Something to keep you awake at night

Ever since Obama won the election I’ve had an uneasy feeling that Sarah Palin is being underestimated by the US media and political establishments. Frank Rich has come to the same conclusion. “Logic”, he writes,

doesn’t apply to Palin. What might bring down other politicians only seems to make her stronger: the malapropisms and gaffes, the cut-and-run half-term governorship, family scandals, shameless lying and rapacious self-merchandising. In an angry time when America’s experts and elites all seem to have failed, her amateurism and liabilities are badges of honor. She has turned fallibility into a formula for success.

Republican leaders who want to stop her, and they are legion, are utterly baffled about how to do so. Democrats, who gloat that she’s the Republicans’ problem, may be humoring themselves. When Palin told Barbara Walters last week that she believed she could beat Barack Obama in 2012, it wasn’t an idle boast. Should Michael Bloomberg decide to spend billions on a quixotic run as a third-party spoiler, all bets on Obama are off…

The boys from the IMF

The only Irish novelist with the range to encompass what has happened to Ireland in my lifetime is Colm Toibin, and so I live in hope that one day we will get a blockbuster novel from him about the Republic that wasn’t. In the meantime, his reflections on the current crisis are interesting. He begins by revealing that he got to know some of the IMF guys who came to sort our Argentina after its economic collapse, and in the process came to understand how they think.

I remembered my American friends this week as news came that a delegation from the EU and the IMF were to arrive in Dublin on Thursday. I think I have an idea how dedicated and serious-minded these fellows would be, especially on weekdays, and how little interest they might have in Irish history, Irish pride, Irish sovereignty or even Irish doublespeak. They like to get the job done and then get home.

On the night before these figure-crunchers arrived in the city, I watched a discussion programme on Irish television in which commentators, people younger than me, invoked the dead heroes who had fought for an independent Ireland, naming some of them, including patriots from the 18th century, and wondering how they would feel now were they to find out about the shame we Irish felt.

We had fought so hard for our freedom, they said, and now, with the arrival in Merrion Street, where the government is housed, of besuited stone-faced economists with German and Scandinavian names and number-crunching knuckles, we had betrayed our dead. Patrick Pearse eat your heart out, the Germans have arrived.

I hadn’t known that Toibin comes from a Republican background. His grandfather fought in the 1916 rebellion and was imprisoned afterwards. “I was brought up”, he recalls, “in the proud memory of his bravery. My uncle and my father worked all their lives for the Fianna Fáil party which has run Ireland most of the time since 1932 and which is in power now. I have never ceased to believe in their patriotism and idealism”.

But he puts his finger on what has always been wrong with our little Statelet:

The problem is not merely that there is no blueprint in Ireland now, no agenda, for how this might be done. The problem is also that it wasn’t there before the Celtic Tiger either, nor during its heady reign. In areas which really matter, such as health and education, Ireland has, since independence, been deeply divided.

There are two health systems here, for example. One is for middle-class people who pay health insurance and the other for those who can’t afford to pay. There are short waiting lists for one, and long waiting lists for the other. Often, both see the same doctors, who treat the first group in private hospitals, or private rooms in public hospitals, and the second group in public hospitals.

Everyone here knows that the difference can be a matter of life and death. Some of the doctors make a fortune. There has been no serious effort to reform this, but many efforts instead to copper-fasten it. This is one example of what sovereignty has done to us.

As for Irish “shame” about having to be rescued by “the Germans”, well, that’s also a bit rich coming from a country that has so manifestly proved unable to govern itself.

The more I found out about contemporary Germany, for example, and the more I travelled there, the more I came to admire it and the more I came to hope that some of its best qualities could come to influence and affect Ireland.

Thus when the Irish Times on Thursday mentioned “the German chancellor” I did not automatically feel that this person was in some way a malignant force in the world. Instead, I saw someone rational and prudent, sensible and deeply intelligent.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this in the last week. In the late 1970s I spent a year working in the Netherlands and it changed my life, because it gave me an insight into what a well-governed society could be like. Holland was devastated after the war, with its population starving and totally dependent on foreign aid. And yet out of those ruins the Dutch built a prosperous, liberal, humane democracy. So did the Germans, labouring under an even bigger psychic burden. What these societies did demonstrates what can be done with political will and intelligent outside assistance. That’s what Ireland needs to do now. And if the IMF and EU boys can get that process started, then more power to their elbows.

