Tag: UK

Lowering the Voting Age

The line-up of predicable grumpiness is no more than might be expected. For once the UK’s Government has decided to bite the bullet and make a long overdue change. It’s time to bring the voting age down to 16-years old. This is a policy that has long been advocated by Liberal Democrats. Wisely so. Like it or not, we have a stubborn geriocracy in Britan. Political influence is top heavy. An agenda dominated by issues toping the polls with older voters.

Yes, we did see changes, a year ago with the last General Election. More younger candidates winning. However, the average age of a Member of Parliament[1] floats around 50-years. This average age hasn’t changed much over decades.

Studies on what motivates candidates to stand for election often point to community engagement and activism being part of their lives. It’s only when, in mid-life, opportunities present themselves and support can be marshalled that they stand for election.

And the retirement community of the House of Lords is solely built on the notion that age brings wisdom. Sadly, so often this does not ring true. Ten minutes watching the Parliamentary channel is a good way to see a range of speakers from erudite to senile. From expert to confused. From informed to delusionary. On occasion a few sleeping on the comfortable red leather benches.

When the elderly hold so much political power it’s difficult enough to get 18-year-olds to take an interest in voting. This is not an argument for the status-quo. Far from it.

Those in the age group 16 to 18 years are interested in society and the direction it’s taking. Youth activism hasn’t entirely perished in the world of tick-boxing education. Loading students up with enormous loans, with learning establishments seeing them as revenue generators, and deaf ears to their concerns has done a lot to supress youth engagement in elections.

There’s a lot to be said for “no taxation without representation”. Young people do work. They do pay taxes. They should have a stake in how those taxes are spent.

What’s not to be presumed is that a new youth vote will automatically lean to the left of politics. It’s easy to make that sloppy assumption. It may arise because the prominent youth activist who get media exposure are those campaigning on environmental and social issues. That does not say much about the majority who may choose to go to a polling station.

I think the larger number of young voters, despite the media stereotypes, will likely vote the way of their parents and friends. Having been nurtured in a particular way this is not so surprising. The lazy stereotypes of riotous youths biting the hand that feeds them is only true of a few, it’s not the majority. It’s belonging to dusty Woodstock documentaries.

It’s for the political parties to up their game and campaign with young people in mind. Even with the best of efforts election turn-out is still likely to be low. At least the message is that the next generation matter. If these modest changes are blocked because older people fear the next generation that is a very sad reflection of our society. Surely, it’s better to have younger people invested in their communities. 

[1] https://www.parliament.uk/about/faqs/house-of-commons-faqs/members-faq-page2/

The Greasy Pole

I think we should be indebted to the writers of “Yes Minister.” And the brilliance of Paul Eddington, Nigel Hawthorne, and Derek Fowlds[1]. No mobile phones, lap-tops or tablets, wood panelled offices, a Minister with all the backbone of a jellyfish and the cunning and mountainous pomposity of Oxbridge’s best.

It’s the ultimate lesson for aspiring British politicians. Fresh faced, with ambition and desire to make a difference they are confronted with the custom and practice of centuries. A bureaucratic minefield that tops anything Brussels can produce.

At first, it’s easy to see Jim Hacker as naive to the point of merely being indulged by the civil service. He learns fast, as a good parliamentarian should always do. Fun being seeing him turn the tables on the Whitehall establishment. Often at the expense of hysterically awkward moments and sporadic cynical manoeuvrings.

Last night, I watched “The greasy pole”[2]. Without a doubt this episode remains 100% relevant. It first went out in 1981. The story’s themes are universal.

A proposed industrial development offers secure jobs and potential prosperity. It comes with a hitch. Activism and noisy protests aimed against the project. Industry and the civil service want the factory to get built. The Right Honourable James Hacker sits on the fence. Blows hot and cold but realises that his political career pivots around sinking the project. The Minister wins out in the end much to the discomfort of the department officials.

It would be easy to write the entire plot in terms of 2025’s political difficulties. This morning’s News ran a story that wasn’t so far off the plot of “The greasy pole.”

A new Labour government minister tells of publishing a report that favours a point of view he wishes to get across. He continually mentions the name of the author of the report. Mimicking Jim Hacker as he makes sure everyone knows the report’s author, just in case he’s made a mistake.

Although, with the complete ridiculousness of the past British Conservative governments it may have been said that satire is dead. No, it certainly isn’t. Here it was playing out on the BBC on my kitchen radio at breakfast time.

