A formidable great-grandmother with a torrent of white hair, an angora head scarf and a black astrakhan coat, she invited me along on a tour of the ruined churches of the Tver region, hoping to show me how saving churches would help save the country. The church at Yeski: between 1991 and 2010, 20,000 Russian villages were abandoned all pictures © oliver bullough prospect april 2013 52 russians once lived here prospect april 2013 Left: Antoshkina in the village shop. “We don’t live. We survive.” Middle: Father Gennady takes confession on Christmas Day at Poreche. The fate of Russian churches has been a common concern for patriots since at least the 1970s. Artist Ilya Glazunov, who specialises in medieval battle scenes and other glorious national epics and who is patronised by Russians from Putin down, depicts the miseries of the country’s present via its derelict churches, the sky visible through their domes. Ironically, under the atheist Soviet system, churches that were not demolished were well preserved. They were by far the bestmade buildings for miles around and were used as storehouses, libraries or barns, often with minimal alteration, meaning many of their frescoes survived barely scathed. It was the closure of the collective farms that sealed their fate, since it took away any incentive to maintain them, which is a shortcut to collapse in the extreme Russian climate. Melnikova sees the country’s failure to do anything to protect its heritage as symbolic of the hypocrisy and corruption of a generation that professes higher ideals but is interested only in money. “Everyone now believes in God, they drive past in their jeeps and cross themselves. But they don’t give a rouble. The patriarchate does not give anything to old churches. If you open them, you have to pay a salary for a priest,” she said. Thousands of village churches—the precise number is unknown—are in a parlous state, so Melnikova has no illusions she alone can solve the problem. But, with the kind of determination shown by her dissident friends in the 1970s, she sees doing something as always better than doing nothing. “When the churches are in ruins, they are used as public toilets, young people drink beer in them. But when we restore them, the atmosphere changes. There is so much depression in the villages and when you repair the most beautiful building you give the village a centre,” she said. Russians, in Melnikova’s clear-eyed view, are disorientated, bewildered and disenfranchised. They are exploited by foreigners and betrayed by their compatriots. They have lost control of their own destiny and sunk into gloom as a result. Therefore, rather in the way you might advise a depressive to take up swimming just to get them out of the house, she wants to mobilise Russians to restore churches. “Russians need a higher goal. They will not live for sausage alone, for material things. That doesn’t interest them. The Soviet government understood this. They gave the youth a higher duty, the construction of communism. But this new government does not understand it. It just wants money. A Russian needs a spiritual idea, not a material one,” she said. “Diagnoses like ‘alcoholism’ no longer reflect the problem. What is going on today is more aptly described as ‘pervasive human degradation’” “The salvation of village churches could be a higher ideal for young people. They happily come to our volunteer days to work. What else have they got to do? They drink, they sit around, they take drugs, they have nothing. They are bored.” She is not alone in her gloomy assessment of the country’s young. According to a 2011 Unicef study, some 20 per cent of young Russians suffer from depression compared to an average of 5 per cent in western countries. The United Nations agency said 45 per cent of girls and 27 per cent of boys consider suicide. The situation is, if anything, yet more dreadful in rural areas. Collective farms could have become joint stock companies after 1991 but lacked capital and expertise. Subsidies are almost nonexistent compared to those available in western countries and prospect april 2013 russians once lived here 53 Right: Svetlana Melnikova of the Village Church Organisation. “When the churches are in ruins, they are used as public toilets” more than half the farmers who launched private enterprises have given up. In 1974, one in eight rural children were listed as having a congenital defect, most often because of alcohol in utero, according to anthropologists Grigory Ioffe, Tatyana Nefedova and Ilya Zaslavsky, but now the picture is far worse. In their book The End of Peasantry?, published in 2006, they write: “The situation is apparently past the point when diagnoses like ‘drinking,’ ‘binge drinking,’ and perhaps even ‘alcoholism’ reflect the true meaning of the problem. What is going on today is more aptly described as ‘pervasive human degradation,’ ‘profound degeneration of a genetic pool,’ and so on. While such qualifications may sound harsh, they are not off the mark at all.” It is this slide towards extinction that Melnikova wants to counter. She is herself not a regular churchgoer but believes church buildings and services provide centres for communities that are all but irreplaceable. Her Village Church Organisation has put a roof on the Yeski church, and will put in windows this year, keeping out the weather until a time comes when a full restoration is affordable. The operation will cost around £50,000. That would be small change for the Russian state, which is dropping £6.5bn on the Sochi Olympics—but is a massive expense for a shoestring group like hers which relies on donations and paid restoration jobs to finance its campaign. And is it worth it? “Yes, it’s good what she’s doing,” said Antoshkina, the shopkeeper. “She’s trying to help, and if the church is restored maybe people will come back to the village and there’ll be work again.” A glimpse of the future Melnikova is plotting for Yeski came the next day, Christmas Day, in the still more remote village of Poreche, which somehow kept its church open and functioning throughout the Soviet years. The ceiling might have been marbled with damp but the wood stoves kept out the cold, candles blazed beneath the icons, and a couple of dozen parishioners were present for the service and to receive communion and counsel from Father Gennady. Outside, a car had turned up to sell sausage to the faithful and a pair of friendly dogs begged scraps from anyone who bought some. In its unassuming way, Poreche looked warm and welcoming, like a community, while Yeski looked like a nuclear winter populated only by the alien skeletons of giant hogweed. And even if nothing comes of her work, and the 50 villages where she and her volunteers have struggled vanish anyway, at least the churches will remain. “These are monuments of Russian culture,” she said. “Look at the pyramids, and at Rome. They are still there and we need to do the same too. When the barbarians come, at least this way they will know Russians once lived here.” 54 prospect april 2013 Science Delusions of a “besotted technophile” Ray Kurzweil predicts that by 2029 scientists will have created conscious computers. Rubbish, says Raymond Tallis R eaders of How to Create a Mind: The Secret of Human Thought Revealed must be able to handle disappointment, although after running the gauntlet of a jacket plastered with plaudits for the author—“worldrenowned inventor, thinker and futurist” and a “restless genius”—they may be inclined to blame themselves. But they shouldn’t. The recipe for minds is withheld and human thought can rest in the knowledge that its secret is safe. Safer, I would venture, than it was before Ray Kurzweil started writing this book. Conceptual confusion runs through its 300 pages like “BRIGHTON ROCK” through Brighton rock, in part because of Kurzweil’s lackadaisical engagement with the sophisticated, if inconclusive, literature on the philosophy of mind of the last 50 years. He seems only dimly aware, for example, that the computational theory of the mind—central to his thinking—has been exposed to pretty savage criticism. One can’t help wondering whether, if Kurzweil had not established his reputation as an electronic engineer and as the progenitor of the much discussed notion of “the Singularity,” this book would have got past the slush pile. There is no doubt about his engineering credentials. In the 1980s and 1990s, Kurzweil led a team which developed techniques—“hierarchical hidden Markov models”—that enabled machine recognition of voices and natural language processing, and are now exploited in all sorts of devices such as car navigation systems you can talk to and Google Voice Search, where you can speak your queries instead of typing them. His success in this area inspired him to turn an electronic engineer’s gaze on his own species and the future it seemed to be making for itself. Most famously, in The Singularity is Near: When Humans Transcend Biology, he joined a long line of prophets, including distinguished thinkers such as Samuel Butler, who have predicted a time when machines would be so powerful they would leave our current intellectual capacities for dead. For Kurzweil, the combination of ever more powerful computing techniques, robotics, genetics, neuroscience and nanotechnology will enable us to build superbrains that are non- biological in origin and no longer subject to the constraints the flesh is heir to. Immortality could be on the cards, not only through re-programming our bodies and reversing ageing but by “uploading” our minds on to a computer and storing our entire memory, personality, skills, and history safely out of reach of decay and death. Creating a mind, according to Kurzweil, will require us to manufacture an artificial neocortex, replicating the functions of that part of the brain where, so the orthodoxy goes, our thoughts and the upper storeys of human consciousness are located. The replica will be much more powerful than the original because it will utilise lightning-fast electronic circuits rather than the comparatively sluggish biological ones nature has served up. In order to do this, of course, it is necessary to understand how the originals work. Luckily, this has been cracked already. For, by a happy coincidence, the neocortex is a device for recognising patterns— hence Kurzweil’s “pattern recognition theory of mind” (PRTM)—just like the voice recognition software he invented so many years ago, which, also like our brain, can be trained by exposure to experience. The patterns detected by brains and software are hierarchical, thereby economically capturing what Kurzweil believes to be the intrinsically hierarchical nature of the patterns in the universe. Building on the work of Swiss neuroscientist Herny Markram, he speculates that the pattern recognition modules in the neocortex are composed of about 100 neurons and these are Lego-like “building blocks of knowledge for perception... [The] acquisition of memories involves the combination of these building blocks into complex constructs.” These, according to Kurzweil, are “patterns organised as lists” which will come as a surprise to many psychologists for whom memory is, as John McCrone has put it, “a living network of understanding rather than a dormant warehouse of facts.” He develops PRTM in some detail, flitting back and forth between software engineering and neuroscience, but this does not disguise the fundamental flaws in his manner of talking about brains, minds and computers. He is a professor of transferred epithets. In common with countless others, Kurzweil talks about the brain, and even small parts of it, as if it were a person, with small assemblies “recognising” or “predicting” patterns, “considering their inputs” and forming “expectations”; he even writes about individual spindle cells being “involved” in “moral judgements.” This is not problematic for Kurzweil since he sees mind-like stuff everywhere: the world itself “is based on information”; even individual carbon atoms are capable of creating “rich information structures.” So beneath the surface differences, persons, minds, brains and computers are all busy doing the same things: information processing, choosing between alternatives, guiding outputs, and so on. A dizzying circulation of terms between these items creates the illusion that the mind-brain barrier has been broken down so that it is fine to talk about the brain sometimes as a computer and sometimes as a person. A bout two-thirds of the way through his book, Kurzweil declares that “a mind is a brain that is conscious” and acknowledges that consciousness is “one philosophical [sic] difference between human brains and contemporary software programs.” This reminder of problems of consciousness, in particular its puzzling association with certain living creatures, sends him on a random walk that takes in the ethics of abortion, “the western-eastern divide on consciousness and the physical world,” Steven Wolfram’s cellular automata and quantum mechanics. Very little of this is to the point and his engagement with bits of contemporary philosophy of mind is unfortunate. To describe Wittgenstein as “a major architect” of existentialism on the strength of the supposed influence of Philosophical Investigations on the existentialists is a novel take on the history of ideas. (For the record, there is little evidence that Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Heidegger or Sartre accessed Wittgenstein’s unpublished or even unwritten thoughts by pre-cognition.) His elementary and almost insultingly perfunctory treatments of the question of “free will” and “identity” are mercifully brief. After a half-hearted discussion of “qualia”—those fundamental constituents of consciousness such as the feeling of warmth, the experience of redness, the taste of wine, that stubbornly resist being assimilated into the world-picture of objective physical sci- prospect april 2013 55 science & technology The month ahead ANJANA AHUJA © Scott Fensome/age fotostock/SuperStock Mark Walport will be nobody’s fool as he becomes the government’s chief scientific adviser on 1st April. Walport, who headed the Wellcome Trust for a decade and succeeds John Beddington, wants a starring role for scientific evidence in policymaking. He has cited the environment and the ageing population as areas he plans to get stuck into. He’ll be setting out his stall at a conference at the Royal Society on 18th April, called “Future directions for scientific advice in Whitehall.” Organised by Cambridge University’s Centre for Science and Policy (www. casp.cam.ac.uk), it will feature speakers from the department for environment, food and rural affairs, and from the government’s “nudge unit” (the Behavioural Insights Team). It will also discuss whether civil service reform will lead to a more comfortable relationship between science and government. Creating a mind: we are on our way to building artificial “superbrains,” claims Kurzweil ence—he seems to lose interest in consciousness. This may be because, he concludes, “the question as to whether or not an entity is conscious is... not a scientific one.” Indeed, he asserts that “when machines do succeed in being convincing when they speak of their qualia and conscious experiences, they will indeed constitute conscious persons.” This would seem to licence the absurd conclusion that, if you are fooled into believing a machine is conscious, that machine is aware and indeed self-aware as people are. The wearisome familiarity of Kurzweil’s confusions is occasionally alleviated by amusement at his vanity. A 146-page paper he published in 2010 found, according to his own estimate, that no less than 86 per cent of the 147 predictions he made in the 1990s have proved “correct” or “essentially correct”. And he assures us that according to “one of my key (and consistent) predictions” (he’s said it more than once so it must be true) our first encounter with a non-biological entity able to deceive us into thinking it is conscious will take place in 2029. Which month, he does not say. Many of Kurzweil’s predictions are based on his “Law of Accelerating Returns”. According to this, technical capabilities such as supercomputing power and the spatial resolution of brain imaging will continue to grow at their present exponential rate. This will underpin ever more successful attempts to understand and replicate the functions of the human brain in order “to expand our tool kit of techniques to create intelligent systems.” The future lies with “self-organising, hierarchical recognisers of invariant selfassociative patterns with redundancy and up-and-down predictions.” This may or may not turn out to be the case but such items do not sound terribly like anything that might be described as humans, post-humans or even conscious beings, except when they are described through the anthropomorphising eyes of a besotted technophile. Anyway, I would like to bet that his dream of a future of technicians “waking up the universe, and then intelligently deciding its fate by infusing it with our human intelligence in its non-biological form” will belong to the 14 per cent of his predictions that will be proven wrong. Raymond Tallis is a philosopher and retired professor of medicine at Manchester University The question of whether human genes can be patented takes centre stage in the US Supreme Court on 15th April, when the Association of Molecular Pathology challenges the validity of US patents held on breast cancer genes by Myriad Genetics. While lawyers argue whether the patents amount to a legally indefensible dominion over nature, cancer charities will picket the court in protest at Myriad’s monopoly. Myriad holds European patents on breast cancer testing but does not currently enforce them in the UK, enabling the NHS to get away with offering its own tests. For now. The two-week Easter holiday looms, along with the alarming prospect of bored, chocolate-fuelled children. I am torn between the delightfully soggy London Wetlands Centre (www.wwt. org.uk), which promises an Easter eggstravaganza on how egg-laying is part of nature’s life cycle, and the Royal Observatory Greenwich (www.rmg. co.uk), whose daily interactive family show, “From Atoms to Aliens,” will teach youngsters how to search for aliens. I’m always partial to a planetarium: it’s the perfect spot for a surreptitious parental snooze. Anjana Ahuja is a science writer We can see the future. It’s in the North Sea. It was 50 years ago that BP began working here. Our commitment to the North Sea remains. In the next five years, along with our partners, we’ll be investing a further £10 billion in major new projects. With investment like this, a commitment to looking after the infrastructure and technological advances that allow for greater recovery, some of our fields will still be producing beyond 2040. All of this activity helps sustain thousands of supply chain jobs in the UK and the careers of our 3,500 North Sea employees. Find out more about our commitment to the North Sea and the whole UK at bp.com/uk 278394A02 PN: 16503431 Date: Client: Brand: Visual: Publication: Insertion: Size (H/W): Profile: AW: PA QA CSE 13/12/2012 Procter & Gamble BP North Sea Client Master --280x210mm (3mm Bleed) ISO coated Paul Batten St Marks House Shepherdess Walk London N1 7LH Tel +44 (0)20 7861 7777 Fax +44 (0)20 7871 7705 energy Special report 57 Is Britain’s energy policy on track? April 2013 Stumbling towards crisis How did the politicians let this happen? asks Dieter Helm E renewables means a higher total capacity is needed on the