Some people can’t handle the truth anymore. (Could they ever?)

Thoughtful piece in the Economist. It starts from the revelation by a new Pew Research poll which finds that 53% of Republicans say there is no solid evidence the earth is warming. Among Tea Party Republicans, 70% say there is no evidence. Pew goes on to point out that “Disbelief in global warming in the GOP is a recent occurrence. Just a few years ago, in 2007, a 62%-majority of Republicans said there is solid evidence of global warming, while less than a third (31%) said there is no solid evidence. Currently, just 38% of Republicans say there is solid evidence the earth is warming, and only 16% say that warming is caused by human activity.” The article goes on:

It’s one thing to hold the position that rising global temperatures are due to natural variation, not human activity. I consider that position wrong and dangerous, but it’s a dispute over the analysis. But it is simply a fact that the planet is getting warmer. That many people who previously knew this have come to un-know it indicates that people are busy at work promoting ignorance.

Reminds me of Daniel Moynihan’s wonderful principle: everyone is entitled to his own views, but not to his own facts.

The wreck of the Republic

The Economist has a wickedly funny front cover this week. It takes Gericault’s famous picture, The Raft of the Medusa, and Photoshops it to show the wretches on the raft holding Irish and other European flags, and adds, top-left, an RAF rescue helicopter winching in a particularly stolid-looking Angela Merkel to ‘help’.

The imagery becomes even more hilarious when you know the history of the original.

The painting depicts the aftermath of the wreck of the French naval frigate Méduse, which ran aground off the coast of today’s Mauritania on July 5, 1816. According to Wikipedia, at least 147 people

were set adrift on a hurriedly constructed raft; all but 15 died in the 13 days before their rescue, and those who survived endured starvation, dehydration, cannibalism and madness. The event became an international scandal, in part because its cause was widely attributed to the incompetence of the French captain acting under the authority of the recently restored French monarchy.

The references to cannibalism and incompetence are particularly relevant to Fianna Fail, hitherto known as “the political wing of the Irish construction industry”.

LATER: Lorcan Dempsey pointed me at John Banville’s essay in the New York Times:

It is the figures, mainly, that cow us into silence. It is estimated that the banking debt of this nation, which has a population of only 4.6 million, may be substantially more than 100 billion euros. That is 100,000 millions and rising. When we were at school it amused our science teachers to dazzle us with astronomical statistics — so many myriads of light years, so many zillions of stars — but the numbers that we are being forced to count on our too-few fingers now have nothing to do with the fanciful dimensions of outer space. They represent precisely the breadth and depth of the financial hole into which we have toppled headlong.

In the months after September 2008, when the Irish government, after a night-long crisis meeting, was forced to give a guarantee of some 400 billion euros — money we had no hope of ever having — to save the Irish banks from collapse, we used to say that it would fall to our children to pay for our financial folly. Now we know that it will be our children and our children’s children and our children’s children’s children, unto the nth generation, who will bear the burden of our debts, including the “substantial loan” from international lenders that officials now acknowledge is necessary.

There used to be a nice acronym that neatly expressed how the Irish people conceive of themselves: MOPE, that is, Most Oppressed People Ever. For a decade or so, when the Tiger was at its fiercest, we threw off the mantle of oppression, as once we had thrown off what used to be called “the yoke of British rule.” On Wednesday, the British chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osborne, announced in Brussels that his government stood ready to help Ireland in its hour of need. Oh, bitter day.

All the same, life goes on, somehow. We are learning a new resilience. Humbled as we are, we might even begin to learn social responsibility, a quality in which we have been singularly lacking up to now. Who knows, we may at last recognize the irreplaceable value of public and private honesty. But let us not light the firecrackers just yet.

The ‘Ghost Estates’ myth

One of the most depressing aspects of big news stories is the herd-like way in which mainstream media construct a narrative and then select only the facts that fit that narrative. Part of the narrative of the Irish economic collapse is the factoid that there are 300,000 unfinished or unoccupied houses in the Irish Republic at present. So it’s refreshing to find this careful piece by Bill Nowlan which tries to take a more dispassionate view.