This is the stubborn reality. In Britain we have a new absurdly named political party called “Reform.” They are flying high in the opinion polls because some people think the word has a political meaning. However, if these would be politicians were to gain a position of power, would they conduct long-needed reforms? Well, given the competence of the people involved and given the historic clashes between elected officials and civil servants the answer is most certainly – no.

It seems to me that new Labour government ministers are slowly getting the hang of the job. One year in they are still a bit wet behind the ears. Gradually, they are climbing the greasy pole. At any moment, because of the nature of the job, down they can come, and they know it.

[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episodes/b006xtc3/yes-minister

[2] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0751819/

Cynicism to Appreciation

A couple of things came together this week. I had the pleasure of enjoying 35 degrees in Brussels. The joy of the odious metro, the brutalist main station and the wandering herds of tourists. Overhead one couple saying do you know that they have a statue of a little boy having a wee. I flinched because I genuinely thought everyone in the world knew of the Manneken Pis[1]. How can anyone not know?

It was a Canadian who prompted me to undo a prejudice of mine. Loving the air conditioning in the hotel, I looked to my iPad for late evening entertainment. There was the man – Clarkson. Irritating prankster and motorhead. Not known for meaningful commentary. I’d resisted watching his series Clarkson’s Farm[2] on the basis that I’d want to throw bricks at the screen.

This week I watched the first series. Made pre-COVID. Fine, it’s not a serious documentary about the trials and tribulations of British farming in the 21st century. True to form it’s pure entertainment. Edited highlights of comic moments and true to form tomfoolery.

My mind is changed. I started as a cynic. Here’s a moneymaking scheme for a wealthy landowner who made riches in the television world. To here’s a have a go spirit let loose on what people often assume is easy but, in fact, is mighty hard to do. The series is an engaging journey of discovery all but made for the small screen.

How can you not make a profit out of a highly desirable spread of a thousand acres in some of the most beautiful countryside in Britain? Experience counts and when you have none, it counts even more. Watching the lights come on in Clarkson’s head is well worth a watch.

Farming with drone shots and a camera crew following is obviously not the real world. Nicely edited highlights tell the story on the page. Put aside any cynicism. The show has a way of story telling that brings out the awkward, funny and frustrating reality of farming. Folly, errors and mishaps are all part of what happens in that colourful industry.

There was a world pre-COVID. Going back even further, there was a world before the fireworks of the year 2000. It was summed up by the brothers Gallagher. Yes, I am talking about the getting back together of Oasis. A band that was a bit more than an everyday rock band.

Having survived watching last week’s televising of the one millionth Glastonbury festival (exaggeration), the memories of the “real” contrast with the artificial, bland and merely controversial for the sake of it. Those years in the mid-1990s were good ones, if only I’m using the trick of selective memory. Remember when people who supported leaving Europe were strange and social media was only a rare tacky e-mail.

Maybe I’m getting more Clarkson-like as time flies.

[1] https://www.introducingbrussels.com/manneken-pis

[2] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt10558964/

The Intriguing Life of Jackdaws

As the grass turns brown, the sun beats down. Me, I just a lawnmower[1]. Now, that’s probably the daftest lyric that has ever been written in the history of rock. As I look out of the window at the parched grass there’s no way I’d take my lawnmower to it. If I did there would be nothing, but dirt left in its wake. Stubborn deep-rooted weeds and dead moss.

It’s summer. It’s unusually dry. Although, as the sun came up this morning, looking out of the bedroom window, a thin mist covered the ground. That was early. Between 4am and 5am. A thin white mist, low to the ground, must refresh the grass just a little. Most of nature sleeps.

As the morning progresses its not long before one dominant sound fills the air. It’s not the cars on the nearby road. One species of bird has adopted the tall trees, field next door and my garden. They are not a quite bird. To those that know their call is instantly recognisable. Their sound isn’t musical like some birds. It’s an incessant chatter. Loud and repetitious.

Jackdaws are having no trouble despite the dying grass and rock-hard ground. Our community of noisy birds is thriving. I guess their advantage is that they eat just about anything that’s going. Not much concern about predators as they take no care to hide their presence. I’ve seen them happily mocking larger birds. Showing off seems to make them happy.

As far as evolution goes, they have a lot of advantages. Equally agile hopping around on the ground as they are swooping and diving from tall trees. There’s no doubt they have a complex social etiquette. One or two minutes watching how they interact gives this away. Bigger, more mature, birds intimidate the younger ones.

