Sunday, December 26, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The Brrr! Society
Ivor Novello felt the chill in Cardiff Bay last week. The next day I left the house at 7.15am to catch a flight to Belfast. But snow and ice had ground Northern Ireland to a halt. So it was up to Glasgow by plane and then a chilly but festive train ride to Stranraer for a late-night ferry. Made it to Coleraine at 6.25am.
As the view from the bathroom window suggests, it is uncommonly cold at the moment.
Portstewart Strand become a strange, steaming phenomenon, with the seawater substantially warmer than the freezing air.
If you like big icicles, this is the place to come.
The dogs are having a splendid time. Although I'm becoming more convinced that Lyra, in the foreground, is actually the ruler of a distant galaxy who has been transported into the body of a charmily neurotic Lurcher crossbreed.
It is a very beautiful world and the absence of wind is infinitely preferable to the lashing, moist, grey wind which commonly blasts the north coast.
We have proper powdery snow. Not something I ever remember encountering in the province.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Richard Jack is James Bond
Most of my favourite moments during the Aberdeen years involved the great Richard Jack in some form. He is now starring as a "rebel spy" in this terrific music video by a very professional band ironically called The Amateurs. I think it constitutes the best Bond audition tape every shot. Rico, you're on your way to Shepperton...
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Talking About Migration
There are many things that politicians do not want to discuss, and it is entirely appropriate if a Government minister refuses to confirm if he or she sports a tattoo of Captain Morgan sacking Panama dating back to a gap-year adventure in 1969.
But there are other subjects which are only picked up by crusading backbenchers or ex-ministers who stand little chance of returning to power.
Avuncular former defence minister Bob Ainsworth made headlines with his call for the legalisation of drugs, which is not something a fresh-faced MP who is consumed with sulphuric ambition would do in a hurry.
But a politician who wants to fight the winter chill by picking up a hot potato could look at a United Nations convention that was introduced 20 years ago today but which has been neither signed nor ratified by any western country.
No mainstream party is likely to put out a pre-election pledge card committing a future Government to ratifying the International Convention on the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant Workers and Members of their Families.
But, regardless of the merits of the document, a politician who actually wants to ensure that the UK is a healthier and more prosperous society in the future would do well to do some serious thinking over Christmas about the revolution in how and where people work.
Around 190 million people, or 3% of the world’s population, are migrant workers. These include bright graduates who are sitting at desks in Wall St and the cleaners who are at work in the corridors.
The free-movement of capital has been responsible for explosions of economic opportunity and chaos on every continent in recent decades. The absence of commons sense regulation nearly decimated the world’s financial system in 2008.
Our so-called global community is even less prepared to meet the mounting challenge of the movement of labour. One of the most basic consequences of climate change is that large numbers of people are likely to find their homelands are no longer habitable.
If the only people who talk about immigration are those fixated by the idea of a mono-cultural nation state the debate will be shaped by pessimism and fear and the potential for serious social strife will grow by the year.
But population movements have defined human history and the idea that we have existed in static communities for centuries is balderdash. Furthermore, with an ageing population and a shortage of skilled workers an injection of talent could reinvigorate Britain.
But when no European countries wants to touch a convention that tries to protect basic human rights for migrant workers the chances of a mature conversation seem slim.
A Saturday column
But there are other subjects which are only picked up by crusading backbenchers or ex-ministers who stand little chance of returning to power.
Avuncular former defence minister Bob Ainsworth made headlines with his call for the legalisation of drugs, which is not something a fresh-faced MP who is consumed with sulphuric ambition would do in a hurry.
But a politician who wants to fight the winter chill by picking up a hot potato could look at a United Nations convention that was introduced 20 years ago today but which has been neither signed nor ratified by any western country.
No mainstream party is likely to put out a pre-election pledge card committing a future Government to ratifying the International Convention on the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant Workers and Members of their Families.
But, regardless of the merits of the document, a politician who actually wants to ensure that the UK is a healthier and more prosperous society in the future would do well to do some serious thinking over Christmas about the revolution in how and where people work.
Around 190 million people, or 3% of the world’s population, are migrant workers. These include bright graduates who are sitting at desks in Wall St and the cleaners who are at work in the corridors.
The free-movement of capital has been responsible for explosions of economic opportunity and chaos on every continent in recent decades. The absence of commons sense regulation nearly decimated the world’s financial system in 2008.