LAST April I wrote a paper on so-called “ghost estates” for the Irish Planning Institute’s annual conference. At that time, the topic was red hot but all the debate was based on media reports, academic number-crunching and hard luck stories – there were no hard facts.

In my paper I called for a detailed survey and analysis so that Government, financiers, academics and planners could separate facts from fiction and develop action policies.

That survey has now been completed by the Department of the Environment It has been a big job with Government inspectors visiting each of just 2,900 estates – but the output is good. It turns out that there was, and is a lot of misinformation about so-called ghost estates. The survey shows that whilst problems do exist with empty and incomplete developments, they are far fewer than media and other reports would have us believe.

The survey identified more than 2,800 housing developments where construction had started but had not been completed.

This translates into just 180,000 housing units for which planning permission exists. Construction had begun on more than 120,000 of these dwellings with 77,000 dwellings completed and occupied.

A further 23,000 homes are completed and vacant. Another 10,000 are part-completed, requiring final fit-out and connection to services. The remaining 10,000 dwellings are at earlier stages of construction, from preliminary site clearance up to wall plate level. The balance are the units which have planning permission but have not been started.

These figures have already been reported – so why am I revisiting the issue? Well I suppose facts make far less interesting reading than much of the speculation to which we were treated for the past 12 months with sensational TV programs and acres of newsprint about disastrous estates with more than 100,000 vacant houses – the implication being that they were so-called ghost estates.

In fact there are only 23,000 new houses built and unoccupied in what I will call new estate developments. This is just 2 per cent of the overall national stock of homes in the country. The number of part-built houses at 10,000 is insignificant, equating to about three months work in a normal property and construction environment.

The survey shows that much of the vacancy in such estates is in western counties and numbers for the greater Dublin area are so low it could be argued that there is a potential shortage of new houses in the area when the economy recovers.

The detail of the survey does not support the idea that there are large numbers of tumbleweed estates. A few do exist but these are mainly outside the areas of normal demand…

Was it for this?

That’s the headline over an extraordinary Editorial in today’s Irish Times as the paper contemplates the wreckage and humiliation that a corrupt and incompetent Fianna Fail administration has brought on my homeland.

IT MAY seem strange to some that The Irish Times would ask whether this is what the men of 1916 died for: a bailout from the German chancellor with a few shillings of sympathy from the British chancellor on the side. There is the shame of it all. Having obtained our political independence from Britain to be the masters of our own affairs, we have now surrendered our sovereignty to the European Commission, the European Central Bank, and the International Monetary Fund. Their representatives ride into Merrion Street today.

Fianna Fáil has sometimes served Ireland very well, sometimes very badly. Even in its worst times, however, it retained some respect for its underlying commitment that the Irish should control their own destinies. It lists among its primary aims the commitment “to maintain the status of Ireland as a sovereign State”. Its founder, Eamon de Valera, in his inaugural address to his new party in 1926, spoke of “the inalienability of national sovereignty” as being fundamental to its beliefs. The Republican Party’s ideals are in tatters now.

Irish history makes the loss of that sense of choice all the more shameful. The desire to be a sovereign people runs like a seam through all the struggles of the last 200 years. “Self-determination” is a phrase that echoes from the United Irishmen to the Belfast Agreement. It continues to have a genuine resonance for most Irish people today.

The true ignominy of our current situation is not that our sovereignty has been taken away from us, it is that we ourselves have squandered it. Let us not seek to assuage our sense of shame in the comforting illusion that powerful nations in Europe are conspiring to become our masters. We are, after all, no great prize for any would-be overlord now. No rational European would willingly take on the task of cleaning up the mess we have made. It is the incompetence of the governments we ourselves elected that has so deeply compromised our capacity to make our own decisions.

They did so, let us recall, from a period when Irish sovereignty had never been stronger. Our national debt was negligible. The mass emigration that had mocked our claims to be a people in control of our own destiny was reversed. A genuine act of national self-determination had occurred in 1998 when both parts of the island voted to accept the Belfast Agreement. The sense of failure and inferiority had been banished, we thought, for good.