Can’t say I like them much. More that I admire them for being so savvy. Jackdaws look as if they own the place. It’s not my garden. They are saying, we come a go as we please, you can share the space if you like. Sooty black masters of the airspace.

We’ll tolerate each other mainly because we have no other choice. Trying to scare a jackdaw is a fruitless task. They learn quickly. Soon sussing out that they can get the better of you.

As the sun beats down, I lay on my lounger. Listening to the endless chatter. Me, I’m just a bird feeder. Watching as the skies fill with shiny black dots. There for moment and gone the next.

[1] https://genius.com/Genesis-i-know-what-i-like-in-your-wardrobe-lyrics

F2F with a machine

Daily writing prompt
Describe one of your favorite moments.
View all responses

Coming face to face with a Cyberman. It’s walking towards me. The crowd is clearing. I’m directly in its path. It’s got an evil stare. A dramatic sound fills the air. I don’t want to be converted into a mindless machine. Help!

Hang on. I’m standing on the floor of the Royal Albert Hall in London. It’s full to the brim with excited people. It’s hot. It’s August. How did this happen to me?

To make sense of this I can see an orchestra on stage pounding out a science fiction theme. Yes, I’m at the Doctor Who BBC Prom[1] a year ago. That was fun moment. Quite a few in fact.

[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/events/e5drn3

Challenges to Liberty

We live in interesting times. Conflict and turbulence, shifting political loyalties, and rapid technology advances. What a mix.

I don’t want to say – twas ever so. That’s a resignation. To say that challenges and tragedies are of exceptional magnitude in any one era. Since forecasting is such a fragile art, better or worse maybe just around the corner.

What’s unique is our societal expectations. Whereas a serf in a feudal country had little hope of a better life. Today, our higher expectations come from generations of struggle having improved the circumstance of the individual and our communities. Improvements in standards of living, economic, social, environmental, are maintained by an adherence to the “rule of law”. However, imperfect that might be.

The basic stuff still matters. English liberties, in great part, stem from the Magna Carta of 1215[1]. It may have not been immediately successful, as Monarchs and Popes quickly tried to kill it. What’s amazing is that its core content has echoed down the centuries.

Democratic societies have taken on rights, human rights, in their simplest essence. Each of us expects a day in court. A means to defend ourselves from the exercise of arbitrary power.

Yes, for hundreds of years English Monarchs continued to assert what they claimed to be God given powers. Until that came to a head. Literally so. The English Civil War set the rights of the citizen against the arbitrary power of a King.

Where I am now there are signs of that past conflict. In fact, I can see one of from my kitchen window. Surrounded by trees, on the brow of a hill, overlooking a fast-flowing river, is the remains of a castle. Most of Donnington Castle[2] was destroyed but the gate house tower remains. The winning side, Parliament ordered its destruction.

You can understand why I get nervous when politicians assert that they are on a mission from God. Centuries of conflict have bought a citizen’s protections from arbitrary power. To see it return under the guise of personal ambition and careless action is sad.

Yes, there are lots of undemocratic places in the world where this does not apply. Even so, with all its imperfections, English liberty did spread far and wide. It made its way across the Atlantic Ocean. Constitutional practices maybe different but common law prevails.

I hope democratic societies will emerge stronger from this turbulent period. Shifting sand is everywhere. Values are being assailed. Nevertheless, there’s every good reason to believe that a strengthening of our society is possible. A progressive vision offers so much more than a backside into a dark past.

[1] https://www.magnacartatrust.org/

[2] https://www.battlefieldstrust.com/resource-centre/battleview.asp?BattleFieldId=89

Evolution Politics

Wake up John. The herald of today was there in the late 1990s. There was me fascinated by the possibilities of the INTERNET. Buzzing modem squeaking down a phone line. With such peculiarities as Y2K behind us the new century provided broadband access to everyone. Almost everyone. Eventually, being off grid became a sales tag for remote rural settings.

Meanwhile, good old-fashioned popular entertainment media was desperately trying to make itself relevant to the new era. Proliferation of reruns were not enough. Stale formats dwindled. In that maelstrom, reality television was born. Technology shaped what became possible. It was a horror to me but then again, I was just out of touch.

Big Brother is a strange beast. Watching joe average or minor celebrities make complete fools of themselves for big bucks – how could that work? It did, bigtime. Undeniably scoring with the public. It spawned lots of similar shows bombarding us with unscripted chat seen through the tight lens of an edited television show.

