Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Thursday, 17 February 2011
Victory!
Following the remarkable scenes of uprising against Mubarak in Egypt, today has seen another political triumph - but this time for the British. The government's u-turn on the unnecessary selling off of the public forest estate should be greeted with giddy elation. These are some of our most valuable natural treasures, a constant source of escapism and enlightenment. In times when so many people feel disenchanted, stripped of their own democratic voice, then there is truly cause to celebrate this victory. It has shown that we do have a say, and our country would be a far more engaging and liberal place if we decide, every day, to clear our throats and speak that little bit louder.
Friday, 7 May 2010
Conservatives gain Stafford
The Labour stronghold of Stafford was overthrown last night (May 6) with a convincing win by Jeremy Lefroy securing victory for the Conservatives.
Labour candidate David Kidney had been in power since 1997, when he beat David Cameron.
Yet Mr Lefroy acknowledged Mr Kidney’s successful run over the past 13 years, saying in his acceptance speech: “I have got to earn the respect that David Kidney has earned.”
Mr Lefroy commended the amicable way in which all candidates had fought the election.
He said he was “very honoured” to have gained such a majority.
The Conservatives gained 22,047 votes, while Labour received 16,587.
Liberal Democrat candidate Barry Stamp received 8,211 votes, while UKIP’s Roy Goode polled 1,727. BNP candidate Thomas Hynd received 1,103 and the Green Party’s Mike Shone polled 564.
Turnout was up from 67% in 2005 to 71%, with 50,328 votes cast compared to 45,554 in 2005.
Mr Lefroy said: “The turnouts have been very good. I think people took a lot more interest, and I have noticed that a lot of young people have voted, which is good.”
He said he wanted to change the national perception of Stafford, following the recent controversy surrounding Stafford Hospital.
StaffsLive article
Thursday, 15 April 2010
The black billowing cloud
I always tend to be wary of things when they're considered popular. There's something inside me that ticks like a bomb, albeit one that is cushioned by a hundred used mattresses, or spun in bubble wrap and then discarded at the bottom of nobody's basement; but my body still tenses at that consistent, however muffled, ticking. It's as if I think no-one and no thing can be truly popular without some form of deception or cruelty or foul-play taking place. I don't judge myself to be naturally distrustful. I believe in many things, I suppose - what about you?
Upon waking to the news of the volcanic ash that's drifting ever closer, my immediate thought was of Don DeLillo's White Noise, and the airborne toxic event that he describes.
'...we saw a remarkable and startling sight. It appeared in the sky ahead of us and to the left, prompting us to lower ourselves in our seats, bend our heads for a clearer view, exclaim to each other in half finished phrases. It was the black billowing cloud, the airborne toxic event, lighted by the clear beams of seven army helicopters. They were tracking its windborne movement, keeping it in view. In every car, heads shifted, drivers blew their horns to alert others, faces appeared in side windows, expressions set in tones of outlandish wonderment.
The enormous dark mass moved like some death ship in a Norse legend, escorted across the night by armored creatures with spiral wings. We weren't sure how to react. It was a terrible thing to see, so close, so low, packed with chlorides, benzines, phenols, hydrocarbons, or whatever the precise toxic content. But it was also spectacular, part of the grandness of a sweeping event, like the vivid scene in the switching yard or the people trudging across the snowy overpass with children, food, belongings, a tragic army of the dispossessed. Our fear was accompanied by a sense of awe that bordered on the religious. It is surely possible to be awed by the thing that threatens your life, to see it as a cosmic force, so much larger than yourself, more powerful, created by elemental and willful rhythms. This was a death made in the laboratory, defined and measurable, but we thought of it at the time in a simple and primitive way, as some seasonal perversity of the earth like a flood or tornado, something not subject to control. Our helplessness did not seem compatible with the idea of a man-made event.'
So, I guess I believe in fiction.
Banksy: 'They exist without permission. They are hated, hunted and persecuted. They live in quiet desperation amongst the filth. And yet they are capable of bringing entire civilisations to their knees. If you are dirty, insignificant and unloved then rats are the ultimate role model.'
I've always been a fan of Banksy's art, and not just the curious suspicion it evokes in modern-day principles, but the means in which Banksy as an artist operates. To work with the medium of graffiti should be problematic for an artist, what with the obvious time pressures and legal issues that abound, not to mention the notion of whether it should be deemed 'art' at all by many individuals ('People look at an oil painting and admire the use of brushstrokes to convey meaning. People look at a graffiti painting and admire the use of a drainpipe to gain access'). I'm sure Banksy doesn't call it art. And yet it is obviously the means itself with Banksy that imbues his pieces with something more pertinent. His work is raw and angry, terse but suggestive. They stand as venomous advertisements, motifs of disillusionment and quiet violence. By scrawling it across a battered tube train on the District Line, or the empty canvas of a forgotten white-washed wall in Bristol, Banksy is asking for our distrust to the same degree as all those big-buck businesses are crying out for our hand via their next advertising campaign. His role as a graffiti artist is as much about reclaiming the streets from the rodents as it is about letting them loose from the stinking sewers. Are the rats those corporate companies and politicians that run riot, or is it the ordinary man, left squatting in his own mess? Surely it can't be a coincidence that 'rat' is an anagram of 'art'?