To drag this State down from those heights and make it again subject to the decisions of others is an achievement that will not soon be forgiven. It must mark, surely, the ignominious end of a failed administration.

Well, yes. But the problem is that there is no knowing what kind of electoral result will follow from this catastrophe. With a bit of luck, Fianna Fail’s run as a serious political party has finally ended, just as — in the end — Italy’s Christian Democrats imploded. But what then? Most of the Irish political establishment is implicated in the disaster that was the Celtic Tiger. One option is that public fury will erupt at the next election in a Tea Party-type explosion of incoherent activism, and Ireland will wind up with an administration rather like that of the Netherlands, in which a party of enraged, contradictory, xenophobic weirdos hold the balance of power.

And then there is the sinister news that Gerry Adams, sensing an opportunity, has decided to resign his seat in the Northern Ireland Assembly to stand for the Dublin parliament.

LATER: In a discussion on RTE Radio this evening, the former Taoiseach, Garret Fitzgerald, made an ironic point — reminding listeners that the revolutionaries whose insurrection in 1916 eventually led to the founding of the Republic were also hoping for German aid!

The idea of a university: the BP version

If you’re an academic, a parent, a prospective university student in England or even — Godammit — a former Lib Dem voter, then Stefan Collini’s London Review of Books piece on Lord Browne’s attempt to re-engineer an entire higher education system is a must-read. He starts from an observation that many of us had already made — which was the curious way in which the entire subject of the report was portrayed in the media as being just about fees. Collini points out that, in a way, the fees issue is peripheral. What’s important is that the Report proposes

a far, far more fundamental change to the way universities are financed than is suggested by this concentration on income thresholds and repayment rates. Essentially, Browne is contending that we should no longer think of higher education as the provision of a public good, articulated through educational judgment and largely financed by public funds (in recent years supplemented by a relatively small fee element). Instead, we should think of it as a lightly regulated market in which consumer demand, in the form of student choice, is sovereign in determining what is offered by service providers (i.e. universities). The single most radical recommendation in the report, by quite a long way, is the almost complete withdrawal of the present annual block grant that government makes to universities to underwrite their teaching, currently around £3.9 billion. This is more than simply a ‘cut’, even a draconian one: it signals a redefinition of higher education and the retreat of the state from financial responsibility for it.

What Browne wants is

a system in which the universities are providers of services, students are the (rational) consumers of those services, and the state plays the role of the regulator. His premise is that ‘students are best placed to make the judgment about what they want to get from participating in higher education.’ His frequently repeated mantra is ‘student choice will drive up quality,’ and the measure of quality is ‘student satisfaction’. At the moment, he laments, ‘students do not have the opportunity to choose between institutions on the basis of price and value for money.’ Under his scheme, such value will be primarily judged by students in terms of ‘the employment returns from their courses’. Courses that lead to higher earnings will be able to charge higher fees.

Collini is a Professor of English, so it’s hardly surprising that he casts a beady eye on Browne’s use of the language. Consider the sentence in the report which asserts that “Students are best placed to make the judgment about what they want to get from participating in higher education.” “Looked at more closely”, writes Collini,

this statement reveals itself to be a vacuous tautology because of its reliance on the phrase “want to get”. By definition, individuals are privileged reporters on what they think they want. The sentence could only do the work the report requires of it if it said something more like: ‘Students are best placed to make the judgment about what they should get from participating in higher education.’ But this proposition is obviously false. Children may be best placed to judge what they want to get from the sweetshop, but they are not best placed to judge what they should get from their schooling. University students are, of course, no longer children, but nor are they simply rational consumers in a perfect market.

And then there is Brown’s touching faith in the market. “It is fascinating, and very revealing”, says Collini,

to see how Browne’s unreal confidence in the rationality of subjective consumer choice is matched by his lack of belief in reasoned argument and judgment. The sentence that immediately follows the vacuous one about students’ “wants” reads: “We have looked carefully at the scope to distribute funding by some objective metric of quality; but there is no robust way to do this and we doubt whether the choices of a central funding body should be put before those of students.” It is, first of all, striking that the only alternative envisaged to the random play of subjective consumer choice is an “objective metric of quality”, i.e. some purely quantitative indicator. And second, it is no less striking that instead of allowing that an informed judgment might be based on reasons, arguments and evidence, there are simply the ‘choices’ made by two groups, treated as though they are just two equivalent expressions of subjective preference. We can have the money for a national system of higher education distributed either in accordance with the tastes of 18-year-olds or in accordance with the tastes of a group of older people in London: there’s no other way to do it.