Not quite like throwing Christians to the lions, familiar to Romans, but a social experiment open to participants combative as much as caring behaviour. Watching relatable and unrelatable volunteers try their best to seem nice or nasty as they thought appealing.

25-years on, now British politics begins to resemble reality television. That creation provided a pathway through our screens to capture our attention. To make names out of relatively unknowns. Or to revive careers waning.

I said “begins to resemble” without realising that I’m being a dinosaur. It’s here. A politician can’t anymore stand on a soap box and pontificate about the world. The grand ark of a well written speech is destined for the dustbin. Every presentation needs to be framed as if they are in the jungle (I’m a Celebrity…Get Me Out of Here![1]).

Reality shows are becoming a training ground for political personalities. Forget the serious need to do an apprenticeship. That one has been hijacked too. The basic grind of administration and casework can be bypassed if the candidate is a good enough showman or woman.

Going back to the 1990s, I think a lot of us were naive about the coming technologies. There was an imagining of the information superhighway[2] as a great educator. A positive liberator. A forum for better communication. Making it easier for people to have a real dialogue with the elected officials. Thus, solving problems, cutting down bureaucracy and engaging communities.  

Of course it is those things. The naivety came with the blindness to the huge entertainment possibilities. How reality and make-believe can get intermingled. How dominant personalities would capture the cameras like Hollywood stars.

With that fuzziness between reality and make-believe storytelling takes on a new importance. That’s what political managers have discovered in abundance. Medium and message have always been closely linked. Now, a would-be star or demigod must take that ever more seriously to win.

[1] https://www.itv.com/imacelebrity

[2] https://www.bbc.co.uk/videos/czv20818q2no

The Evolution of Travel

Nothing is stationary. As our solar system circulates the milky way and everything we know is in motion. Nature abhors the stationary. Movement is a part of all living things. Even on dead worlds, like Mars, dust devils whiz across barren surfaces to get caught on camera.

The more we move the more we change. History’s long tail shows that the rooting of people to a place is a temporary affair. What’s changed is our means of locomotion. In the stone age great distances were traversed but not in a hurry. Speed is a modern acquisition.

It is modern. Where I live now is, and has been, a route from East to West and vice versa for much more than a thousand years. For most of that time either our feet or horses where the means of locomotion. Time had to be set aside for perilous and uncomfortable journeys

Travel is a wonderful experience. Even if the time spent between A and B is tedious, draining and eventful in an unwanted way. Adventure beckons in a manner that has always overcome the inconvenience. Certain airlines would never have succeeded if comfort was a must.

In the 17th century getting from London to Bath was a major undertaking. A speed of 30 or 40 miles per day on rain-soaked roads of poor repair there was need to rest up and take a journey in stages. It’s these habits that have shaped the view of traditional England. Gone are the toll houses and the highwaymen but the routes and public houses remain. Well, fewer and fewer of them as business is tough[1].

Travel is that perennial hope, that there is a silver lining to every cloud, that good times are only just around the corner. That in travel we will see, hear and experience something new and to our benefit. It’s not a free lunch. Effort must be made to reap this benefit. It’s there in the word. It’s the Norman-French origins of travel. Travail is to work and labour.

Ironically, although there are exceptions, modern society is trying to make travel as little effort as is possible. Even to the extent of automating vehicles when the demand for such innovations is minuscule. It’s not increased comfort or convenience that’s the aim. No, it’s to dissect time into even smaller parts so that people do not “waste” time travelling.

In an age before concrete and steel carved a path through the English countryside, a journey was a venture to be planned and considered with trepidation. A land of fields and meadows, rivers and streams, and notoriously changeable weather.

Comparisons with today do fall by the wayside. Towards the end of the 17th century the population of the whole of the country was only about 5 million. Creeping industrialisation was drawing people into the cities. Change was on the way.

[1] Hard Times of Old England https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoWEiq_Z0aw

A Day at the Bath and West Agricultural Show

It’s a part of my childhood. It’s fascinating to see how it has changed over the decades. There’s hardly a year go by when I don’t go to at least one agricultural show in the UK.

Last year, I visited the Lincoln show and the Newbury show for the first time. Most of the summer rural shows in the UK have a long history that is kept going by an Agricultural Society. The bigger ones have dedicated show sites and some permanent buildings. The smaller ones can be a large field that’s set aside for a couple of days a year. Each show reflects the nature of the farming, the crops, the animals, in its region.