system, since when the wind doesn’t blow something else has to generate the electricity. It does not take a genius to work out that as the old stations close, and little else is added, eventually the gap between supply and demand will close up, with nasty consequences for prices. Even the regulator, Ofgem, appears to have finally realised this. Unfortunately, the incumbent companies have little incentive to come to the rescue. Higher prices mean higher profits. In most markets, high profits attract entrants. Investment by the private sector is, however, a voluntary activity, as the government is discovering. In energy, that © John Giles/PA Archive/Press Association Images nergy crises are often triggered by surprises—from the Arab oil embargo in the early 1970s to more recently the Fukushima disaster. Britain’s energy crisis is, however, unlikely to be a surprise. It has been coming for a long time, masked by the economic recession, and seriously exacerbated by a combination of fundamental misunderstandings about markets and market design, poor regulation, an enor- mous bet on marginal and expensive technologies, and a stubbornness in the face of mounting concerns. The facts are widely known and not much in dispute. Many of Britain’s power stations are old, built against the assumptions of the very different energy world of the 1960s and 1970s, when Britain was relatively energy intensive. All our coal stations are pre-1980, and the first and second generations of nuclear power stations are coming to the end of their lives, if not already shut down. The renewables have made little contribution so far, and they are intermittent, so until mass storage comes along, they do not remove the need for conventional generation. More Britain’s energy crisis has been coming for a long time and has been brought about by misunderstandings, poor regulation and stubbornness 58 investment takes time. Security of supply is a system problem, and not necessarily a problem for the incumbents. For them, it is better if nobody invests, giving them much higher returns on their existing power stations. After a decade of unprecedented mergers and acquisitions—coupled with a good dose of financial engineering— most of the big players are in poor shape to do much investing anyway. Bashing the companies might make good politics, but it makes lousy economics. If these facts are well known, how did the politicians and the regulators at Ofgem let it happen? Or, perhaps more accurately, how did they create the conditions for the coming crisis? Ofgem led the way by forcing through a set of ill-conceived market reforms at the end of the 1990s. Ofgem made the economic mistake of thinking that the electricity market would automatically guarantee security of supply, voluntarily creating the necessary excess supply margin of capacity to absorb demand shocks, and all without being paid for directly. From Margaret Beckett to Ed Miliband, Chris Huhne and now Ed Davey, a succession of politicians made things much worse with a deeply flawed underlying narrative and set of assumptions about future energy markets. The main components were: a conviction that oil and gas prices would go ever upwards as a result of “peak oil” and “peak gas” (the theory that fossil fuels are finite, so supply will inevitably decline, causing prices to rise); a belief that if only enough subsidy from customers was spent on the current generation of renewables they would become cost competitive, and make a difference to global warming; and a naivety about the relationship between energy efficiency and energy demand. From these beliefs followed the prediction early on in this government’s life that the current policies would lower total customers’ bills by 2020. The story that knits these assumptions together runs roughly as follows. Ministers after the last election “knew” that the oil price would increase sharply, and that gas prices would remain linked to oil and would be volatile. (No mention was made of the volatility caused by wind). It was therefore only a matter of time before they surpassed the costs of wind and rooftop solar. All we had to do was build lots of wind farms and install the current solar technology and all would be well—reinforced by a good dose of energy efficiency and perhaps some new nuclear power stations. Indeed, the argument ran that if there was an error it was not pushing on much faster in this decade with more current renewables. In this fantasy world, pity the poor Americans. They would be lumbered with energy all these incredibly expensive fossil fuels whilst Britain would bask in the warm glow of cheaper wind farms. Energy intensive industries would presumably flock to Britain’s safe haven of cheap energy, outcompeting the US. America as a result would be an economic basket case, stuck with its dependency on oil and gas, and its energy companies would be lumbered with stranded fossil fuel assets. It would also, on this view, suffer from the lack of all the new green jobs and world-beating renewables industries that Britain would have developed. “From Margaret Beckett to Ed Davey, a succession of politicians made things worse with a flawed set of assumptions about future energy markets” You might think that as the evidence mounted there might be a pause for reflection. But not so. As the evidence has mounted, as the US marched on towards energy independence, lots of new jobs were created in the new shale oil and gas industries in the US, and energy intensive industries began “re-shoring” to the US from China and elsewhere, so campaigners intensified their efforts to kill off gas in Britain. Their argument is that to build more gas power stations now would be to lock Britain into a high-carbon world going forward. The hardliners simply want most new gas power stations banned—and, above all, shale gas banned. The carbon and methane consequences of gas are serious, but the campaigners are wrong about the role of gas in the transition to a low-carbon world. Globally, the alternative to gas in the next decade is not wind farms but coal. Wind is a low density intermittent energy source. There is not enough land and shallow water to build sufficient wind farms to make much difference to global warming. Across Europe, new coal power stations are being built— notably in Germany, based on very dirty lignite, itself subsidised. Existing coal stations are working hard, driving up emissions too. Gas has half the carbon emissions of coal, and as the US has demonstrated, switching to gas is driving down carbon emissions there, whilst coal is driving them up across Europe. In the wider world—which is what matters for global warming—coal is being added in frightening amounts. Between now and 2020, China and India may add between 400 and 600GWs of new coal, even if the Chinese do all the environmental things they say they will in their 12th Five-Year Plan. To deny that gas has prospect april 2013 a transitionary role to play in halting this dash for coal is to condemn the world to temperature increases well beyond the aspirational limit of two degrees. As I argue in my book, The Carbon Crunch, a more sensible and balanced way forward is to build some current renewables, put a big effort into the more promising future renewables and use gas as a transitional fuel instead of coal—more like the American approach, and less like the European. In the meantime, it is worth diverting just one or two of the tens of billions going into offshore wind into Carbon Capture and Storage (CCS). The North Sea is one of the best places in the world to try out this technology—shallow, with depleted gas fields and pipelines already in place. It might not work, but then again it might, and if it did it would provide another transitionary lifeline. For Britain, new coal investments are at least limited by the emissions standards. Here it is less a question of coal versus gas, but rather gas or nothing much else—at least in this decade—unless the government gets a derogation from the EU Large Combustion Plant Directive limiting noncarbon emissions from existing power stations, and is allowed to keep running old, dirty coal power stations. T he department of energy and climate change (DECC) is confident that, notwithstanding current policies, the bills are going to come down because they assume that measures to increase energy efficiency will drive down demand far enough to offset the higher unit prices. This confidence is based upon two assumptions: first, that there are lots and lots of energy efficiency opportunities that are already profitable and, second, that higher energy efficiency will drive down the demand for energy. DECC believes that its flagship Green Deal will see a transformation of the housing stock, and that there will be little or no rebound—the spending of the energy savings on yet more energy for things like air conditioning. The hype around the Green Deal already looks embarrassingly overdone, and since energy efficiency (a good thing) reduces the cost of energy, economics suggests that overall energy demand will go up, not down, as it has for the last 200 years. It is high prices, not energy efficiency, which reduces demand. Energy efficiency and energy demand are two different things. Customers already struggle to pay. By 2015, possibly a quarter of all households will be spending more than 10 per cent of their total income on domestic energy bills, of which already over 10 per cent is made up of various policy levies. A much-ignored golden rule of Natural gas – abundant, flexible and central to meeting Europe’s energy needs and challenges A world leader in natural gas www.bg-group.com Total Politics_275mm x 210mm_Jan12_v1.indd 1 10/01/2012 17:18 60 energy prospect april 2013 “A much-ignored golden rule of energy policy is that the customers actually have to be able to pay” “To meet targets, Britain has to build wind farms, no matter what the consequences for security and price” energy policy is that the customers actually have to be able to pay. It is hard to avoid the conclusion that the wall of costs coming from current policies is unsustainable, but surprisingly few draw the corollary—that it will not be sustained. Add all this together and the outline of an energy crisis is pretty clear. Britain may of course get “lucky” in energy terms as it has since 2008. The economic crisis may continue, GDP may fall, and hence energy demand may stay subdued. But that is a poor bet and anyway in such a depressed situation the bills issue would probably be overwhelming. Recovery and a lower exchange rate mean a gradual rebalancing—more manufacturing means more energy demand, and economic growth drives consumption. S o what is to be done? Having dug a very big hole, the first step is to stop digging. Unfortunately there are two separate but related reasons to doubt that the spades are about to be put away soon: the EU renewables directive and the energy bill. The renewables directive requires that Britain generates at least 15 per cent of its total energy from renewables (as defined by the EU) by 2020, and since we cannot do much about transport and other main uses of energy in the short run, this means that a massive 30 per cent of Britain’s electricity will have to come from renewables if this target is to be met. Given the tar- get date is so short term, we can only meet it by building a lot more wind farms, fitting more solar panels, and burning more biomass—whatever the security and price consequences. With the current electricity price at around £50 per megawatt hour, onshore wind costs around £100 MWh (not including the full system costs of its intermittency), offshore wind about £160 MWh (again not including the full system costs) and the early subsidies paid for by customers for rooftop solar anything up to £240 MWh—even if the target could be met, it is probably unaffordable. The energy bill before parliament is about to make things worse. It is extraordinarily complex given that the challenges are pretty simple. It layers more and more instruments and interventions on top of the current morass of detail. Just to understand the interventions is beyond most in DECC. Every technology has its special subsidies, and DECC is about to embark on yet more picking of “winners.” The unintended consequences of the overlaps and interactions of the interventions are unlikely to be trivial. It is not too late to radically simplify the energy bill. What is needed is sufficient investment in power stations to provide roughly a 20 per cent capacity margin, to insure us against shocks and keep a lid on prices. The government needs to recognise that this excess capacity will not be produced by the market. It needs to fix the margin, and then auction the slots to meet it. These auctions need also to meet the carbon budgets and the decarbonisation trajectory. Such an approach is of course anathema to many of the current recipients of subsidies. Imagine asking offshore wind to bid against other technologies to meet the carbon target—to reveal their true costs and have them tested by the market. Ministers probably would not like this either. Imagine revealing through the bids the extraordinary subsidies they have been handing out to the “winners” they have picked. Added to this setting of the margin requirement and the capacity auctions, other decisions need to be made quickly. The nuclear saga cannot go on. For 12 years governments have decided that they don’t want nuclear, and then that they do, that nuclear needs no public subsidy and then that it does, and that a waste solution should be found first, and then that it is not urgent. The current approach to nuclear is a close replica of that of the late 1970s. The plan is to try out a number of different technologies and providers and see if they work. So Hitachi is pitched against EDF, with Westinghouse in the background. It is time to recognise that nuclear is a political technology that requires a long-term political consensus and a national industrial policy for its supply chain. Either do it properly or don’t do it—but the middle way looks at best very expensive. Government also needs to decide what it is going to do about the most expensive MAKING ENERGY WORK If we told you that Britain has an energy sector to be proud of would you believe us? Let’s look at the facts: Britain has the most competitive energy market in Europe and some of Europe’s cheapest energy prices. Throughout the current economic downturn, the energy sector is one of the few areas of the economy that has never stopped recruiting. Between 2008 & 2011, the sector created 54,0001 jobs spread across all regions of the UK. In terms of economic impact, every pound spent in the energy sector adds more to the economy than a pound spent any where else1 and in the last 6 years, RWE npower has spent over £4.5 billion providing new energy infrastructure for Britain, more than any other energy company2. to a low carbon economy is unprecedented – equivalent to building the London Olympics infrastructure twice each and every year. In 2012, our profit across our retail and generation activities was just 5%. The perception of energy companies, and the lack of trust in the sector, is something we know we have to tackle – but a reasonable debate about the energy sector can only be achieved if we start with the facts. The Energy Bill is a critical piece of legislation. If the people of Britain are to support these policy decisions, and if Britain is to attract the level of investment it really needs, the required changes must be well thought through and implemented swiftly and effectively – and at the lowest cost to consumers and businesses alike. Energy is the lifeblood of modern society. If we don’t get energy right, nothing else can work as well as it should do. The scale of new investment required to ensure security of supply and move us We want to work together to change energy for the better, but customers must be at the heart of every change we make. Prices Profit Bills Copenhagen 12.16 Consumer perception of energy company profits is 10x greater than reality Rome 8.17 Berlin 7.07 WHOLESALE ENERGY COSTS Paris 6.47 GOVERNM GOVERNMENT RNMENT COSTS 1 SUPPLIER COSTS Ernst&Young Powering the UK, 2012 Bloomberg New Energy Finance report for Greenpeace UK *Prices include energy, distribution and taxes 2 43.2% 16.4% 16 4% London 4.74 Gas price (€ cent per kWh)* Ofgem / The Times, 2012 What makes up an energy bill? 17 7.2% .2% 17 2% NETWORK COSTS 23.2% 23.2% – Average Ave Av A vve e errra rag ag a age ge npower n npow power err dual dual fuel fuel bill bill off £1,289, £1 £ 1,2 1 1, ,28 ,289 289, 89, M Mar13 ar13 ar1 3 – Supplier Sup Su Supp upp ppli plier plie err cos e costs cost tts in include ncclu lude ude ud de p prof profit rofit ro rof fit i m margin mar margin, gin n, metering and operating costs – Government costs include cost of carbon 62 energy renewables. Offshore wind in particular has inherent cost characteristics that are going to be very hard to shift. Many European countries have just pushed the biomass button, whatever its environmental merits. Some 50 per cent of all the qualifying renewables in Europe will be biomass. The obvious solution is to seriously try to renegotiate the renewables directive’s targets, timetables and what counts within its definitions. To date there is no evidence any minister has tried. Given the underlying rationale has long gone, that is where DECC should be targeting their efforts. It is worth bearing in mind, too, that should the Conservatives win the next election, the energy crisis is scheduled to happen in the middle of a promised EU referendum campaign. The risk of prices shooting up because of very inefficient directives is not going to make the case for staying in the EU any more persuasive. Beyond the details of the peculiarly British energy crisis, it is time for Europe to raise its game. The 2008 EU climate change package has not made much difference to global warming and is driving up European energy costs, while the EU emissions trading scheme is close to collapse. After the 2014 European elections, with a new Commission, there will be a good opportunity for a rethink in the face of rampant US energy competitiveness. It would be nice to think that ministers in Britain will take that opportunity to radically simplify energy policy. Sadly history suggests that they will continue to pile one layer of interventions upon another until the system collapses. Energy policy tends to get reformed after a crisis, not before. That date is fast approaching. As the government ploughs on with the energy bill, others will prepare for another energy review immediately after the election in 2015. Dieter Helm is professor of energy policy at the University of Oxford and author of “The Carbon Crunch” (Yale University Press) “To be honest, I don’t think the garden does need it anymore.” Is solar still worth it? With a big enough roof, yes, says Andy Davis W hen those in power want something to happen, history shows they can create irresistible incentives to make it so. The Bank of England keeps bond yields at extreme lows by summoning yet more electronic money into existence. The department of energy and climate change scatters photovoltaic solar panels across Britain’s rooftops using only the power of public subsidy. Being the sort of investor who likes someone else to take the risk and leave me with the reward, I didn’t take much persuading to call in the solar panel installers in spring 2010. At that point, the government was offering a subsidy of around 43p per kilowatt hour of power the panels