Our so-called global community is even less prepared to meet the mounting challenge of the movement of labour. One of the most basic consequences of climate change is that large numbers of people are likely to find their homelands are no longer habitable.
If the only people who talk about immigration are those fixated by the idea of a mono-cultural nation state the debate will be shaped by pessimism and fear and the potential for serious social strife will grow by the year.
But population movements have defined human history and the idea that we have existed in static communities for centuries is balderdash. Furthermore, with an ageing population and a shortage of skilled workers an injection of talent could reinvigorate Britain.
But when no European countries wants to touch a convention that tries to protect basic human rights for migrant workers the chances of a mature conversation seem slim.
A Saturday column
Saturday, December 11, 2010
The Power of an Empty Chair
Woody Allen said 80% of success is turning up, but the power of an empty chair was demonstrated yesterday when Chinese human rights activist Liu Xiaobo was unable to collect the Nobel Peace Prize.
If he had stood before an applauding Oslo audience he would have won a few minutes of fame in international news schedules and a soundbite might have reached an audience of millions.
But instead of the world seeing yet another talking head it has been given an image it will not forget for a long time. In a moment of poignant political theatre, the Nobel diploma was placed on the chair where the Tiananmen Square activist would have sat.
This will have grabbed the attention of viewers who would not have sat up and listened to a human rights activist lobbying for democratic reform. In seeking to deny Liu Xiaobo airtime, the Chinese authorities have helped make him a household name.
The imaginative power of an empty chair cannot be underestimated. It suggests that people are waiting for someone to arrive, and that one day he or she may take their rightful place.
In Jewish tradition, a chair is designated for the prophet Elijah at circumcision ceremonies, and a cup is poured for him at each Passover.
This does more than imply the presence of a prophet, it is an expression of confident hope that a new righteous age of peace and justice will one day arrive.
Something similar happened when the chairman of the Norwegian Nobel committee, Thorbjorn Jagland, next to the empty chair.
There was the suggestion that just as activists who waited for Nelson Mandela to one day leave his South African prison and had the joy of welcoming him to a new life of freedom, so Liu Xiaobo would eventually collect his award in person.
If there is not a happy ending to this particular story the image millions saw yesterday will become only more famous.
The tragedy of World War I was expressed powerfully at the Birkenhead Eisteddfod of 1917 when the chair of Hedd Wyn, a poet slain at Passchendaele, was draped in black.
It paralleled the sorrow of families across Wales who also looked at the empty chairs of fathers, brothers and sons.
There were other empty chairs at yesterday’s Oslo gathering. Sixteen ambassadors, including the representatives of Russia, Saudi Arabia, Serbia, Cuba, Iraq, Iran and Pakistan, did not attend.
These countries do not want to antagonise a great power whose leaders have chosen to prioritise economic development over political reform. Their policies have lifted millions out of desperate poverty, but it will be a real sign of China’s strength when it allows peaceful dissidents a passport and a voice.
A Saturday column
If he had stood before an applauding Oslo audience he would have won a few minutes of fame in international news schedules and a soundbite might have reached an audience of millions.
But instead of the world seeing yet another talking head it has been given an image it will not forget for a long time. In a moment of poignant political theatre, the Nobel diploma was placed on the chair where the Tiananmen Square activist would have sat.
This will have grabbed the attention of viewers who would not have sat up and listened to a human rights activist lobbying for democratic reform. In seeking to deny Liu Xiaobo airtime, the Chinese authorities have helped make him a household name.
The imaginative power of an empty chair cannot be underestimated. It suggests that people are waiting for someone to arrive, and that one day he or she may take their rightful place.
In Jewish tradition, a chair is designated for the prophet Elijah at circumcision ceremonies, and a cup is poured for him at each Passover.
This does more than imply the presence of a prophet, it is an expression of confident hope that a new righteous age of peace and justice will one day arrive.
Something similar happened when the chairman of the Norwegian Nobel committee, Thorbjorn Jagland, next to the empty chair.
There was the suggestion that just as activists who waited for Nelson Mandela to one day leave his South African prison and had the joy of welcoming him to a new life of freedom, so Liu Xiaobo would eventually collect his award in person.
If there is not a happy ending to this particular story the image millions saw yesterday will become only more famous.
The tragedy of World War I was expressed powerfully at the Birkenhead Eisteddfod of 1917 when the chair of Hedd Wyn, a poet slain at Passchendaele, was draped in black.