As Collini shows, the Browne report is an astonishingly vacuous document. What struck me most about it — speaking as an engineer — is the engineering mindset that it embodies. Browne owes his ascent in the university world to the patronage of Alec (now Lord) Broers, an engineer who presided over some strange developments in Cambridge university when he was its Vice-Chancellor and who often appeared to be completely mesmerised by Browne. Broers is a successful engineer but in most other respects always seemed to me to resemble Mr Magoo. His 2005 Reith Lectures (tellingly entitled “The Triumph of Technology”) were embarrassingly feeble. Most worryingly, he seemed completely blind to the significance of the humanities. And now, right on cue, comes his protege’s recommendation to cut all of the teaching grant for Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences in English universities. If the report is implemented, then only those who are rich, cultured or curious enough to shoulder the costs will study these subjects. And British society will be poorer as a result.

And, of course, everyone has been too polite to mention the fact that it was Engineer Browne who, as BP’s CEO, laid the foundations for the company’s disastrous foray into the US, and who then dug the pit for his own downfall by attempting to conceal the origins of a gay relationship. Why, one wonders, was such a booby entrusted with the fate of the British university system? For once, we cannot blame the Con-Dem coalition. The man who gave this particular clock to this particular monkey was Gordon Brown.

The death of language

This comes from an Irish Times column by Fintan O’Toole. He’s writing about a recent interview given by Brian Cowen, the Irish Taoiseach [Prime Minister]. But he could have been writing about any member of the UK Con-Dem coalition government.

For two years now, official speech has been a one-way process. The Government decided that it would do things of immense consequence, knowing there was very little public support for those actions. Never in the history of the State has a government adopted policies of such significance in the absence of any kind of public consensus in their favour.

Once you go down that road, real communication ceases. The Government can talk, but it cannot listen. Anything it would be likely to hear – public opinion, objective evidence, expert analysis – would tend to undermine its chosen certainties. So the talk has to be one-way. It has to be aimed, not at engaging in debate, but at getting across the idea that there is nothing to be debated. There are no choices, no alternatives, no legitimate differences. The purpose of all official speech is not to communicate, but to kill communication.

This is why the question hovering over all the fuss around Brian Cowen’s infamous interview is not “was he hung-over” It is Dorothy Parker’s response to the news that president Calvin Coolidge had died: “How could they tell?”

If you read the transcript without listening to the voice, Cowen’s interview on Morning Ireland is almost indistinguishable from the one he gave a few days earlier to RTÉ radio’s This Week programme. And that in turn is the same as almost every interview he has given in the last two years.

This is not because Cowen can’t communicate. In private, or on semi-formal occasions, he is articulate and engaging. It is because, as Taoiseach, he must speak a language as dead as Manx or Crimean Gothic. When words are used, not to stimulate discussion, but to deny the possibility of discussion, they die. They wither into verbiage. They become spin that has stopped spinning, propaganda that no one expects to fool anyone. And the first official language of the State is no longer Irish or English, it is this system of empty sounds, spoken into a void.

Whenever politicians invoke TINA (there is no alternative) you know they’re lying. Or kidding themselves. There’s a lot of lying and self-delusion going on at the moment.

Thanks to Lorcan Dempsey for the link.

Kafka rules OK at the Crown Prosecution Service: or how a careless tweet can cost you your job

Nick Cohen has a terrific column in today’s Observer about the ludicrous persecution of Paul Chambers for a silly Tweet.

The 27-year-old worked for a car parts company in Yorkshire. He and a woman from Northern Ireland started to follow each other on Twitter. He liked her tweets and she liked his and boy met girl in a London pub. They got on as well in person as they did in cyberspace. To the delight of their followers, Paul announced he would be flying from Robin Hood airport in Doncaster to Northern Ireland to meet her for a date.