generated—more than four times the market price. And since this already-generous feed-in tariff was tax free and would rise in line with retail prices for the next 25 years, I could find nothing to dislike about the proposition, try as I might. It has indeed been a sweet deal, yielding 7.9 per cent in 2012 despite the dreary weather. But since our panels were switched on, the world has changed and the subsidy for new installations has fallen by about two-thirds. So are panels still such a cracking investment (leaving aside the question of whether you care about any environmental benefits)? The answer is yes, and no. On the face of it, the deep subsidy cut looks as if it should have killed off the investment case for solar panels. However, you also need to factor in the steep drop in the cost of having panels fitted over the past couple of years. According to the Energy Saving Trust, the capital outlay has dropped pretty much in line with the subsidy—the approximate cost of one kilowatt of solar capacity has fallen from nearly £6,000 in late 2010 to about £2,000 today, reflecting a number of factors including a collapse in the price of the panels themselves and improvements in their efficiency (size-forsize, today’s panels generate more power than those available a couple of years ago). That leaves the returns pretty much where they started, at somewhere between prospect april 2013 7 per cent and 9 per cent a year (depending on the weather), tax free and index linked. In a world where it has become unbelievably hard to find any other way of making a safe index-linked net return of 7-plus per cent, the case for putting a portion of your money into panels remains compelling. There are, however, a fair few caveats to consider alongside that superb yield. The most obvious are to do with your property. Do you live in an area that gets enough sunlight to make it worthwhile? Does your roof face the right way? Is it made of the right materials? Is it listed? Do you own or rent it? And so on. Assuming you can pass the suitability tests, the next question is the size of your roof (or land, if you plan to get really ambitious). The point is that although the likely rate of return has remained stable, the cash income you will receive has fallen sharply—an 8 per cent return on £2,000 is no match for an 8 per cent return on £6,000. So for most of us, the roof area we have available will determine how big an allocation of capital we can make to this very attractive asset class. “On the face of it, the deep subsidy cut looks as if it should have killed off the investment case for solar panels. But there are other issues to factor in” Is it still worth the trouble? The answer, I think, is yes—install panels (if you can) and then look to increase your exposure by investing in other people’s renewable energy projects using your self-invested personal pension. Thankfully, there’s a growing number of ways to do this via organisations such as The Trillion Fund and Abundance Generation. Your returns from this route won’t be explicitly index linked, although they should still comfortably beat inflation. They won’t be immediately taxable either, if held inside a Sipp, but will incur charges from the intermediary that arranges the investment for you. For my money, it still stacks up both because of the potential returns and for two other reasons: this is an asset class totally uncorrelated to the rest of your portfolio (the sun still shines when the markets go down), and it offers a partial hedge against your inescapable exposure to ever-rising energy bills. Andy Davis is Prospect’s investment columnist and the winner of the 2012 Wincott Prize for personal financial journalism BEC_Prospects_P_BEC Advert 275x210_4_Layout 1 01/02/2013 09:25 Page 1 Acting Locally, Thinking GloballyTM Connecting you... West Cumbria is poised to deliver over 3,000 new jobs in the next 15 years by capitalising on a potential £90 billion worth of investment in the nuclear industry and seizing new opportunities in renewable technologies. Britain’s Energy Coast is a dynamic one-stop-shop for economic development charged with helping West Cumbria realise its potential. We offer a wide range of business support activities and funding packages for home-grown businesses and inward investors. We fund physical and skills related regeneration projects and manage a high-quality business property services including the Westlakes Science & Technology Park. Our aim is to create an entrepreneurial environment where businesses can grow; helping to stimulate wealth and jobs that directly benefit the West Cumbrian community and aid Britain’s response to the pressing challenges of climate change and energy security. We are truly Acting Locally, Thinking Globally™ For more information on our work visit www.britainsenergycoast.co.uk BUSINESS SUPPORT & PROJECTS ENERGY INNOVATION PROPERTY & MANAGED WORKSPACE 64 prospect april 2013 Life © Heide Benser/Corbis The truth about teenagers 64 Leith on life: my deepest darkest fear 65 Matters of taste: Easter feasts 66 Wine: where is the “new world”? 68 Myth of the teenager Does the stroppy adolescent exist? asks Lucy Maddox Teenagers often get a bad press. There are easy stories to be mined here: ASBOs, underage drinking, “hug a hoodie,” drug use—even, recently, the teenager who drugged her parents to access the internet. These are not new stereotypes. As a shepherd in Shakespeare’s A Winter’s Tale puts it, “I would there were no age between 10 and three-and-20, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting.” Change the syntax, and this description could easily fit in many newspapers today. Are the stereotypes fair? Is the idea of wild adolescence rooted in evidence? There are two sorts of arguments. On the one hand, neuroscientific evidence seems increasingly to suggest that this is a true developmental phase of its own—teenagers behave differently because their brains are different. On the other, some argue that teenagers behave differently because they are learning to handle so many new situations, and if we hold stereotypical ideas about their behaviour, we risk underestimating them. Take the latter argument first. Philip Graham, a professor of psychiatry who has written extensively on what he perceives to be a misconception, believes that although hormonal and physical changes are occurring, most teenagers are not risky or moody. Graham sees teenagers as a stigmatised group, often highly competent yet treated as if they were not. He argues that teenagers need to be acknowledged as potentially productive members of society and that the more independence and respect they are given, the more they will rise to the challenge. “Once young people reach the age of 14, their competence in cognitive tasks and their sexual maturity make it more helpful to think of them as young adults,” says Graham. “Media coverage is almost uniformly negative. Adolescence is a word used to describe undesirable behaviour in older adults. Young people of 14, 15 or 16 prospect april 2013 are thought to be risk-takers… they are people who are experimenting. They are doing things for the first time and they make mistakes. Would you call a toddler who is learning to walk and who falls over all the time a risk-taker? These people are just beginning something.” Graham places less importance on the conclusions of research into risk-taking and on adolescent brain changes—“Not to say there are not a small minority who do take dangerous risks but I think the results have been over-generalised to justify the stereotype.” Instead, Graham argues that the way teenagers make decisions is related to encountering situations they haven’t dealt with before. “If they are moving into new types of social situation they do need more help with that.” He likens it to learning to drive, something you need expert help with at any age. However, neuroscientific evidence suggests a basis for the teenage stereotype. Sarah-Jayne Blakemore, a professor at University College London, has specialised in researching the adolescent brain using a variety of techniques, including functional brain scanning. Although also concerned that teenagers can be vilified in the media, Blakemore rejects the idea that adolescence is entirely a social construct: “If you look throughout history at the descriptions of adolescence they are similar, and also in different cultures. Of course this is not to say that all adolescents are the same, but there is quite a lot of evidence that during this period of life there’s an increase in risk-taking, peer influence and self-consciousness.” Blakemore’s research suggests that during the teenage years the brain is still developing the capacity for certain sophisticated skills, including problem-solving, social skills and impulse control. Blakemore and other researchers describe a gradual development of brain areas related to planning, inhibiting inappropriate behaviour and understanding other points of view. They also suggest a less linear development of the system in the brain that recognises and responds to rewards. “Teenagers tend to be more self-conscious,” said Blakemore. “They show more risk-taking when their peers are present.” Their social brain is changing and so is their ability to plan, inhibit impulses and make decisions. “Research by Laurence Steinberg at Temple University in the US has shown that adolescents tend not to take into account future consequences of actions. For example if you offer them a choice between having £10 now and £100 in six months, whilst adults tend to wait for the larger amount, most adolescents are more likely to go for the lower value now. 65 Life Life in the future doesn’t hold so much importance.” It might make sense, then, that a teenager trying to decide whether to tell a lie in order to go out, or to try an illegal drug, might be influenced more by the reward of the night out or the novel experience, or peer congratulation, than by longer-term negative consequences. “It’s not that teenagers don’t understand the risks,” says Blakemore. “It’s just that for some teenagers, in the moment, this understanding goes out of the window.” Despite their different views, both academics conclude that teenagers could benefit from being treated according to their development. Graham suggests friendly advice-giving. It is important to “recognise their desire for autonomy,” he says. “They want to do more than they can. We should treat them differently because they are inexperienced... and first experiences are important. A bad experience can put you off something for a long time.” He does not advocate tolerating too much difficult behaviour, though: “Adolescents are influenced by the stereotype as well. If they expect to get away with being ‘bolshy’ for example… I don’t think we should be particularly tolerant of bad behaviour in adolescence.” Blakemore thinks that we should adjust the way we try to motivate teenagers: “Anti-smoking campaigns, for example, might be more effective if they used short-term social negatives like bad breath as a disincentive, rather than longer-term health consequences. And we perhaps expect too much. “We expect them to act like adults but their brains aren’t yet completely like an adult brain. Maybe we should be more understanding. Teaching adolescents about how their brains develop might be helpful.” Whether you attribute adolescent differences in decision-making to brain development or lack of experience, educational aims could include the handling of social dilemmas. Parents might be able to help by being explicit about the pros and cons of a situation, considering other people’s views or negotiating in a transparent way. We should also bear in mind that teenagers are often uniquely affected by economic and political challenges such as high unemployment levels. In my view, adolescence is a tricky time, where individuals often struggle to find their own identity in the face of a sometimes hostile outside world, whilst needing peer support. Both Blakemore and Graham are more phlegmatic. “Every time’s a tricky time,” says Graham. “You try being my age.” Lucy Maddox is a clinical psychologist for children and adolescents Leith on life Sam Leith A mortal fear of dental hygienists What’s your deepest darkest fear? Mine, I’ve come to realise over the course of time, may actually be dental hygienists. This, please feel free to refrain from pointing out, explains why my teeth are smelly and caramel-coloured and I’m going to spend the last decades of my life eating only soup. Why hygienists? It’s dentists, I know, that scare most people more—with their whining drills, needles dripping anaesthetic and enthusiasm for kneeling on your chest and ripping things out of your face with pliers. Many a case of dental caries, to be sure, has gone untreated as a direct result of Laurence Olivier’s performance in Marathon Man. Hygienists are regarded as their more or less herbivorous cousins. That’s the way I felt, back in the day. For most of my twenties my beef with hygienists was not that I feared them, but that I simply couldn’t see the point of them. With dentists, at least, you knew where you were: if you have a hole in your tooth, the dentist is the go-to guy. The procedure might not be pleasant, but at the end of it you’ll either have no hole in your tooth, or no tooth. Badda-bing badda-boom. Hygienists, on the other hand—they did... what, exactly? Oh, sure, they were pleasant enough. When I was a child, my mother would take me along once every few months. The process involved disclosing tablets, which were actually super-fun: you chewed this tanninous little purple disco biscuit and then grinned. All the plaque on your teeth was lurid red. Then you brushed it off. You always had that trade-off: did you give your teeth a massive scrubbing before you went to the hygienist so as to impress them; or did you let things slide so you looked cool, like a vampire, at disclosing tablet time? Big choice for an eight-year-old. Like the Jesuits, who are said to maintain that if they get their hooks into the child the adult isn’t going anywhere (I paraphrase), hygienists use the fun of disclosing tablets to sucker you into the habit of visiting them. When you’re a grown-up, they change the game. Now you’re having tartar scraped off your teeth with bloody great billhooks, or this incredibly gritty paste whizzed over your molars with what feels like some sort of spinning rubber pad. The visits got marginally less pleasant, but the sense of pointlessness remained. Even to a child (vide the disclosing tab- let dilemma) it seemed manifest that the hygienist was only really able to assess your teeth on the basis of the last brushing you did. And the advice, from adolescence onwards, never changed: brush your teeth (twice a day, little circles, have you thought of an electric toothbrush?) and use dental floss. Why, I always wondered, did I need to shell out once every six months to be told to use dental floss? Why did you need a framed diploma on your wall to tell people to use dental floss? Good advice, no question— but once you’ve heard it, y’know, it’s pretty much gone in. It’s only recently that I have started to suspect that my blustering belief in the pointlessness of dental hygienists may be cover for something more sinister: mortal terror—terror because the dentist may mean physical pain, but the hygienist means facing up to mortality. Your teeth don’t grow back. Unlike your skin, your bone marrow, your brain cells and most of the rest of you they won’t regenerate. They don’t fight the passage of time. No matter how much you floss you’re not growing a fresh layer of enamel. Every chip and knock, every acid-bath of fizzy water or orange juice (who knew these health-giving things were betraying us?) does its damage and that damage stays done. The dentist is actually fixing stuff, while the hygienist is simply taking a sober look at your mouth, and telling you how much closer, each time, you are to fissures, cavities, exposed dentine, agonising pain from ice cream, tea etc. It’s a six-monthly warning on the nearness of your approach to “sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.” There are some tips offered for delaying the inevitable (“Brush! Use dental floss!”), but what one tends to hear in that formula is not “delay” so much as “inevitable.” On my last visit—where I learned inter alia that the enthusiasm with which I brushed, in the hopes of not losing the enamel on my teeth, was directly responsible for, er, losing the enamel on my teeth— my hygienist got particularly perky. She peered into my mouth with the look of a cat that has just discovered a particularly plump and uncoordinated mouse in the bottom of a cardboard box. “Oh look!” she said. “Dear, oh dear; your teeth are completely flat. You’re grinding them in your sleep. Carry on like that and you’ll go right through the dentine.” There was some discussion of gumshields and such. She turned to her assistant, brightly. “We’re seeing more and more of this these days, aren’t we? I think it’s the recession.” It’s not the recession that’s making me grind my teeth, I would have said if I hadn’t had a mouthful of billhooks and vacuum tubes. It’s dental hygienists. Sam Leith is the author of “You Talkin’ To Me? Rhetoric from Aristotle to Obama” (Profile) LIFE Matters of taste Wendell Steavenson Eggs are not just for Easter Damascus at Easter, not so long ago, before the war. In the Christian quarter of Bab Touma, the Christian marching bands— teenagers in khaki military shirts with coloured scarves knotted over their shoulders—drummed and trumpeted the Easter parade through the ancient alleys. A pink and blue fluffy Easter bunny was carried on a litter so large that it got stuck at a narrow bend. Behind it, on another palanquin, was a giant egg, ruffled with ribbons, dressed up like a bride. The processions moved on in the early evening to a church courtyard where the banging and crashing of drummer boys and girls drowned out the muezzin calling prayer through a loudspeaker, as Jesus was shown making his tortured progression to Calvary in Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, projected onto a wall. There are two Easters; one that commemorates the crucifixion of the son of God and one that belongs to the egg. No circular conundrum here: the son of God is not a chicken; the egg came first. Wherever I have travelled I have found eggs in various prospect april 2013 guises of springtime festival: decorated, hunted, played with, eaten; the original germinant, hope of life, new life, reproduction, resurrection. There were traditionally plenty of eggs to be used up before the Lent fast—hence Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday) and Shrove Tuesday, with its pancakes. Trace the oval curve through folklore: in Poland and Russia they paint patterns on eggs in wax, like batik; the imperial family commissioned Fabergé to cover them in diamonds and filigree gold. In Greece and the environs of Byzantium they dye them red for Christ’s blood and bake them into the crusts of Paschal bread, itself enriched with egg yolk and spices. Some say the egg represents the resurrection, a reference to the story in which Mary Magdalene took a basket of boiled eggs to feed the women who went to the tomb. When she saw that Christ had risen, the eggs turned red. In Lebanon, children hard-boil eggs and play tapping competitions to see whose will crack first. In the 19th century, the Cadburys made eggs from chocolate as soon as they had invented the process for tempering cocoa butter to hold solid shapes. These days we hunt