This Friday, my day out was a trip to the Bath and West show[1] in Somerset. The show site is large. Spread over a south facing gently sloping hillside. To the south of the town of Shepton Mallet, at the base of Prestleigh Hill.

That’s my family connection. My mother grew-up on a small farm in Prestleigh. It’s not named on the map anymore as a couple of the buildings are now dwellings. Yew Tree Farm was situated on a dangerous bend on the main A371 road where traffic must veer right as it comes down the hill. The alternative being to hit a wall and end up in the farmyard. If I remember correctly, my grandad got free tickets to the Bath and West as they used one of his fields for a car park. As children we would hop over the fence to go straight to the show.

This year, the ground was as hard as rock underfoot. Spring has been unusually dry. There’s more dust than mud. That’s good for the show. There have been years when the wind and rain have swept the exposed show site and blown down tents and made mini rivers. Making welly boots mandatory.

What has changed? Although this annual event is predominantly a showcase for West Country food and farming it’s gone beyond that formula to become an atypical half-term family day trip. It’s no longer a place where local farmers strike deals with machinery salesman or learn about the latest breeds or cropping methods. That post-war image of mucky tractors and trailers turning up in droves is for vintage postcards.

What’s nice is that there’s something for everyone with an interest in the English countryside. Beekeepers, cider markers (and drinkers), cheese makers, traction engine enthusiasts, rare breeds, heavy horses along with tea and cake in the WI tent.

Sheep started big this year. Cattle and pigs less so. Again, the word is enthusiasts. Breeds rare and commercial ones all cleaned up for display and judging. Handlers, young and old, parading their animals for picky judges to prod and score. Then colourful rosettes displayed with pride.

It’s not a cheap day out for townsfolk and county people anymore. Car parking might be free but the price of entry and just about anything on-site can quickly rack up. Everywhere, even in a field, we have become a cashless society. A tap here, a tap there, no longer do we dig into our pockets for loose change.

For the good weather and crowds, I expect this year’s 3-day event will be evaluated as a great success. Keeping the tradition going.

[1] https://www.bathandwest.com/royal-bath-and-west-show

Relationship with the EU

Monday, Monday[1]. It’s a wonderful 60s song. Harmonies and mood are perfect. I wonder if the harmonies and mood will be perfect for the Prime Minister (PM) on Monday. Already the Sunday Press are setting the stage for Monday’s performance.

Reset, recalibration, reheat, rekindle, re-whatever. It’s a moment when relations between the UK and the European Union (EU) can make realistic progress[2]. In world full of uncertainty (could be a song in that one), for once the direction of travel is a constructive and positive.

I think the word “deal” is getting overplayed. Indications are that there’s no fundamental shift from Brexit meaning Brexit, as one former PM liked to say. In fact, the current PM is being highly cautious in the light of his Party’s reading of the latest opinion polls. For no sane reason I can think of, the swivel-eyed loons of the far-right are making hay.

It’s astonishing me how dim-witted the Conservative Party is in objecting to something when they don’t even know, for sure, what it is. Mind-blowing. And the rum cult of Reform Party doing the same with extra bile. What a load of prehistoric fruit loops.

Brexit supporters are spreading misinformation, again. Saying that UK has no influence. It’s true, the UK doesn’t have votes in the European Council or Parliament, but significant influence can be exercised on standards, and regulatory guidance, nevertheless. A better “deal” can bring much greater influence. Absolutely vital in the digital world, and for the UK, a country with a services-based economy.

Brexit has cost the UK dearly. The UK Treasury would have billions more in its coffers if the 2016 referendum had never taken place. The standard of living of every person in the UK is lower because of Brexit bungling. Ideally, that great mistake is an event to be written up for the history books and then forgotten.

On top of the above, uncharacteristic moves in the US, with Trump tariffs there’s nasty hit at the UK’s future prosperity. There couldn’t be a better time to repair relationships with the UK’s nearest neighbours. The countries with which we share most of our long history.

Even for those on the political right, practically, the EU is never going away, so until the day the UK rejoins the block, it’s wise to have the best possible relationship in all matters. Goods, services and people need to connect as a case of mutual benefit.

It’s time for hope. An optimistic tone should be set. A smile. Let’s hope we are singing Monday, Monday so good to me, Monday morning was all I hoped it would be. Naturally, that there be no crying, come Monday evening.

[1] https://genius.com/The-mamas-and-the-papas-monday-monday-lyrics

[2] https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/brexit-uk-eu-reset-trade-deal-starmer-b2752285.html