In January, he saw a newsflash that snow had closed the airport. “Crap! Robin Hood Airport is closed,” he tweeted to his friends. “You’ve got a week… otherwise I’m blowing the airport sky high!”

People joke like this all the time. When they say in a bar: “I’ll strangle my boyfriend if he hasn’t done the washing up” or post on Facebook: “I’ll murder my boss if he makes me work late”, it does not mean that the bodies of boyfriends and bosses will soon be filling morgues.

You know the difference between making a joke and announcing a murder, I’m sure. Apparently the forces of law and order do not.

A plain-clothes detective from South Yorkshire Police arrived at Chambers’s work. Instead of quietly pointing out that it was best not to joke about blowing up airports, he arrested him under antiterrorist legislation. A posse of four more antiterrorist officers was waiting in reception.

“Do you have any weapons in your car?” they asked.

“I said I had some golf clubs in the boot,” Chambers told me.”But they didn’t think it was funny. I kept wondering, ‘When are they going to slap my wrists and let me go?’ Instead, they hauled me into a police car while my colleagues watched.”

The Crown Prosecution Service wanted to charge him under the law’s provisions against bomb hoaxers, a serious measure aimed at a serious public nuisance. But there had been no hoax. Paul Chambers had not caused a panic at the airport or intended to cause a panic. No one in authority knew about the tweet until some busybody decided to report Chambers.

Instead of displaying a little common sense and letting the matter rest, the CPS dug up an obscure section of the 2003 Communications Act, which makes it an offence to send a “menacing message” over a public telecommunications network.

It goes on — and gets worse, to the point where one really is reminded of Kafka. Chambers pleaded ‘not guilty’, but the CPS persuaded the judge that in the context of terrorist violence his tweet should be taken as a genuine threat, whether he was joking or not and whether the airport knew about the “threat” or not.

Chambers was given a criminal record and ordered to pay £1,000 in costs and fines. His employer then fired him. He decided to appeal against his conviction, moved to Northern Ireland to be near his girlfriend, and got another job. His Appeal is due to be heard next Friday, so he warned his new employer that his name would be in the papers and explained why. He was then duly sacked again.

The crazed authoritarianism that lies behind this case is one of the enduring legacies of New Labour, and it is one of the reasons that some of us were glad to see them lose the election. As Nick Cohen says:

The hounding of Paul Chambers stinks of Labour authoritarianism. The prosecuting authorities showed no respect for free speech. They could not take a joke. They carried on prosecuting Chambers even when they knew he was harmless. They turned a trifle into a crime because a conviction helped them hit performance targets. Inside their bureaucratic hierarchies, it was dangerous to speak out against a superior’s stupidity. Better to let an injustice take place than risk a black mark against your name.

If the court condemns the CPS, I can guarantee that Keir Starmer, the director of public prosecutions, will not fire or discipline the prosecutors involved. I doubt if he will even tell them they have undermined support for the anti-terrorist cause.

I don’t care what the polls say or how unpopular the coalition becomes – Labour must change the settled view of the majority of Britons that it is the party of politically correct jobsworths or it will never win another election.

Yep.

Welcome to 1938

Sobering NYT column by Paul Krugman.

Here’s the situation: The U.S. economy has been crippled by a financial crisis. The president’s policies have limited the damage, but they were too cautious, and unemployment remains disastrously high. More action is clearly needed. Yet the public has soured on government activism, and seems poised to deal Democrats a severe defeat in the midterm elections.

The president in question is Franklin Delano Roosevelt; the year is 1938. Within a few years, of course, the Great Depression was over. But it’s both instructive and discouraging to look at the state of America circa 1938 — instructive because the nature of the recovery that followed refutes the arguments dominating today’s public debate, discouraging because it’s hard to see anything like the miracle of the 1940s happening again.

Now, we weren’t supposed to find ourselves replaying the late 1930s. President Obama’s economists promised not to repeat the mistakes of 1937, when F.D.R. pulled back fiscal stimulus too soon. But by making his program too small and too short-lived, Mr. Obama did just that: the stimulus raised growth while it lasted, but it made only a small dent in unemployment — and now it’s fading out…

Yep. And there’s no indication that Osborne & Co understand this.