them as far as the White House lawn; in the American south they make devilled eggs for any celebration but especially for Easter, spicy with Tabasco and paprika, and display them on special plates made with individual egg-shaped indentations. The symbolism of Christian egg stories carry a whiff of reverse engineering. Eggs © Khaled Al-Hariri/Reuters/Corbis 66 Children carry baskets of brightly coloured eggs at Easter Day mass in Damascus Getting mines out of the ground, now. Over 8,000 staff worldwide ... making a world of difference For donations, corporate sponsorship or job applications, please contact us at: Carronfoot, Thornhill, Dumfries DG3 5BF • [email protected] • www.halotrust.org Registered Charity No: 1001813 & SCO37870 68 are everyone’s. In Egypt, the Sham El Nessim festival, literally the “Smelling of the Zephyrs,” is as old as the Pharaohs and is celebrated by Copts and Muslims alike by picnicking in the open air and eating fermented Nile river fish and boiled eggs. When I was living in Tehran I remember Nowruz, the ancient Zoroastrian festival of spring equinox, falling that year at the same time as Moharram, the Shia month of mourning. The Ayatollahs had tried to stamp out Nowruz with its rites of fire jumping and painted eggs, but in the bazaar I remember brisk business for Nowruz presents. I will celebrate this Easter in Jerusalem, the city of two Easters, Orthodox and Catholic. The Jewish Passover is traditionally around the same time. Families gather and recite the Exodus story around the seder plate; bitter herbs for enslavement in Egypt, charoset of dried fruit and honey to represent the mortar of the pyramids. Children play hunt the matzah. Eggs are dyed brown with onion skins or chopped up into a slurrylike salad or salted. In her book of Jewish food, Claudia Roden recounts a Sephardic recipe of eggs cooked slowly overnight so that their whites are mahogany and their yolks umber coloured and creamy. Symbolic meanings are variously ascribed: mourning, birth and death; the cycle of life; the continuity of Jewish life; the destruction of the temple. An Israeli friend of mine told me, only half jokingly, the other day: “My father always told me we dip the eggs in salt water because the Jewish nations’ balls [in Hebrew ‘eggs’ is slang for testicles] got wet and salty crossing the Red Sea. Who knows?” He smiled at me, and we swapped eggy tales and wondered at the universality of something that seems to hark back earlier than any religious explanation. “It’s all based on the same stuff,” he said. Wendell Steavenson is an associate editor of Prospect Wine Barry Smith New world—not so new Many vine growing regions resent the description of their wines as “new world.” As they will tell you, they have been making wines for well over a hundred years. It simply took the rest of the world time to discover what they were producing. In the last three decades we have caught up with wines from Australia, California, New Zealand, and more recently Argentina, Chile and South Africa. Each of these regions have placed LIFE their stamp firmly on particular grape varieties. The savoury shiraz from Australia, the forceful Californian zinfandel, and the richness and tropical fruit New Zealanders found in sauvignon blanc. Producers all over the world have been seeking to discover what extra flavour dimensions their regions could give to familiar varietals. Argentina had spectacular success with the malbec grape, previously known for producing the black wines of Cahors. When it was grown at high altitude in Mendoza, on the edge of the Andes mountain range, it found extra floral notes and a rich fruit core of blackberry and blueberry flavours. The Chileans achieved similar success with the dark and coal-like carmenère grape. Meanwhile, in South Africa, winemakers found additional notes and a ripeness in chenin blanc. New wine regions are being discovered, all the time, each hoping to make its mark by producing something distinctively local but celebrated globally. However, the later one joins the search for success, the harder it is to find promising grapes that are capable of rejuvenation. Not surprisingly, it’s the major players in the new world economy who are keen to develop their nascent wine industries, and China and Brazil are both developing fast. While the former created a new wine culture, the latter has taken an existing one to a new level. So far Brazilian winemakers have only been producing wines for the home market but as the quality has continued to rise, it is time the rest of the world knew more about these wines. Almost a century ago, an Italian community moved into Brazil’s Rio Grande do Sul and started making spumante. For red wine they planted the nebbiolo grape on slopes like those of their native Piedmont. From here grew the wine industry you can see thriving today in the Vale dos Vinhedos, close to the city of Bento Gonçalves, and near Pinto Bandeira. The nebbiolo vines no longer exist. They were pulled up and replaced by merlot and cabernet sauvignon in the hope of making fashionable, international wines— so many producers feel they have not made it as winemakers until they produce a “Bordeaux blend.” This is a mistake and it’s much better to fashion a wine from grapes more suited to the climate. Cabernet franc is much more successful in the high but humid conditions in southern Brazil, where the concentration needed for cabernet sauvignon is hard to achieve. A particularly good example comes from one of the largest and oldest producers, Casa Valduga, established in 1875. Their young winemaker, Daniel Dalla Valle, endlessly strives for better quality in all his wines. The last 30 years have seen enormous improvements; but he wants to go further. “Give me another 30 years and see what I can do,” he tells me. I like the ambition. So far, the search for Brazil’s flagship grape has proved elusive. And with so few prospect april 2013 options left to explore, producers have been experimenting with unlikely varietals such as tannat, a thick-skinned grape that fared much better in Uruguay. But they have no need to worry. Brazilian winemakers are exceptional at making sparkling wines using the méthode champenoise—the traditional and labour-intensive method of turning the bottles by hand. This is producing fine examples of lees-aged wines from a variety of chardonnay and pinot noir blends. Cave Geisse led the way in 1979, after Chilean-born Mario Geisse left his job at Moët et Chandon to start it up. He now produces several cuvées including a Brut rosé from 100 per cent pinot noir aged in oak barrels. The wines show complexity and distinction. And Geisse is not alone. Along with Casa Valduga, smaller producers like Don Giovanni are turning out excellent wines. Perhaps the greatest success for Brazilian winemaking comes in the form of Sparkling Nature—a zero-dosage wine made from fully ripe grapes. In brut wines, the dosage of sweet liqueur added during bottle fermentation can be anywhere between six to 12 grams per litre; and while in France there is a growing craze for zero-dosage champagnes, these are often austere and acidic wines due to the lack of ripeness in the grapes. By contrast, the ripeness found in the hills surrounding Pinto Bandeira allows winemakers to produce elegant and palatable wines, which let the quality of the fruit speak. Don Giovanni’s Nature, with its elegant bubbles and gentle mousse combines fruit, freshness and leesderived complexity. A pity that this wine is not known outside Brazil: it should be. It’s the epitome of a wine culture that began with the early makers of spumante. If only they had preserved their nebbiolo grapes who knows what we might be drinking now. The reds will come in time as a new generation of winemakers master the arts of grape, place and technique. Already, there are signs of significant developments at Almaúnica. It may be a while before we see Brazilian wines join the ranks of the internationally available new world wines, but they will come and they will be worth waiting for. Barry Smith is editor of “Questions of Taste: The Philosophy of Wine” (Signal Books) The Good Friday message You Click We Deliver_Prospect Full Page 04/10/2012 14:58 Page 1 No Minimum Order! 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It’s so easy with Harpers’ Best Top Merchant of the Year 2012. tanners-wines.co.uk Independent family shippers of estate wines 70 prospect april 2013 Arts & books Europe: the struggle for supremacy 70 JM Coetzee’s slippery fiction 74 Pop art gets old 76 Britain’s iconoclast director 78 The month in books 79 The 500 year war Since the 15th century Europe has been the bloody battleground in a continent-wide struggle for power, says Josef Joffe. But today war seems a distant threat. What changed? Europe: The Struggle for Supremacy, 1453 to the Present by Brendan Simms (Allen Lane, £30) Diplomatic history—the history of interstate politics—has fallen on hard times in the academy. Half a generation ago, a piece in the Chronicle of Higher Education claimed that the discipline had become boring, elitist or irrelevant. Its “corps is shrinking, losing academic prestige and tenured positions,” reported the author. After all, diplomatic history is about princes and potentates, “mainly about dead white males.” Whatever the righteous tone of the article, the facts cannot be gainsaid. “Real history” is now bottomup—social, gender and economic history. Chronology—who did what and when—has yielded to category: “Industrial Revolution”, “Slavery,” “Colonial Conquest,” or “Cold War.” Classics like AJP Taylor’s Struggle for Mastery in Europe (1954) or William L Langer’s European Alliances and Alignments (1931) now look like ancient history. Departmental careers are being made from smaller bricks. Hence the big surprise of Brendan Simms’s Europe: The Struggle for Supremacy, 1453 to the Present. At 690 pages it is big in heft and ambition, sweeping across half a millennium of European history. Aficionados of the craft should cheer the arrival of Simms’s brainchild. There is nothing in the recent literature to match it. Even Paul Kennedy’s bestseller Rise and Fall of the Great Powers is now 26 years old. Aficionados might also feel envy. Not only has Simms bitten off a huge chunk of history, he has mastered it with style and an awe-inspiring command of the literature (the footnotes run on for almost 100 pages). He deserves a prize just for this Herculean feat of synthesis. Another one might beckon for breaking the mould of traditional, that is, state-centred, diplomatic history. The narrative weaves together grand strategy and domestic politics, economics and ideology, and the European as well as global strands of a story that is about “us”—the west with its triumphs and tragedies, its magnificent achievements and untold cruelties. How did this 500-year story come to an end in the aftermath of the two world wars, with Europe pacified and “communalised,” fighting no longer in the trenches but over the euro and the EU budget? To map a boundless ocean of detail that spans 500 years, one needs a theme. Simms’s plot is the “struggle for mastery,” a term borrowed from AJP Taylor, and not a bad one. In the author’s words: “The fundamental issue has always been whether Europe would be united—or dominated—by a single force” —from Charles V of Spain via Napoleon to Hitler and Stalin. The permanent arena of hegemonic strife was Germany in its manyhued guises: “because of its immense economic and military potential.” Germany “has also been the cockpit of the European ideological struggle”—from the religious wars to the cold war. Should Simms be quite as Germanocentric? It’s true that the blurry landmass between the rivers Rhine and Vistula, known as the “Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation” until 1806, was the fulcrum of Europe’s strategic balance. But as an old saw has it, this strange creature was none of the above: neither holy, nor Roman, nor German, nor a nation. Certainly it was not a real empire with real power. Prey rather than predator, it was the locale, not the engine of great-power conflict. The German philosopher Leibniz had it right when he complained in 1670: “The Empire…is the ball which [the powers] toss to one another, the battlefield on which the struggle for mastery in Europe is fought.” So, who did the struggling? Some 500 years ago, the nation-state—make that “dynastic nation-state”—began to bestride the European stage as the most muscular and dynamic actor. Unified by royal conquest and defined ever more by language, ethnicity and recognisable borders, England, France and Spain proved best-equipped to play the game of expansion. So were the nation-states that pushed onstage later: Prussia-Germany, Russia and the United States. Meanwhile, empires kept dying. The first world war killed the Wilhelmine, Ottoman, Romanov and Habsburg empires; Britain’s and France’s went after the second world war. Once the theme is “mastery,” the “balance of power” cannot be far behind. “Mastery” shouts: “more for myself!”, but “balance” growls: “never!” For those who dimly remember 16th and 17th-century Europe as a religious abattoir—Papists decimating Protestants, Islam besieging Vienna—Simms offers a salutary lesson in realpolitik, which is another word for the “balance of power.” Francis I of France (1515—47) had no qualms about enlisting the Ottomans against his arch-enemy Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor and “Most Catholic” ruler of Spain. Francis did not mind having the “infidel” on his side if that enabled him to “undermine the Emperor’s power… and to secure all other governments against so powerful an enemy.” Similarly, the thirty years war, which claimed one-third of central Europe’s population, was a religious conflict only on the surface. In fact, it was a mortal struggle between two Catholic powers, France and Habsburg, in which both allied with Protestant nations. Under Louis XIV, France once more played the Turkish card against Christian Europe. Time after time, power and interest trumped ideology, most dramatically in the two world wars, when the democracies fought side-by-side with tyrants both dynastic and Bolshevik. B undling national narratives— the stuff we learned in school— into a European saga, Simms also reminds us that the stage has always been a global one. Striking out across the oceans, the great powers fought for booty and turf to finance their wars on the European battlefield. When the flow of Latin American gold and silver dwindled, so did Spanish power in the 17th century. Yet, Simms fails to stress the opposite causal link, 71 arts & books © The Art Archive/Ashmolean Museum prospect april 2013 The battle of Pavia, 1525, at which the forces of Francis I of France were overwhelmed by those of the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V with colonial conflict triggering war on the home front. The prime example is the seven years war, erupting in Europe in 1756. Europeans are wont to ignore that it had started two years earlier in North America, where it was known as “French and Indian War.” Fighting for control over North America, the British and French began to cast around for allies in Europe. Britain snagged Prussia while France recruited Austria, Russia, Spain and Sweden. What began in America became the original first world war, prosecuted on both sides of the Atlantic, in India, West Africa, South America and on the high seas. When it was over, French and Spanish power in North America was broken, and the world became English, so to speak. Simms might also have stressed the enormous global consequences of this war. Amer- icans are taught how the rapacious Brits under “Mad King George” forced them into revolt with extortionist taxation. In fact, those colonists were ingrates. Britain had saved them from the French and their Indian allies, running up a huge debt in the process. Now the proto-Americans, free-riders in modern parlance, refused to pay their fair share. We know how the story ended—with the British expelled, and their former protégés set on the road to global primacy. In Europe, this “first world war” brought another giant-to-be onstage who had been nurtured by Britain: the Prussia of Frederick the Great. The story of Prussia highlights the age-old question of balance-of-power politics: Who opposes whom, and when? Prussia’s best asset was its army, extracted from a small population with a thoroughly modern tax and draft system. Prussia was not a state that built an army, but an army that built a state. It emerged suddenly as a great power among the established players and so was bound to disturb Europe’s natural order. Frederick was soon encircled by all the great powers, except for Britain. This was the “nightmare of coalitions” that would torture Germany for the next two centuries. To dispel it, the “Hun” fell for the cult of the offensive: don’t wait, attack first. The strategy worked nicely at first, but brought about precisely the global coalitions that stopped Germany in the 20th century. Frederick’s Prussia, though, was saved by good luck and British subsidies. Instead of repaying the favour, Frederick’s heirs went after Albion in both world wars, with Britain barely holding on. Supposedly the master of the European balance of power, Britain made the same mistake—balancing against the wrong 72 rival—twice more. Britain miscalculated its interests again in the 19th century when it held the ring for Bismarck while he defeated Denmark, Austria and France—and conquered Germany, to boot. Britain’s former protégé had become a supersized Prussia—the “Second Reich” that was too big for Europe, but too small to dominate it. An ancient distribution of power was unhinged, and the long fuse to the first world war was lit. Britain blundered a third time after 1919, when it pulled back from the Continent, ignoring the resurgence of Germany until it was too late to stop Hitler. Like the famous quip about the British empire, German primacy was acquired in successive fits of British absentmindedness. It took the United States and Soviet Russia, Europe’s great flanking powers, to defang Germany as a threat to Europe’s “public tranquillity.” So, as the rise of Germany shows, when it came to the classic demands of balanceof-power politics—knowing who to oppose and when to oppose them—Britain got the answer wrong three times. This said, the starring role in the “struggle for mastery” should still go to Britain, and not to the “Holy Roman Empire,” as Simms seems to think. Equilibria don’t arise spontaneously; they need an organiser who recruits and maintains anti-hegemonic alliances. Henry VIII was the first to make the point with his maxim Cui adhaero praeest—“prevail shall those whom I support.” By 1577, his daughter Elizabeth was the “Umpire betwixt the Spaniards, the French, and the Estates,” gushed an admiring chronicler. “France and Spain are... the Scales in the Balance of Europe, and England the Tongue or the Holder of the Balance.” This is how Winston Churchill articulated Britain’s central tradition: “For 400 years the foreign policy of England has been to oppose the strongest, most aggressive, most dominating power on the continent... It would have been easy... to join with the strongest and share the fruits of his conquest. However, we always took the harder course, joined with the less strong powers, made a combination among them, and thus defeated the continental military tyrant whoever he was.” Churchill’s is the prototypical, if idealised, rendition of British grand strategy throughout the ages, which Palmerston cast into general law. It enjoined Britain to, in Palmerston’s words of 1840, “watch attentively and to guard with care the maintenance of the Balance of Power.” Britain engineered those Continental coalitions that laid low Habsburg-Spain, the France of the Bourbons and Bonapartes, and the Germany of the Hohenzollerns and Hitlers. This narrative amends Simms’s interpretation in two ways. One is to stress the centrality of Britain, which the author, perhaps wary of “Anglocentrism,” downplays at the risk of miss- arts & books ing out on the difference between conductor and orchestra. Others might bang the kettle drum, but Britain held the baton. Using a second corrective lens, we might look more closely at the music sheets to distinguish between the main themes and the variations. Such a lens would reveal that the “struggle for mastery” wasn’t an inchoate free for all. Seemingly a swirling melee, the struggle was in fact a series of “dominant conflicts,” a term coined by Johns Hopkins scholar George Liska. M asterfully blending theory and international history in his day, Liska is almost forgotten now (and thus ignored by Simms), perhaps because the clarity of his style did not always match the brilliance of his mind. (Full disclosure: Liska was a professor of mine who taught me much of what I know about international relations and diplomatic history.) He defines a “dominant conflict” as one that would not only “raise the winner to preponderance,” but also transform the system’s “culture and structure.” So pace Palmerston and Churchill, the game wasn’t just about mechanical equilibria of power, but also about the very “constitution” of Europe. In the crunch, realpolitik did trump ideology, “supping with the devil” sounding the basso continuo of the struggle. Yet behind the question “who shall rule?” always lurked “what shall Europe be?”