It paralleled the sorrow of families across Wales who also looked at the empty chairs of fathers, brothers and sons.
There were other empty chairs at yesterday’s Oslo gathering. Sixteen ambassadors, including the representatives of Russia, Saudi Arabia, Serbia, Cuba, Iraq, Iran and Pakistan, did not attend.
These countries do not want to antagonise a great power whose leaders have chosen to prioritise economic development over political reform. Their policies have lifted millions out of desperate poverty, but it will be a real sign of China’s strength when it allows peaceful dissidents a passport and a voice.
A Saturday column
Monday, December 06, 2010
A Very Public Life
When it was clear the North Vietnamese forces were about to take Saigon in April 1975, US Marines were ordered to start shredding documents in the American embassy.
Diplomats whose guts churned when WikiLeaks began posting 250,000 cables online must long for the days when a memo could be destroyed by passing it into a machine which would chop it up.
Just as it took weeks to find many of the most glaring outrages lurking among the receipts of MPs during the Westminster expenses scandal, the gravest revelations contained in the embassy cables may take some time to crawl to the surface.
But what is immediately clear is how much of the classified communications consists of, well, chatter.
The musings of diplomats about the instability of public figures and geopolitical perils are often about as revelatory as a Twitter message.
The political establishment has not been shaken by the revelation that Arab states are worried about Iran. Rather, it’s the violation of privacy which has triggered the cries of treason.
And while anyone with an interest in the world beyond this country’s borders will enjoy having a lunchtime snoop through the WikiLeaks archives, a shiver might run down the spine of all of us who dabble on a social network.
Diplomats work in a world where documents are classified with words like “secret” and there are stark, grave penalties for people who violate the code of discretion.
However, the communications of the globe’s greatest military power have been freely distributed with the click of a button.
If secret messages can be posted online by some internet adventurers, what chance is there that the photographs and attempts at witty irony that so many of us have posted for friends online will not end up broadcast to everyone?
Millions of us now use e-mail systems where the messages are stored on a distant server in a country of which we know nothing, and yet we tell ourselves that our secrets are safe.
It would be a scandal of the century if billions of messages were duplicated and our delusions of privacy where shattered. In an age of so-called cyber-warfare, what better way to humiliate a nation than to reveal everything we thought was safely behind digital lock and key?
Corporate gatekeepers will assure us that no such breach of security would be possible because steps have been taken. But when Hillary Clinton’s memos can be read on a computer screen in Abergwyngregyn, the day we wave goodbye to the sweet idea of a private life may not be far away.
A Saturday column
Diplomats whose guts churned when WikiLeaks began posting 250,000 cables online must long for the days when a memo could be destroyed by passing it into a machine which would chop it up.
Just as it took weeks to find many of the most glaring outrages lurking among the receipts of MPs during the Westminster expenses scandal, the gravest revelations contained in the embassy cables may take some time to crawl to the surface.
But what is immediately clear is how much of the classified communications consists of, well, chatter.
The musings of diplomats about the instability of public figures and geopolitical perils are often about as revelatory as a Twitter message.
The political establishment has not been shaken by the revelation that Arab states are worried about Iran. Rather, it’s the violation of privacy which has triggered the cries of treason.
And while anyone with an interest in the world beyond this country’s borders will enjoy having a lunchtime snoop through the WikiLeaks archives, a shiver might run down the spine of all of us who dabble on a social network.
Diplomats work in a world where documents are classified with words like “secret” and there are stark, grave penalties for people who violate the code of discretion.
However, the communications of the globe’s greatest military power have been freely distributed with the click of a button.
If secret messages can be posted online by some internet adventurers, what chance is there that the photographs and attempts at witty irony that so many of us have posted for friends online will not end up broadcast to everyone?
Millions of us now use e-mail systems where the messages are stored on a distant server in a country of which we know nothing, and yet we tell ourselves that our secrets are safe.
It would be a scandal of the century if billions of messages were duplicated and our delusions of privacy where shattered. In an age of so-called cyber-warfare, what better way to humiliate a nation than to reveal everything we thought was safely behind digital lock and key?
Corporate gatekeepers will assure us that no such breach of security would be possible because steps have been taken. But when Hillary Clinton’s memos can be read on a computer screen in Abergwyngregyn, the day we wave goodbye to the sweet idea of a private life may not be far away.
A Saturday column
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