—liberal or absolutist, under one God or under many? Just imagine Europe falling to Catholic Spain, the battering ram of the Counter Reformation. Or to Napoleonic tyranny, operating in the guise of national liberation. Or to Nazi/ Stalinist totalitarianism. These were the ultimate stakes in the blood-drenched annals of Europe’s wars. Hence the “dominant conflict,” fuelled by both interest and ideology, makes for a more revealing perspective than the “balance of power,” a strictly mechanical concept. Henry VIII and Elizabeth fought against not only the power, but also the ideology of Spain—Roman Catholicism with its claim to universal empire. In the course of the civil war and the Glorious Revolution, England became Europe’s first liberal state, embroiled in two parallel “dominant conflicts” against both Spain and France. These lasted for centuries, the struggle for possessions and maritime control being aggravated by the clash between absolutism and constitutionalism. In the 20th century, the “dominant conflict” was driven by Nazi Germany and communist Russia. Again, the stakes were both power and ideology, like Siamese twins. These one-on-one contests drew and redrew Europe’s map and “constitution” for 500 years. Indeed, they defined Europe until the game changed for good. The turning point was the intrusion of the United States as protector and pacifier after the second prospect april 2013 world war. Suddenly, there was a player in the game who was stronger than the others and so sterilised fear and ambition. In this perspective, the US should be seen as the true father of the European Union. Why resume fighting within when safety was assured from without? During the cold war this enabled arch-enemies like France and Germany to link hands under the umbrella of America’s strategic might. Five hundred years after it bestrode the stage as driver of history, the European nation state began to lose the hardest core of its raison d’être—to be the guardian of security. To grasp this stunning transformation, it helps to highlight another factor Simms might have rendered more explicit. By way of shorthand: the nation state made war, and war made the nation state. Its competitive advantage fed expansion, and war fused state and nation. Take war out of the system, and the nation state will have to give. Spain under Ferdinand and Isabella, France under the Valois, England under the Tudors, Russia under Ivan and Peter, Germany under Bismarck and Wilhelm—their careers are uncannily alike. First, a core state conquers the nation, then it uses its new muscle to strike out beyond. In turn, war abroad favours an even stronger state at home, which eliminates competing centres of power, monopolises loyalties and dismantles barriers to economic growth. The best example is revolutionary France. Attacked by the dynastic powers for ideological reasons, it was centralised by the Jacobins who dispatched aristocrats and liberals to the guillotine. Riding the nationalist fervour, they invented the force-multiplier of universal conscription, the levée en masse, that propelled Napoleon all the way to Moscow. In Stalin’s Russia and Hitler’s Germany, as well, totalitarian mobilisation was the child of war, and war was the father of the supreme state. That bloody journey has now come to an end in a Europe both pacified and democratised. Everybody now belongs to the same (secular) church. There is little left to fuel the next “dominant conflict.” But wait! The European saga reveals yet another pattern: the hegemonist always rings twice. Charles V of Spain, who stood at the beginning of the permanent conflict with France, was followed by Philip II, him of the armada, who took on England. The “Sun King,” Louis XIV of France, was followed by Napoleon, and Kaiser Wilhelm II by Adolf Hitler. By that reckoning, Russia, defeated in the cold war, should have another go. Will it? Simms is a historian, not a soothsayer, and so his book ends on an appropriately agnostic note—with a series of questions. But the odds are that Europe’s career as arena and wellspring of history’s most consequential wars is over. The fires of ambition and ideology have burned out, and as long as the United States remains a power in NEW TITLES FROM THE POLICY PRESS January 2013 £21.99 PB ISBN 978-1-4473-0893-5 EPUB ISBN 978-1-4473-0951-2 March 2013 £24.99 PB ISBN 978-1-4473-0513-2 EPUB ISBN 978-1-4473-0934-5 Available on Available on March 2013 £12.99 PB ISBN 978-1-4473-0688-7 EPUB ISBN 978-1-4473-0946-8 Available on March 2013 £9.99 PB ISBN 978-1-84742-849-3 EPUB ISBN 978-1-4473-0536-1 Available on Order with 20% discount from www.policypress.co.uk and Read our blog and sign up for our e-newsletter on our website Follow us on Cultural tours, private views and study days CICERONI Travel is a highly regarded company founded by Tom Duncan, specialising in cultural travel and related study days for groups and individuals SELECTED TOURS 2013 Italy’s Secret Friuli-Venezia Giulia with Tom Duncan Greeks & Romans The Antiquities of Turkey with Charles Freeman VERONA Verdi & Valpolicella With James Hill Magnificence displayed Great art collections of new york with James Hill Bohemian Heartland Art & Music in Prague with Tom Duncan To request a brochure please call 01869 811167, email or visit our website CONTACT US The Pantheon Dome, Rome +44 (0) 1869 811167 | [email protected] | www.ciceroni.co.uk Untitled-1 1 PolicyPress-Ceconi.indd 35 18/02/2013 15:48 14/03/2013 12:05 74 Europe, it will provide security in situ, which its in-and-out forebear Britain would not do. Britain’s grand strategy was “offshore antihegemonism.” As Castlereagh, the foreign secretary who helped managed the coalition that defeated Napolean, put it in 1820: “We shall be found in our place when actual danger menaces the system of Europe; but this country cannot, and will not, act upon... principles of precaution.” These days, Germany—Simms’s starring actor—is again number one on the Continent, but what a difference defeat and democracy have made! Prussia is gone, and so is the warrior culture that once thrust Hitler’s panzer armies to the gates of Cairo and arts & books Moscow. Chancellor Angela Merkel deploys only currency reserves, not battle-hardened shock troops. The EU is the “Holy Roman Empire of Democratic Nations,” that has made war inside Europe inconceivable. As in centuries past, the contest over the “constitution” of this empire has not ended, but it is peaceable to the point of boring. The contenders are the usual suspects: Britain, France and Germany. Yet there is no “tyrant,” as Churchill had it, on the horizon—the oppression by Brussels being confined to the curvature of cucumbers or the wattage of light bulbs. How about Europe as such becoming a great power? Well, yes, if… If it acquired the prospect april 2013 character and clout of a real nation-state, with a democratic sovereign below and a legitimate ruler on top, with a European identity and culture, with a credible army and a global vocation. Europe has none of the above. Its leader is the Brussels bureaucracy beholden to a feeble parliament. Its default language is English, and its pop culture American. Europe is happy and secure as it is. Never in the past 500 years has it enjoyed so much tranquillity. So why budge? As Napoleon’s mother Letizia famously mused: “Pourvu que ça dure”—provided it lasts. Josef Joffe is editor of Die Zeit. His new book, “The Myth of America’s Decline,” will be published by WW Norton in the autumn He always slips away JM Coetzee’s new novel is a profound existential comedy, says Ruth Franklin. But what does it all mean? The Childhood of Jesus by JM Coetzee (Harvill Secker, £16.99) “I am not sure he is wholly of our world,” a medical officer says of the title figure in JM Coetzee’s 1983 novel The Life and Times of Michael K. The same could be said of Coetzee himself, and the austerely bleak novels that he has been steadily turning out over a career that now spans nearly four decades. Bare and abstract, these works often take place in an unnamed, perhaps even indeterminate location, involving characters who are more like the shadow puppets of a mystery play than the fully realised psyches animated by most contemporary novelists. Radically simple in their language yet evading neat interpretation, Coetzee’s books often have the feel of allegory, though not in the classic sense in which symbols readily match up to their referents. They are, rather, like chamber works played slightly out of tune, in which the unresolved dissonance becomes an essential quality of the performance, jarring the reader out of his or her preconceptions about how fiction works. Yet despite their otherworldly tenor, Coetzee’s novels have always seemed to be commentary on the world in which we live, though it is an oblique commentary that dances in circles around reality rather than plodding alongside it. Throughout his career, Coetzee has been preoccupied with the notion of justice—together with its dark shadow, the brutality of the powerful toward the powerless—as perhaps only a South African writer can be. His early work Waiting for the Barbarians, which appeared in 1980, told the story of a man called only “the magistrate,” an officer of an unnamed empire that is obsessed with defending itself against a tribe of barbar- ians native to the land, and the trouble he finds himself in after committing a gesture of humanity toward one of the despised. In Michael K, a novel that bears comparison not only to the works of Franz Kafka but also to those of Samuel Beckett and Albert Camus, the title character is living by his wits amid a raging civil war. Over and over he is picked up by the police and forced to do hard labour or confined in concentration camp-like conditions, despite having committed no crime. These works, published during the years of apartheid, cannot but be read as a reflection of that regime of terror, although neither offers an easy political lesson. “Did you not notice how, whenever I tried to pin you down, you slipped away?” the medical officer in Michael K laments. Coetzee’s later books have explored the after-effects of apartheid even as his main preoccupation has shifted to different injustices—most notably the cruelty of humans to animals, with occasional forays into global politics. In Disgrace, for which Coetzee won his second Booker Prize in 1999 (the first was for Michael K), the middle-aged professor David Lurie is forced to resign after being caught in an affair with a student. He goes to stay with his daughter Lucy in the countryside, where the two of them are the victims of a brutal attack by a group of young African men. He is bewildered by Lucy’s refusal to tell the police the details of her assault (she was raped) and her lack of interest in prosecuting the criminals. She withdraws into her own world, leaving him to fill his days by volunteering at the local animal shelter, a place of “last resort” where the only way to heal is to kill. “This is the only life there is. Which we share with animals,” Lucy tells her father early in the novel. The question of whether we must meet the same fate is left unanswered. Coetzee’s vision, it should be clear, is deeply moral. It is not, however, an explicitly religious vision: God plays no obvious role in his scenarios of the inhumanities we perpetrate against man and beast. So the apparently unironic title of the new novel, The Childhood of Jesus, comes as a shock. But it is soon evident that this book— deeply absorbing and uncanny, but even more opaque than what we have come to expect from this writer—is no Nativity story. What it has to do with Jesus is Coetzee’s latest unanswered question. A man and a boy have arrived in a city called Novilla. We are told nothing of its location except that the residents speak Spanish. The two are unrelated; they met aboard the ship that brought them to this new world. During the journey, the boy lost a letter he had with him that presumably identified his parents. Now the man has become his de facto guardian, resolving to find the boy’s mother. Their names—given to them by the authorities upon their arrival—are Simón and David, but more often they are simply called “man” and “boy.” Where have they come from, and what happened that caused them to lose everything, even their identities? The novel explains that new arrivals at Novilla are “washed clean by the passage here,” untroubled by memories of their previous lives. (Coetzee has long been fascinated by the notion of the castaway, a man washed up on a foreign shore, like Robinson Crusoe, with nothing to identify who he is or where he has come from.) “What are we here for?” David asks Simón early on. Simón ignores the philosophical impli- arts & books 75 © bert nienhuis prospect april 2013 JM Coetzee: his novels, including the 1999 Booker Prize-winner Disgrace, are “radically simple in their language yet evade neat interpreation” cations of the question. “We are here for the same reason everyone else is. We have been given a chance to live and we have accepted that chance… There is nowhere else to be but here.” Life in Novilla is straightforward, if not exactly easy. Simón and David are given an apartment and an allowance. Simón finds employment on the docks as a stevedore, where he enjoys the camaraderie of his fellow workers. A detached benevolence characterises all personal affairs. On the first day, when Simón has no money for food, the foreman offers him the contents of his own pocket. Over lunch, the stevedores debate philosophical questions, and in the evenings they gather at the Institute, which offers free classes in everything from Spanish to drawing. A music teacher named Elena offers David free lessons. “There are more important things than money,” she tells Simón. “Music, yes, but also how one lives.” Are they in paradise—or hell? There is something creepy about all this placidity. It is as if everyone has been lobotomised. When Simón and Elena begin sleeping together, they “do the business of sex.” Blandness pervades everything: even the local food is unseasoned. But the residents of Novilla are satisfied, or seem to be, with exactly what they have. Only Simón wants more. He cannot tolerate the absence of strong feeling—the stevedores’ lack of ambition, Elena’s matter-of-fact approach to sexual relations, even the lack of pleasure to be taken in eating. This is more than just the old struggle between the body and the head, from which virtually all of Coetzee’s male protagonists suffer. When Simón complains that he is continually hungry, it is because he cannot fill his soul—with work, with thought, with love. Coetzee’s novels have often showed more of an interest in philosophical problems than in emotional ones; a certain coldness pervades them. This is a writer who is deeply, relentlessly serious. A profile that appeared in the New Statesman some years ago noted his “almost monkish self-discipline and dedication” and cited a colleague of over a decade who “claims to have seen him laugh just once.” It is something of a relief, then, to discover real humour in this novel. Part of Simón’s frustration in Novilla is that no one seems to get his jokes; everything he says is taken at face value. Perhaps Coetzee feels the same. To be sure, the humour in this novel tends to be of the existential variety. At one point Simón visits the local bordello, Salón Confort, where he must fill out an application, in which he goes on at length describing the attributes he desires in a “therapist,” the duration of their meetings and so on. The acceptance letter never arrives, and he rues his honesty on the form. “Someone young and pretty,” he wishes he had written, “thirty minutes will do.” But the novel seems to be utterly serious in its insistence that David is a kind of Jesus figure. One day Simón and David go on a hike that leads them to a gated mansion. Behind the fence, a woman is playing tennis. When Simón sees her, he is convinced that she is David’s mother, via a kind of immaculate conception. (Her name happens to be Inés—meaning “pure, holy, chaste.”) And the woman consents. She moves into Simón’s apartment and accepts David as her son. 76 The symbolic evidence continues to mount. David’s best friend is named Fidel, “faith.” (Fidel’s mother is Elena, “light.”) After Inés tells David a story about a son who sacrifices himself for his mother, he becomes obsessed with it. He refuses to believe in the concept of infinity, and insists to Simón that he can speak in his own language. “He looks into the boy’s eyes. For the briefest of moments he sees something there. He has no name for it. It is like… Like a fish that wriggles loose as you try to grasp it. But not like a fish—no, like like a fish. Or like like like a fish.” When a teacher tells him to write “I must tell the truth” on the blackboard, he writes instead, “I am the truth.” But the meaning of all this is not at all obvious. If the boy is a saviour, what does he offer salvation from? In Disgrace, David Lurie—he and the boy share that biblically loaded name—muses, as he prepares euthanised dogs for cremation, that “he may not be their saviour, but he is prepared to take care of them once they are unable, utterly unable, to take care of themselves.” He cannot save the dogs from death, but he can ease their passage into it. Simón has complained that his life is “not enough… I wish someone, some saviour, would descend from the skies and wave a magic wand and say, Behold, read this book and all your questions will be answered. Or, Behold, here is an entirely new life for you.” But as far as the novel is concerned, he is already living a new life. Simón seems to be the only one who cannot abide the death-in-life conditions in Novilla: bloodless, passionless, without history or promise of future. I couldn’t help imagining how the expe- arts & books rience of reading this book would have been different if it only had a different title, one of Coetzee’s usual abstractions: A New Life, say. But the imposition of Jesus wrenches the book beyond obliqueness into a symbolic universe where it does not quite seem to fit. One tries to pin it down, and it slips away, like a fish. Or like like a fish. I n the years since apartheid’s end, the South African writers who came up from within it have begun to direct their attention to other subjects. Some, such as André Brink, have turned their gaze inward on the history of their country; others have leaned out into the world at large. Coetzee is in the second category. In recent years his writing has attended, often polemically, to the major political issues of the 21st century: the war in Iraq, Guantánamo, the corruption of American power. In his 2007 novel, Diary of a Bad Year, which incorporates essays on contemporary politics written by a Coetzee-like figure, the writer compares the situation of Americans during the Bush years to the shame white South Africans feel for “the crimes that were committed in their name.” That shame, of course, is what animated Coetzee’s great political novels of the 1980s. But the difference is that America’s crimes were committed not only in the name of American citizens, but with the goal of keeping the world safe from militant Islam. Thus the shame that spreads in the wake of these crimes is not limited to Americans, but is a blight on all. It is not Americans alone who must save their honour in the face of torture and unjust imprisonment, but everyone. “Inasmuch as it is a world-hegemonic power, [America] is in an prospect april 2013 important sense my country too, and everyone else’s on the planet,” Coetzee wrote recently. This remark appears in a recently published book of correspondence between Coetzee and Paul Auster (Here and Now: Letters, 2008—2011). Though the letters span the period during which Coetzee must have been working on The Childhood of Jesus, he never writes specifically about the novel. But there is a fascinating passage in which Coetzee reflects in uncharacteristically blunt terms on the nature of writing itself. The writer, he suggests, is a kind of sacrificial figure: “There is a lot of romantic bullshit spoken about the writing life, about the despair of confronting the blank page, about the anguish of inspiration that won’t come, about unpredictable—and unreliable—fits of sleepless, fevered creation, about the nagging and unquenchable self-doubt, and so on. But it’s not entirely bullshit, is it? Writing is a matter of giving and giving and giving, without much respite. I think of the pelican that Shakespeare is so fond of, that tears open its breast in order to feed its offspring on its blood.” But sacrifice does not always equal salvation. As a writer, Coetzee can no more absolve us of the world’s corruption than David Lurie, faced with a roomful of dogs to be euthanised, can pre-empt their fate. The dissonance of his works is a way of expressing that failure: life as a perpetual series of chords that will not resolve. Ruth Franklin is a contributing editor at The New Republic and is currently a fellow at the Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers. She is working on a biography of Shirley Jackson The last revolution Four decades ago someone asked Clement Greenberg, America’s most influential art critic and the high priest of abstract expressionism, what he thought about Pop art. It seems Marilyn Monroe silk screens did not impress him. “It will probably last the way the pictures of Gérôme or Bouguereau… have lasted,” Greenberg predicted—naming two French academic painters now overshadowed by the Impressionists. “It is nice small art and it is respectable, but it is not good enough to keep high art going.” As so often, though, Greenberg turned out to be on the wrong side of art history. Pop hasn’t just endured; it has triumphed, and on both sides of the Atlantic its visibility is greater than ever. On 14th April the Museum of Modern Art in New York opens a years-in-the-making retrospective of Claes Oldenburg, the Swedish-born American sculptor best known for massive reproductions of everyday items—an ice cream cone, a lipstick. (It’s something of a homecoming: Oldenburg’s brother Richard was director of MoMA for 22 years.) And after stops in Chicago and Washington, a remarkable and eye-opening exhibition devoted to Roy Lichtenstein is now on view at Tate Modern in London, which includes not just the artist’s comic bookstyle paintings, but sculpture, drawings, and collage. More than Minimalism or abstract painting, Pop has become the defining style of the 1960s—and 50 years on, not © Claes Oldenburg Pop changed the art world forever, says Jason Farago Claes Oldenburg with his ice cream cone © 1965 – 77 Claes Oldenburg. Photo: mumok prospect april 2013 only have the prices for Pop art reached stratospheric heights, but its critical and cultural credibility has never been more solid. It is decidedly establishment now, and visitors to MoMA or the Tate today look at this work with very different eyes. The shift that these artists effected—assimilating mass culture into high art—is taken for granted now, and their impostures now inspire more veneration than shock. Lichtenstein, Oldenburg, and their colleagues were responding not just to the explosion of commerce and commercial images in the years after the second world war, but the homogenisation and banality that went along with it. Shocked critics misunderstood Pop as a dumb celebration of mass culture; the art historian Michael Fried lamented Oldenburg’s “naive aesthetic” in 1962, while the New York Times, in 1964, called Lichtenstein “one of the worst artists in America.” But lowbrow subject matter was not an end in itself, nor was its use especially innovative. The Dadaists had integrated the ephemera of popular culture into their work long before, and in London Eduardo Paolozzi was reworking pulp novel covers as early as the late 1940s. Something bigger is going on in Lichtenstein than mere translation. His paintings play a double game—they expose the emptiness of manufactured popular imagery, but they also chip away at the distinction of art, and the social structures that produce that distinction. And Oldenburg’s early plastic sculptures, which he sold himself at illogical prices in a packedto-the-rafters New York storefront, were hardly just goofy knick-knacks; they called into question the most fundamental rules of both art and economic exchange. It was arts & books 77 Taking the Mickey: Oldenburg’s giant Mouse Museum (1965–77) which contains display cases with nearly 400 objects the same with Andy Warhol’s Brillo boxes, Wayne Thiebaud’s gumball machines, and Ed Ruscha’s gas stations: Pop may have been cool in appearance, but it was radical in consequence. In one way, the stakes of Pop are clearer to us than they were to contemporary audiences. Compared to 1963, in 2013 it’s much easier to see past mere subject matter, the Coca-Cola bottles and Mickey Mouse cartoons, and dig into the political and social resonances that Pop has always had within it. (The exhibition “Sinister Pop,” which closes at New York’s Whitney Museum of American Art on 31st March, did an excellent job showcasing the darker dimensions of the movement, how it reflected everything from the war in Vietnam to racial discrimination.) Not only that: the values of Pop has been so triumphant that today we have no expectation, when we go to an art gallery, of some pure aesthetic experience beyond the “real world” of economic flows, mass media, or even geopolitics. Art now is simply a constituent component of one giant image stream, and Pop offers a rare opportunity to interrogate the rules that govern it and to think about how it can be disrupted or remade. At the same time, Lichtenstein and Oldenburg should also remind us of the much lower stakes of our contemporary artistic moment, when the category of “art” is so capacious, and the reach of the market so wide, that there’s no longer any real possibility of making as large a splash as they did. Pop looked straightforward, even mundane, to its first viewers, but it ended up shaking the very foundations of culture. The kind of exclusionary judgement that Pop upended is now a thing of the past, though, and not even the most critical or disruptive practices can produce the slightest wobble in the supremacy of the art market—a market in which Lichtenstein, Oldenburg and especially Warhol are now blue-chip commodities. Pop really was an artistic revolution. But the most important and most sobering lesson to be learned at MoMA and the Tate this spring is that it might have been the last one. Jason Farago is a New York-based writer and critic 78 arts & books prospect april 2013 Remaking Strindberg Director Katie Mitchell is at war with Britain’s parochial theatre culture, says James Woodall moderns such as Martin Crimp and Simon Stephens, as well as a groundbreaking, video-savvy adaptation of Virginia Woolf ’s novel The Waves, have attracted as much vitriol as admiration. “Britain’s most overrated director,” brayed Alastair Macaulay in the Financial Times in response to her 2005 National Theatre production of Strindberg’s A Dream Play. He compounded the attack a year later by claiming that Mitchell “lays out a play on a slab like an anatomy lesson and makes performance art with its entrails.” I do not allude to these barbs with Mitchell, though we are here in fact to talk about Strindberg. Her German version of Miss Julie, created at the Schaubühne in 2010, visits London’s Barbican at the end of April. The play is performed, radically, solely from the point of view of the servant, Kristin (the wonderful Jule Böwe). Inventive use is made of live video again, a technique evolved from Waves (as the production was actually called). There’s a score for a cellist. In one important scene, when Kristin falls asleep, 20 pages of Strindberg are skipped and, instead, the sleeper’s dreams are imagined. For traditionalists it’s the kind of thing to guarantee cardiac unhappiness. Mitch- © Stephen Cummiskey On a cold Berlin morning I’m in the café of one of Europe’s great theatres, the Schaubühne, to meet the director Katie Mitchell. Given her reputation as a fierce iconoclast, encountering Mitchell in person is a surprise. The first things you notice about her are a winning friendliness—she smiles openly—and intense pale blue eyes. In a high laugh she apologises for being late. She’s been waiting in the wrong café: her favourite, next to the Schaubühne. She’s in Berlin for The Yellow Wallpaper, a production based on a short story by the late 19th-century American writer and feminist Charlotte Perkins Gilman. Mitchell is a ferociously hard worker—for the Schaubühne she’s devised a technologically complex staging, set in modern Germany, which uses gauzes, water and five live cameras. In the play a post-natal depressive hallucinates about another woman behind yellow wallpaper and tears it all off. It’s in the mould of Roman Polanski’s film Repulsion, Mitchell explains. Back home, Mitchell shows in this vein have earned her a reputation for bleakness. Some critics hate her. True, her aesthetic is severe; she strips plays down, turns them inside out and challenges them. Her visually driven stagings of classics (Greek, Russian, Scandinavian), and of work by British Katie Mitchell’s new adaptation of Strindberg’s Miss Julie makes inventive use of live video ell’s 2006 NT chiaroscuro remake of Chekhov’s The Seagull, for example—English by Martin Crimp—had some, public and critics alike, groaning in their seats. Then, in a Times interview in a year later, the National’s chief Nicholas Hytner rounded on “dead white men”—certain well-known critics—for dissing Mitchell not just because of her high-art “Europeanness” but, more controversially, her sex (Hytner was also defending Kneehigh’s Emma Rice). Let’s nail that jelly. Prominent women theatre directors in Britain have been rare, but things have, interestingly, changed even since the men-critics episode. Along with Emma Rice, Marianne Elliott has had regular successes at the NT. Josie Rourke now runs the Donmar Warehouse. Vicky Featherstone is about to take over at the Royal Court. Erica Whyman is second in command at the Royal Shakespeare Company. When it comes to women making big theatre waves, are we past misogyny? “No,” Mitchell says. “And it’s the same in Germany. Anywhere. Lots of things knotted together create the problem. Part of it is biology and therefore to do with children [Mitchell has a seven-year-old girl]. Another strand is connected to a different way of perceiving and experiencing the world. Because one way, the male, dominates, the other way can be seen as wrong, as opposed to being celebrated as different. Maybe it’s also to do with behaviour, presentation. Selling.” Mitchell should know. After Oxford in the mid-1980s and assisting at the Royal Shakespeare Company she took off for Russia and Eastern Europe to explore theatre there, and, back in the UK, founded an influential but financially threadbare company, Classics on a Shoestring. She wanted to do her own thing, based on her foreign discoveries. She enjoyed and enjoys difficulty. In a parochial theatre culture, it was always going to be a fight. Mitchell’s schooling was Continental. Theatre in many nonEnglish cultures, especially German and French, is seen as a forum to discuss, dissect and even quarrel with well-known plays, which can confer disproportionate authority on a director. The British mainstream famously resists textual sabotage, and this is what Mitchell has been repeatedly accused of. An actor who worked for her in the 1990s observes: “She is a bit hard core and this marks her out. But she doesn’t mind the knocks.” Today, at 48, Mitchell is invited to top prospect april 2013 theatres across Europe. She directs what she likes, opera included (from Aix to the Royal Opera House), with a British production team she’s worked with for years. Shows in Britain are piling up for 2014— The Cherry Orchard at the Young Vic, Così fan tutte at English National Opera—and in 2009 she got an OBE. Until December of 79 arts & books last year she’d been an associate director of the National for a decade. With success like that, the knives will be out for her production of Fräulein Julie. Mitchell, who’ll ignore them, makes no inflated claims for the show: “It’s a simple experiment. You can get the whole story with the subtraction of acres of material. I do this only because it’s a very owned play. My production visited Ingmar Bergman’s theatre in Stockholm, which was scary. I thought the audience would fall ill. But they were fine! They had a vertiginous time.” James Woodall is an associate editor of Prospect The month in books April’s selections span from the earliest origins of life to a satirical look at the “rise of Asia” in the 21st century, says Rose Jacobs Over a decade after the beginning of the “war on terror,” the language of good versus evil and with us or against us is as unpalatable as it’s ever been. David Cannadine shares the distaste. His latest book, The Undivided Past (Allen Lane, £20), appears to have been spurred by a deep aversion to this sort of binary thinking, both in contemporary politics and among his fellow historians. To divide the world by religion, nation, class, gender, race or—most egregiously, perhaps—“civilisation” is to deeply and dangerously, and sometimes willfully, misunderstand history, he argues. The book is a pleasure thanks to Cannadine’s clear writing and sweeping summary of centuries of (largely western) thought, as well as his sharp dissection of writers ranging from Gibbon to Marx to Harvard political scientist Samuel Huntington. Of course, embracing “our common humanity” rather than focusing on difference is easiest done from a place of satisfaction and safety; class struggle, independence movements and battles for equal rights have a track record of changing, and often improving, the status quo. Without these frameworks, what will? To write one novel in second-person narrative may be regarded as a stunt; to write two looks like masochism. Mohsin Hamid has already proved his formal dexterity with The Reluctant Fundamentalist. In How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia (Hamish Hamilton, £14.99), he multiplies the feats. The book is loosely constructed as a literal how-to guide—move to the city, befriend a bureaucrat, and so on—though each chapter soon settles into classical storytelling, narrating the life of a poor boy made good. One senses, however, that here, being a self-made man is about much more than wealth. In a chapter that ruminates on life and death, we are told: “There was a moment when anything was possible. And there will be a moment when nothing is possible. But in between we can create.” On top of the self-help conceit, Hamid adds a second formal trick, universalising his tale by leaving his characters nameless, his places untied to a map. That this enhances rather than detracts from the emotion of the story demonstrates the power of his prose. Chimimanda Ngozi Adichie’s Orange Prize-winning Half a Yellow Sun, published in 2006, was set in Nigeria, but her short stories since have plumbed the bifurcated existence of African immigrants in the west—people struggling to adjust to new lives abroad even as that adjustment moves them further from home. Americanah (Fourth Estate, £20) lets these themes breathe in the larger space of a novel, as well as taking on the tricky topics of race in America and the UK. Ifemelu, a spirited Lagos native, moves to the US as a young woman and navigates the labyrinthine path to a semi-settled life there, eventually earning a living writing a blog about “American Blacks (Those Formerly Known as Negroes) by a Non-American Black.” Her childhood boyfriend meanwhile tries, and fails, to thrive in Britain. While both stories are movingly and often subtly told, a wider cast of paper-thin characters at times undermines the project. Adam Rutherford’s Creation: The Origin of Life / The Future of Life (Viking, £20) is a book in two halves. The first sleuths its way back in time and deep into the oceans to probe the moment chemistry first produced biology. The second half studies recent efforts to re-engineer the genetic code. Rutherford, a geneticist, journalist and broadcaster, can get a bit breathless in his descriptions: complex life, we learn, includes “you and me and yeast and snakes and algae and fungus, flowers, trees and turnips.” I found the section on synthetic biology (genetic engineering as an applied science) mystifying, less for the breakthroughs described than the decision to spend large chunks of it making “the case for progress”—a case that critics of GM foods or GM animals will find unconvincing and the rest of us will find unsurprising. But the suspenseful origin-of-life tale is erudite and thrilling. In Small Wars, Far Away Places (Macmillan, £25), historian Michael Burleigh—author of The Third Reich, which won the 2001 Samuel Johnson Prize— traverses the globe in the two decades following the second world war. This, he argues, was a time when American isolationism and distaste for European colonialism gave way to a policy of Soviet containment that ensured the cold war would become a global ideological conflict. The narrative is, by the author’s own admission, geographically and temporally discursive, an arrangement that pleasingly echoes its characters’ peregrinations. In Burleigh’s telling, diplomats, revolutionaries and world leaders alike stepped forward, back and sideways— a shuffle often smoothed, in hindsight and for political purposes, into a more straightforward march. Burleigh, who writes a blog for the Daily Mail and penned an occasionally vitriolic work on terrorism in 2009, is here as ready to acknowledge the cruelty and foibles of western presidents and prime ministers—on the left and right—as he is those of Stalin, Mao or any number of politicians and soldiers trying to throw off their colonial rulers. But for all he admits the Americans at the time were, as a rule, both self-righteous and self-serving, they get many an approving nod. Rose Jacobs is a journalist based in Munich 80 prospect april 2013 Fiction Javier MarÍas Javier Marías is Spain’s most celebrated living novelist. His work has been translated into 32 languages and has won many international literary awards. WG Sebald wrote of Marías that, “he uses language like an anatomist uses the scalpel to cut away the layers of the flesh in order to lay bare the innermost secrets of that strangest of species, the human being.” The passage below comes from the beginning of Marías’s new novel The Infatuations. The narrator, María Dolz, describes how she became obsessed with a couple who would come each morning to the café where she ate her breakfast. It was not until later that she discovered the identity of the man, when she saw his photo in a newspaper after he had been stabbed to death. The Infatuations T he last time I saw Miguel Desvern or Deverne was also the last time that his wife, Luisa, saw him, which seemed strange, perhaps unfair, given that she was his wife, while I, on the other hand, was a person he had never met, a woman with whom he had never exchanged so much as a single word. I didn’t even know his name, or only when it was too late, only when I saw a photo in the newspaper, showing him after he had been stabbed several times, with his shirt half off, and about to become a dead man, if he wasn’t dead already in his own absent consciousness, a consciousness that never returned: his last thought must have been that the person stabbing him was doing so by mistake and for no reason, that is, senselessly, and what’s more, not just once, but over and over, unremittingly, with the intention of erasing him from the world and expelling him from the earth without further delay, right there and then. But why do I say “too late,” I wonder, too late for what? I have no idea, to be honest. It’s just that when someone dies, we always think it’s too late for anything, or indeed everything—certainly too late to go on waiting for him—and we write him off as another casualty. It’s the same with those closest to us, although we find their deaths much harder to accept and we mourn them, and their image accompanies us in our mind both when we’re out and about and when we’re at home, even though for a long time we believe that we will never get accustomed to their absence. From the start, though, we know—from the moment they die—that we can no longer count on them, not even for the most petty thing, for a trivial phone call or a banal question (“Did I leave my car keys there?” “What time did the kids get out of school today?”), that we can count on them for nothing. And nothing means nothing. It’s incomprehensible really, because it assumes a certainty and being certain of anything goes against our nature: the certainty that someone will never come back, never speak again, never take another step—whether to come closer or to move farther off—will never look at us or look away. I don’t know how we bear it, or how we recover. I don’t know how it is that we do gradually begin to forget, when time has passed and distanced us from © Extracted from “The Infatuations” by Javier Marías (Hamish Hamilton, £18.99 © Javier Marías 2013 them, for they, of course, have remained quite still. But I had often seen him and heard him talk and laugh, almost every morning, in fact, over a period of a few years, and quite early in the morning too, although not so very early, in fact, I used to delay slightly getting into work just so as to be able spend a little time with that couple, and not just with him, you understand, but with them both, it was the sight of them together that calmed and contented me before my working day began. They became almost obligatory. No, that’s the wrong word for something that gives one pleasure and a sense of peace. Perhaps they became a superstition, but, no, that’s not it either: it wasn’t that I believed the day would go badly if I didn’t share breakfast with them, at a distance, that is; it was just that, without my daily sighting of them, I began work feeling rather lower in spirits or less optimistic, as if they provided me with a vision of an orderly or, if you prefer, harmonious world, or perhaps a tiny fragment of the world visible only to a very few, as is the case with any fragment or any life, however public or exposed that life might be. I didn’t like to shut myself away for hours in the office without first having seen and observed them, not on the sly, but discreetly, the last thing I would have wanted was to make them feel uncomfortable or to bother them in any way. And it would have been unforgivable and to my own detriment to frighten them off. It comforted me to breathe the same air and to be a part—albeit unnoticed—of their morning landscape, before they went their separate ways, probably until the next meal, which, on many days, would have been supper. The last day on which his wife and I saw him, they could not dine together. Or even have lunch. She waited twenty minutes for him at a restaurant table, puzzled but not overly concerned, until the phone rang and her world ended, and she never waited for him again. I t was clear to me from the very first day that they were married, he was nearly fifty and she slightly younger, not yet forty. The nicest thing about them was seeing how much they enjoyed each other’s company. At an hour when almost no one is in the mood for anything, still less for fun and games, they talked non-stop, laughing and joking, as Fiction 81 © Elliott Erwitt/Magnum prospect april 2013 if they had only just met or met for the very first time, and not as if they had left the house together, dropped the kids off at school, having first got washed and dressed at the same time—perhaps in the same bathroom—and woken up in the same bed, nor as if the first thing they’d seen had been the inevitable face of their spouse, and so on and on, day after day, for a fair number of years, because they had children, a boy and a girl, who came with them on a couple of occasions, the girl must have been about eight and the boy about four, and the boy looked incredibly like his father. The husband dressed with a slightly old-fashioned elegance, although he never seemed in any way ridiculous or anachronistic. I mean that he was always smartly dressed and well coordinated, with made-to-measure shirts, expensive, sober ties, a handkerchief in his top jacket pocket, cufflinks, polished lace-up shoes— black or else suede, although he only wore suede towards the end of spring, when he started wearing lighter-coloured suits—and his hands were carefully manicured. Despite all this, he didn’t give the impression of being some vain executive or a dyed-inthe-wool rich kid. He seemed more like a man whose upbringing would not allow him to go out in the street dressed in any other way, not at least on a working day; such clothes seemed natural to him, as if his father had taught him that, after a certain age, this was the appropriate way to dress, regardless of any foolish and instantly outmoded fashions, and regardless, too, of the raggedy times in which we live, and that he need not be affected by these in the least. He dressed so traditionally that I never once detected a single eccentric detail; he wasn’t interested in trying to look different, although he did stand out a little in the context of the café where I always saw him and even perhaps in the context of our rather scruffy city. This naturalness was matched by his undoubtedly cordial, cheery nature, almost hail-fellow-wellmet you might say (although he addressed the waiters formally as usted and treated them with a kindness that never toppled over into cloying familiarity): his frequent outbursts of laughter were somewhat loud, it’s true, but never irritatingly so. He laughed easily and with gusto, but he always did so sincerely and sympathetically, never in a flattering, sycophantic manner, but as if responding to things that genuinely amused him, as many things did, for he was a generous man, ready to see the funny side of the situation and to applaud other people’s jokes, at least the verbal variety. Perhaps it was his wife who mainly made him laugh, for there are people who can make us laugh even when they don’t intend to, largely because their very presence pleases us, and so it’s easy enough to set us off, simply seeing them and being in their company and hearing them is all it takes, even if they’re not saying anything very extraordinary or are even deliberately spouting nonsense, which we nevertheless find funny. They seemed to fulfil that role for each other; and although they were clearly married, I never caught one of them putting on an artificial or studiedly soppy expression, like some couples who have lived together for years and make a point of showing how much in love they still are, as if that somehow increased their value or embellished them. No, it was more as if they were determined to get on together and make a good impression on each other with a view to possible courtship; or as if they had been so drawn to each other before they were married or lived together that, in any circumstance, they would have spontaneously chosen each other—not out of conjugal duty or convenience or habit or even loyalty—as companion or partner, friend, conversationalist or accomplice, in the knowledge that, whatever happened, whatever transpired, whatever there was to tell or to hear, it would always be less interesting or amusing with someone else. Without her in his case, without him in her case. There was a camaraderie between them and, above all, a certainty. T here was something very pleasant about Miguel Desvern or Deverne’s face, it exuded a kind of manly warmth, which made him seem very attractive from a distance and led me to imagine that he would be irresistible in person. I doubtless noticed him before I did Luisa, or else it was because of him that I also noticed her, since although I often saw the wife without the husband—he would leave the café first and she nearly always stayed on for a few minutes longer, sometimes alone, smoking a cigarette, sometimes with a few work colleagues or mothers from school or friends, who on some mornings joined them there 82 Fiction at the last moment, when he was already just about to leave— I never saw the husband without his wife beside him. I have no image of him alone, he only existed with her (that was one of the reasons why I didn’t at first recognise him in the newspaper, because Luisa wasn’t there). But I soon became interested in them both, if “interested” is the right word. Desvern had short, thick, very dark hair, with, at his temples, just a few grey hairs, which seemed curlier than the rest (if he had let his sideburns grow, they might have sprouted incongruously into kiss-curls). The expression in his eyes was bright, calm and cheerful, and there was a glimmer of ingenuousness or childishness in them whenever he was listening to someone else, the expression of a man who is, generally speaking, amused by life, or who is simply not prepared to go through life without enjoying its million and one funny sides, even in the midst of difficulties and misfortunes. True, he had probably known very few of these compared with what is most men’s common lot, and that would have helped him to preserve those trusting, smiling eyes. They were grey and seemed to look at everything as if everything were a novelty, even the insignificant things they saw repeated every day, that café at the top of Príncipe de Vergara and its waiters, my silent face. He had a cleft chin, which reminded me of a film starring Robert Mitchum or Cary Grant or Kirk Douglas, I can’t remember who it was now, and in which an actress places one finger on the actor’s dimpled chin and asks how he manages to shave in there. Every morning, it made me feel like getting up from my table, going over to Deverne and asking him the same question and, in turn, gently prodding his chin with my thumb or forefinger. He was always very well shaven, dimple included. They took far less notice of me, infinitely less than I did of them. They would order their breakfast at the bar and, once served, take it over to a table by the large window that gave onto the street, while I took a seat at a table towards the back. In spring and summer, we would all sit outside, and the waiters would pass our orders through a window that opened out next to the bar, and this gave rise to various comings and goings and, therefore, to more visual contact, because there was no other form of contact. Both Desvern and Luisa occasionally glanced at me, merely out of curiosity, but never for very long or for any reason. He never looked at me in an insinuating, castigating or arrogant manner, that would have been a disappointment, and she never showed any sign of suspicion, superiority or disdain, which I would have found most upsetting. Because I liked both of them, you see, the two of them together. I didn’t regard them with envy, not at all, but with a feeling of relief that in the real world there could exist what I believed to be a perfect couple. Indeed, they seemed even more perfect in that Luisa’s sartorial appearance was in complete contrast to that of Deverne, as regards style and choice of clothes. At the side of such a smartly turned out man, one would have expected to see a woman who shared the same characteristics, classically elegant, although not perhaps predictably so, but wearing a skirt and high heels most of the time, with clothes by Céline, for example, and earrings and bracelets that were striking, but always in good taste. In fact, she alternated between a rather sporty look and one that I’m not sure whether to describe as casual or indifferent, certainly nothing elaborate anyway. She was as tall as him, olive-skinned, with shoulder-length, dark, almost black hair, and very little make-up. When she wore trousers—usually jeans—she accompanied them with a conventional jacket prospect april 2013 and boots or flat shoes; when she wore a skirt, her shoes were low-heeled and plain, very like the shoes many women wore in the 1950s, and in summer, she put on skimpy sandals that revealed delicate feet, small for a woman of her height. I never saw her wearing any jewellery and, as for handbags, she only ever used the sort you sling over your shoulder. She was clearly as pleasant and cheerful as he was, although her laugh wasn’t quite as loud; but she laughed just as easily and possibly even more warmly than he did, revealing splendid teeth that gave her a somewhat child-like look, or perhaps it was simply the way her cheeks grew rounder when she smiled—she had doubtless laughed in exactly the same unguarded way ever since she was four years old. It was as if they had got into the habit of taking a break together before going off to their respective jobs, once the morning bustle was over—inevitable in families with small children, a moment to themselves, so as not to have to part in the middle of all that rush without sharing a little animated conversation. I used to wonder what they talked about or told each other—how could they possibly have so much to say, given that they went to bed and got up together and would presumably keep each other informed of their thoughts and activities—I only ever caught fragments of their conversation, or just the odd word or two. On one occasion, I heard him call her “princess.” You could say that I wished them all the best in the world, as if they were characters in a novel or a film for whom one is rooting right from the start, knowing that something bad is going to happen to them, that at some point, things will go horribly wrong, otherwise, there would be no novel or film. In real life, though, there was no reason why that should be the case, and I expected to continue seeing them every morning exactly as they were, without ever sensing between them a unilateral or mutual coolness, or that they had nothing to say and were impatient to be rid of each other, a look of reciprocal irritation or indifference on their faces. They were the brief, modest spectacle that lifted my mood before I went to work at the publishing house to wrestle with my megalomaniac boss and his horrible authors. If Luisa and Desvern did not appear for a few days, I would miss them and face my day’s work with a heavier heart. In a way, without realising or intending to, I felt indebted to them, they helped me get through the day and allowed me to fantasise about their life, which I imagined to be unblemished, so much so that I was glad not to be able to confirm this view or find out more, and thus risk breaking the temporary spell (my own life was full of blemishes, and the truth is that I didn’t give the couple another thought until the following morning, while I sat on the bus cursing because I’d had to get up so early, which is something I loathe). I would have liked to give them something similar in exchange, but how could I? They didn’t need me or, perhaps, anyone, I was almost invisible, erased by their contentment. A couple of times when he left, having first, as usual, kissed Luisa on the lips—she never remained seated for that kiss, but stood up to reciprocate it—he would give me a slight nod, almost a bow, having first looked up and half-raised one hand to say goodbye to the waiters, as if I were just another waiter, a female one. His observant wife made a similar gesture when I left—always after him and before her—on the same two occasions when her husband had been courteous enough to do so. But when I tried to return that gesture with my own even slighter nod, both he and she had looked away and didn’t even see me. They were so quick, or so prudent. The NEW EDITION Military Balance 2013 ‘The Military Balance is the unique and vital resource on which informed public debate of the world’s armed forces is founded.’ William S. Cohen, former U.S. Secretary of Defense ‘Quite simply the definitive resource on current military and strategic affairs.’ Edited by The International Institute for Strategic Studies Choice The Military Balance is The International Institute for Strategic Studies’ annual assessment of the military capabilities and defence economics of 171 countries worldwide. Offering region-by-region analysis and comprehensive data on weapons and defence economics it is an essential resource for those involved in security policy making, analysis and research. Key features of The Military Balance 2013 include: ❱ New sections on trends in contemporary armed conflicts in Afghanistan and Syria, as well as trends in defence capability areas, with a focus on equipment, technological or doctrinal developments. ❱ Detailed analysis of regional and national defence policy and economic issues for selected states. ❱ Updated graphics feature on comparative defence statistics, with focus on defence economics and major land, sea and air capability concerns. March 2013 • Pb 978-1-85743-680-8 • 572PP To find out more please visit: www.tandfonline.com/tmib or for more information please contact: [email protected] The International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS) is the world’s leading authority on political-military conflict. It is the primary independent source of accurate, objective information on international strategic issues for politicians and diplomats, foreign affairs analysts, international business, economists, the military, defence commentators, journalists, academics and the informed public. TMIB-115x180-ad v2.indd 1 11/03/2013 18:07 Prospect - can leaders… - 115x180mm)_Layout 1 18/02/2013 14:37 Page 1 The Sir John Cass’s Foundation Lecture Can Leaders Make a Difference to Organisational Performance? I n this lecture Andrew Pettigrew, Professor of Strategy and Organisation at the Saïd Business School, University of Oxford, will introduce the field of Business and Management research by exploring one of its central questions. He will explore what is known and not known about the links between leadership, change and organisational performance. Are the biggest leadership challenges for the future not just in the familiar territory of institutional change, but the much more difficult area of changing large, complex systems? Thursday 18 April 6 – 7.15pm followed by a reception In partnership with: FREE. Seats allocated on a first come, first served basis. Charing Cross, Piccadilly Routledge/BritAc.indd 35 10-11 Carlton House Terrace, London SW1Y 5AH 13/03/2013 12:49 84 prospect april 2013 The generalist by Didymus Enigmas & puzzles The lion’s share Ian Stewart A lion, a leopard and a cheetah were meeting to agree how to divide up the savannah into hunting grounds for each species. They agreed that the lions would have half of the total area minus 4,200 square kilometres. The cheetahs would get two thirds of the lions’ share plus 1,000 square kilometres. The leopards would get the average of what the lions and cheetahs got. “What about the hyenas?” asked the cheetah. “ The hyena representative has declined to attend,” said the lion. The three cats knew that the hyenas generally took whatever they could steal and there was no point in agreeing anything with them anyway, but courtesy required them to allocate something. “Let’s give them one twelfth of the total area,” suggested the leopard. Everyone agreed. They then calculated the four shares, which between them covered the entire area, and the lion declared the meeting closed. What was the lion’s share? ACROSS 1 The Roman name for Winchester (5,8) 8 The vocal apparatus of the larynx (7) 12 Neolithic stone circle on Mainland in Orkney (4,2,7) 13 Such bowling was legalised in cricket in 1864 (7) 14 Hooves (7) 15 Palindromic village with a summertime ferry connection to Kylerhea on Skye (7) 16 This pie’s a poppet (5) 17 An avalanche (9) 18 A muscle surrounding an opening (11) 19 System by which authors receive a royalty payment each time their books are borrowed from a library (6,7,5) 23 “He loves me, he loves me not” flower (2-3,5) 24 Agreed standards for polite online behaviour (10) 28 Madame Goldschmidt’s nickname (7,11) 33 Extremely old-fashioned or primitive (11) 34 Asian peninsula which includes Burma, Cambodia and Laos (4-5) 36 French département in Picardy, capital Laon (5) 37 Heavy knitted blankets or shawls (7) 38 Hi-hat stand, tom-toms and snare, eg (4,3) 39 Northumbrian castle which featured as Hogwarts in the Harry Potter films (7) 40 The setting for Coot Club (7,6) 41 Paying attention (7) 42 Attire for graduation day (8,5) DOWN 1 Commas in Colmar (8) 2 Rare pottery from a village on the River Taff (8) 3 Three-act prose play by Ibsen which is critical of 19th century marriage norms (1,5,5) 4 An inlaid ornament (7) 5 US creator of the Star Wars and Indiana Jones film franchises (6,5) 6 Old Scottish tax levied for the expenses of catching and prosecuting criminals (5,5) 7 Last Year’s location of Alain Resnais’ 1961 film (9) 8 MP for Liverpool whose 119 days as prime minister during 1827 is the shortest ever (6,7) 9 Pertaining to a fish’s gill- cover (9) 10 An entrance beneath St Thomas’s Tower; a novel by Dennis Wheatley (8,5) 11 Turned head over heels (12) 20 The grub of the crane fly (13) 21 13th century epic about fierce Scandinavian heroes descended from Odin’s great-grandson (8,4) 22 The Houses of Bishops, Clergy and Laity in the Church of England (7,5) 25 Optical instrument for projecting images of transparent or opaque objects (11) 26 Not varnished (11) 27 Genus of ornamental plants of the spurge family (10) 29 Eventually (2,3,4) 30 Daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra (9) 31 Southport’s Royal golf course (8) 32 Capital of the ancient Hittite empire (8) 35 An itinerant tinker (7; A not E) Last month’s solutions Solutions across: 1 Write-off 6 Red admiral 13 Liane 14 Nandu 15 Saxifrage 16 Impala 17 Land on one’s feet 19 Awareness 20 Beaufort Sea 21 Despair 22 Azulejo 23 Aisne 24 Oedipus Rex 25 Jack Warner 30 Incus 33 Nigella 35 Roadmap 36 Waldgravine 37 Alexandra 38 Tristram Shandy 39 Stop it! 41 Rhodesian 42 Kaval 43 Sturm 44 Tenderfoot 45 Stansted Solutions down: 2 Reappraised 3 The Blue Lamp 4 Orne 5 Fingal’s Cave 6 Roundabout 7 Disengage 8 Dixon of Dock Green 9 Infusoria 10 Analepsis 11 Elsie and Doris Waters 12 Central European Time 18 Der Rosenkavalier 26 Adam-and-Eves 27 Anabaptists 28 Noms-de-plume 29 Bluejacket 31 Calcicole 32 Sightread 34 Glissando 40 Olla Last month’s solution There are 8 flies and 12 spiders. Suppose there are f flies and s spiders. Then 6f+8s = 144, and 6s+8(f+1) = 144. Solve these equations for f and s by your favourite method. One way is to subtract the second equation from the first, to get 6(f-s)+8(s-f) = 8, that is, 2(s-f) = 8 so s-f = 4. Now s = f+4 so 144 = 6f+8s = 6f+8(f+4) = 14f+32. Therefore 14f = 112, and f = 8. Then s = f+4 = 12. How to enter The generalist prize One winner receives a copy of the Penguin Underground Lines boxset (Penguin, £60), a set of 12 books, each inspired by a tube line, to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the London Underground. Writers include John Lanchester, Camilla Batmanghelidjh and Danny Dorling. Enigmas & puzzles prize The winner receives a copy of Invisible in the Storm by Ian Roulstone and John Norbury (Princeton University Press, £24.95), which recounts the history, personalities and ideas behind the use of mathematics in weather forecasting from the turn of the 20th century until the present day. Rules Send your solution to [email protected] or Crossword/Enigmas, Prospect, 2 Bloomsbury Place, London, WC1A 2QA. Include your email and postal address. All entries must be received by 12th April. Winners will be announced in our May issue. Last month’s winners The generalist: Alan Day, Bath Enigmas & puzzles: Rob Hull, London Download a PDF of this page at www.prospect-magazine.co.uk Latest Titles from Zed Books Pb ISBN 9781780324500 £8.99 www.zedbooks.co.uk/paperback/ the-global-minotaur Pb ISBN 9781780321684 £14.99 www.zedbooks.co.uk/paperback/ societies-beyond-oil Pb ISBN 9781780324937 £14.99 www.zedbooks.co.uk/ paperback/girl-trouble Pb ISBN 9781780324456 £12.99 www.zedbooks.co.uk/paperback/ americas-deadliest-export Zed Books Pb ISBN 9781780322728 £12.99 www.zedbooks.co.uk/ paperback/gross-domestic-problem 7 Cynthia Street, London N1 9JF Tel: 020 7837 4014 [email protected] www.zedbooks.co.uk 86 prospect april 2013 Our pick of the best public talks and events in April Monday 8th When worlds collide: physics in the movies Jordi José, academic University of York, Ron Cooke Hub Auditorium, Heslington, 7pm, free, 01904 322 622, www. york.ac.uk Tuesday 9th Art and industrialists in late imperial Russia Beryl Williams, academic University of Sussex, BSMS Teaching Building, Falmer, 6.30pm, free, 01273 606 755, www.sussex.ac.uk The great plagues: lessons from the past, warnings for the future Richard Evans, academic Museum of London, London Wall, 6pm, free, 020 7831 0575, www. gresham.ac.uk Death and destruction in the red beds of Russia: the largest mass extinction of all time Mike Benton, academic Univesrity of Cardiff, Main Building, Park Place, 6.30pm, free, 029 208 74830, www.cardiff. ac.uk Thursday 11th Greece on the eve of the 19th century: between myth and reality Fani-Maria Tsigakou, curator at the Benaki Museum, Athens British Museum, Great Russell St, WC1, 1.15pm, free, 020 7323 8181, www.britishmuseum.org Friday 12th Fringe benefits: Olympia’s shawl and French fashion Therese Dolan, academic Royal Academy of Arts, Piccadilly, W1, 6.30pm, £12, 020 7300 8000, www.royalacademy.org.uk Monday 15th The art of association: the formation of egalitarian social capital Danielle Allen, academic British Library, Euston Rd, NW1, 6.30pm, £7.50, 0843 208 1144, www.bl.uk The Tokaido Road: four centuries of travel from Tokyo to Kyoto Nigel Caple, artist Swedenborg Society, Bloomsbury Way, WC1, 6.45pm, free, 020 7828 6330, www.japansociety.org. uk Wednesday 17th Developing new solar cells— cheaper, or more efficient? Neil Greenham, academic Royal Society, Carlton House Terrace, SW1, 6.30pm, free, 020 7451 2500, www.royalsociety.org Thursday 18th Conflict resolution Ian Ritchie, director of the City of London Festival; Simon Keyes, director of St Ethelburga’s Centre for Reconciliation and Peace; Tim Connell, academic Barnard’s Inn Hall, EC1, 2pm, free, 020 7831 0575, www. gresham.ac.uk Saturday 20th Welcome to Plato’s cave Rick Lewis, editor of Philosophy Now Bishopsgate Institute, Bishopsgate, EC2, 2.30pm, free, 020 7387 4130, www.royalinstitutephilosophy.org Wednesday 24th Gridlock: why global cooperation is failing David Held, academic University of Durham, Durham Castle, 8pm, free, 0191 334 2000, www.dur.ac.uk Tuesday 23rd Shakespeare’s inhumanity Kiernan Ryan, academic University of Hull, Staff House, Hull Campus, 6pm, free, 01482 465 315, www.hull.ac.uk Vox populi: the referenda experience in Scottish local government since 1868 Irene Maver, academic University of Glasgow, Boyd Orr Building, University Avenue, 5.30pm, free, 0141 330 2000, www.gla.ac.uk International trade and the environment: the pollution haven hypothesis Brian Copeland, academic University of Nottingham, University Park, 4pm, free, 0115 951 5469, www.nottingham.ac.uk Sebastian Faulks CBE: A Possible Life Sebastian Faulks, author Stratford-upon-Avon Literary Festival, Shakespeare Centre, Henley St, 7.30pm, £12, 01789 207 100, www. stratfordliteraryfestival.co.uk Thursday 25th A promise to Malala—children’s literature and Education for All Sarah Brown, charity campaigner and wife of former prime minister Gordon Brown Newcastle University, Herschel Building, King’s Rd, 5.30pm, free, 0191 222 6942, www.ncl.ac.uk Friday 19th Iron from the sky: the potential influence of meteorites on ancient Egyptian culture Diane Johnson, project officer at the Centre for Earth, Planetary, Space & Astronomical Research Royal Society, Carlton House Terrace, SW1, 1pm, free, 020 7451 2500, www.royalsociety.org Explore it online and add your own To see a wider list of events and add details of your own, go to www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/listings Listings are free. We’ll print our pick of the best in the magazine each month and highlight recommended events online. Friday 26th The popular reception of relativity in Britain Katy Price, academic Royal Society, Carlton House Terrace, SW1, 1pm, free, 020 7451 2500, www.royalsociety.org Monday 29th Volcanology applied to emergencies Stephen Sparks, academic University of Cambridge, Churchill College, Storey’s Way, 7pm, free, 01223 337 733, www. cam.ac.uk Tuesday 30th The US deficit habit: what are its causes and what lessons does history offer for breaking it? Iwan Morgan, academic University College London, Wilkins Building, Gower St, WC1, 6.30pm, free, 020 7679 2000 Time to debunk reform? Conceptualising change in the medieval church, 900-1200 Julia Barrow, academic University of Leeds, Parkinson Building, Woodhouse Lane, 5.30pm, free, 0113 343 3614, www. leeds.ac.uk To attend events Always confirm details in advance and reserve a place if necessary. 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EUROPE, CENTRAL ASIA From libraries to single items Dating.6x1.indd 1 TRAVEL, HISTORY, POLITICS, CULTURE & LANGUAGE 31/1/12 12:31:41 Marijana Dworski Books, Presteigne, Powys,LD8 2LA, U.K. Tel: (+44) 01544 267300 [email protected] K www.dworskibooks.com Classifieds-April.indd 35 Quote www.flymarketing.co.uk ‘PRO20’ [email protected] | 0207 243 1740 14/03/2013 15:59 88 prospect april 2013 The way we were Abdications Extracts from memoirs and diaries, chosen by Ian Irvine Bulstrode Whitelocke, Oliver sidered death preferable to that step; Cromwell’s ambassador to Swebut still he took it... den, sends home an account of “He insisted especially on the the abdication by Queen Chrisnecessity of proclaiming his son tina on 5th June 1654: Emperor, not so much for the advan“About nine o’clock this morning tage of the child as with a view to the Queen, being attired in her concentrate all the power of sentiroyal apparel and robes of purments and affections. Unfortunately, ple velvet, with her crown upon nobody would listen to him.” her head, and attended by all her officers and servants, came into Revolution breaks out in Berlin the room prepared for that occaon 9th November 1918; Kaiser Wilsion, where was set a table with a helm II abdicates. His first cousin, rich carpet, and five great cushKing George V, writes in his diary: ions laid upon it. Most of the gran“We got the news that the German dees and officers were present. Emperor had abdicated, also the Upon one of the cushions was laid Crown Prince. ‘How are the mighty the sword of state; upon the secfallen.’ He has been Emperor just ond cushion was laid the scepover 30 years, he did great things tre; upon the third cushion was for his country, but his ambition was laid the ball; and upon the fourth so great that he wished to dominate cushion were laid the keys. The the world and created his military Queen being come into the room, machine for that object. No one man after a little pause made a short can dominate the world, it has been speech to the company, to this tried before, and now he has utterly effect: ‘My Lords and Gentlemen, ruined his country and himself and I You have before this time been look upon him as the greatest crimacquainted with my resolution to inal known for having plunged the resign the crown and government world into this ghastly war with all of this kingdom into the hands of its misery.” my most dear cousin the Prince Greta Garbo as Queen Christina of Sweden, surrounded by [Charles Gustavus]...’ On the abdication of King Edward her court, in Rouben Mamoulian’s 1933 film Queen Christina Having thus spoken, the VIII, 10th December 1936, Chips Queen desired that some of them Channon, the Conservative MP, the least doubt in my mind that the only would take the crown from off her head, but writes in his diary: thing he could do was to descend once more none would do it; she then called to Grave “The dreadful day dawned coldly, and my from the throne. I communicated to him Tott and the Baron Steinberg, expressly limbs were numb and chilled. The telephone all the particulars I had just received, and I commanding them to do it, but they refused, began early, and I talked to the Duchess of did not hesitate to advise him to follow the till again earnestly commanded by her; they Kent who told me that all was over... At 2pm only course worthy of him. He listened to then took the crown from off her Majesty’s Honor [his wife] and I left for parliament as me with a sombre air, and though he was in head, and laid it down upon the fifth cushI had secured her a ticket. The House was some measure master of himself, the agitaion on the table. After that was done, some full, for there has not been an abdication tion of his mind and the sense of his posiothers, by her command, took off the royal since 1399, 537 years ago [of Richard II]. I tion betrayed themselves in his face and in robes with which she was clothed and laid thought everyone subdued but surprisingly all his motions. ‘I know,’ said I, ‘that your them down upon the table. Then the Queen, unmoved, and Lady Astor actually seemed Majesty may still keep the sword drawn, but having thus divested herself of these ensigns to enjoy herself, jumping about in her frivowith whom, and against whom? Defeat has of royalty and resigned her crown, being now lous way. Baldwin [the prime minister] was chilled the courage of every one; the army is in her private habit, made courtesy to the greeted with cheers, and sat down on the still in the greatest confusion. Nothing is to Prince and to the rest of the company, and front bench gravely. At last he went to the be expected from Paris, and the coup d’etat retired into her own chamber.” bar, bowed twice, ‘A message from the King’ of the 18th Brumaire cannot be renewed.’ The Queen left Sweden, converting to and he presented a paper to the Speaker ‘That thought,’ he replied, stopping, ‘is far Roman Catholicism the following year and who proceeded to read it out. At the words from my mind. I will hear nothing more eventually settling in Rome. ‘renounce the throne’ his voice broke, and about myself. But poor France!’ At that there were stifled sobs in the House. It was moment Savary and Caulaincourt entered, After the defeat of Waterloo, Napoleon a short document, more moving by impliand having drawn a faithful picture of the abdicates (for the second time) on 22nd cation than by phrase, to the effect that the exasperation of the deputies, they persuaded June 1815. Count Lavallette, his private King could no longer remain on the Throne. him to assent to abdication. Some words he secretary, recalls in his memoirs: The Speaker was tearful, but very few othuttered proved to us that he would have con“I came to [the Emperor] without having ers were.” &RXOGQ·WJHWLQWR+XUWZRRG /HIWLWWRRODWHSRRUODPE :KDWDVKDPH+XUWZRRGZDVWKH6L[WK)RUPRIKHUGUHDPV WKHEHVWLQWKHZRUOGIRUWKH3HUIRUPLQJDQG&UHDWLYHDUWVDQGEULOOLDQW DFDGHPLFDOO\WRR+RZVKHORQJHGWREHSDUWRIWKDWFRV\LQVSLULQJ FRPPXQLW\EXWDODVWRRODWHWRRODWH 6RGRQ·WGHOD\²FRQWDFWPHQRZ²RUIRUWKHUHVWRI\RXUOLIH <,;.*6 &RVPR-DFNVRQ7(LQIR#KXUWZRRGQHW ZZZKXUWZRRGKRXVHFRP ,%&LQGG We explore further. Aberdeen Investment Trusts ISA and Share Plan At Aberdeen, we believe there’s no substitute for getting to know your investments face-to-face. That’s why we make it our goal to visit companies – wherever they are – before we ever invest in their shares and again when we hold them. With 17 investment companies investing around the world – that’s an awfully big commitment. But it’s just one of the ways we aim to find the best investment opportunities on your behalf. Please remember, the value of shares and the income from them can go down as well as up and you may get back less than the amount invested. No recommendation is made, positive or otherwise, regarding the ISA and Share Plan. The value of tax benefits depends on individual circumstances and the favourable tax treatment for ISAs may not be maintained. If you have any doubts about the suitability of any investment for your needs, please consult an independent financial adviser. Request a brochure: 0500 00 40 00 www.invtrusts.co.uk Issued by Aberdeen Asset Managers Limited, 10 Queen’s Terrace, Aberdeen AB10 1YG, which is authorised and regulated by the Financial Services Authority in the UK. Telephone calls may be recorded. www.aberdeen-asset.co.uk 0313 Prospect G PM 06.indd 1 Please quote G PM 06 07/03/2013 11:53