Tonight I will be watching the first televised political debate between the three main parties. I don't know who to vote for. I've questioned whether to vote at all. Then I get angry at people who say they won't be voting because they don't know or understand enough, which basically translates as they haven't tried to know or understand enough. I get angry at people who say they won't be voting because they don't believe it will make any difference, which actually means they don't want things to be any different. Everyone is claiming that this is the most exciting election in a long time because the race is so narrow but, when you think about it, it's actually the most unexciting because people just don't care who wins. The state of things hasn't quite reached the level of an 'airborne toxic event' yet, but it's certainly more than a 'feathery plume'; I'd say it's at the stage of a 'black billowing cloud', but one that is getting progressively closer and darker.
Banksy: 'Imagine a city where graffiti wasn't illegal, a city where everybody could draw wherever they liked. Where every street was awash with a million colours and little phrases. Where standing at a bus stop was never boring. A city that felt like a party where everyone was invited, not just the estate agents and barons of big business. Imagine a city like that and stop leaning against the wall - it's wet.'
Upon waking to the news of the volcanic ash that's drifting ever closer, my immediate thought was of Don DeLillo's White Noise, and the airborne toxic event that he describes.
'...we saw a remarkable and startling sight. It appeared in the sky ahead of us and to the left, prompting us to lower ourselves in our seats, bend our heads for a clearer view, exclaim to each other in half finished phrases. It was the black billowing cloud, the airborne toxic event, lighted by the clear beams of seven army helicopters. They were tracking its windborne movement, keeping it in view. In every car, heads shifted, drivers blew their horns to alert others, faces appeared in side windows, expressions set in tones of outlandish wonderment.
The enormous dark mass moved like some death ship in a Norse legend, escorted across the night by armored creatures with spiral wings. We weren't sure how to react. It was a terrible thing to see, so close, so low, packed with chlorides, benzines, phenols, hydrocarbons, or whatever the precise toxic content. But it was also spectacular, part of the grandness of a sweeping event, like the vivid scene in the switching yard or the people trudging across the snowy overpass with children, food, belongings, a tragic army of the dispossessed. Our fear was accompanied by a sense of awe that bordered on the religious. It is surely possible to be awed by the thing that threatens your life, to see it as a cosmic force, so much larger than yourself, more powerful, created by elemental and willful rhythms. This was a death made in the laboratory, defined and measurable, but we thought of it at the time in a simple and primitive way, as some seasonal perversity of the earth like a flood or tornado, something not subject to control. Our helplessness did not seem compatible with the idea of a man-made event.'
So, I guess I believe in fiction.
Banksy: 'They exist without permission. They are hated, hunted and persecuted. They live in quiet desperation amongst the filth. And yet they are capable of bringing entire civilisations to their knees. If you are dirty, insignificant and unloved then rats are the ultimate role model.'
I've always been a fan of Banksy's art, and not just the curious suspicion it evokes in modern-day principles, but the means in which Banksy as an artist operates. To work with the medium of graffiti should be problematic for an artist, what with the obvious time pressures and legal issues that abound, not to mention the notion of whether it should be deemed 'art' at all by many individuals ('People look at an oil painting and admire the use of brushstrokes to convey meaning. People look at a graffiti painting and admire the use of a drainpipe to gain access'). I'm sure Banksy doesn't call it art. And yet it is obviously the means itself with Banksy that imbues his pieces with something more pertinent. His work is raw and angry, terse but suggestive. They stand as venomous advertisements, motifs of disillusionment and quiet violence. By scrawling it across a battered tube train on the District Line, or the empty canvas of a forgotten white-washed wall in Bristol, Banksy is asking for our distrust to the same degree as all those big-buck businesses are crying out for our hand via their next advertising campaign. His role as a graffiti artist is as much about reclaiming the streets from the rodents as it is about letting them loose from the stinking sewers. Are the rats those corporate companies and politicians that run riot, or is it the ordinary man, left squatting in his own mess? Surely it can't be a coincidence that 'rat' is an anagram of 'art'?
Tonight I will be watching the first televised political debate between the three main parties. I don't know who to vote for. I've questioned whether to vote at all. Then I get angry at people who say they won't be voting because they don't know or understand enough, which basically translates as they haven't tried to know or understand enough. I get angry at people who say they won't be voting because they don't believe it will make any difference, which actually means they don't want things to be any different. Everyone is claiming that this is the most exciting election in a long time because the race is so narrow but, when you think about it, it's actually the most unexciting because people just don't care who wins. The state of things hasn't quite reached the level of an 'airborne toxic event' yet, but it's certainly more than a 'feathery plume'; I'd say it's at the stage of a 'black billowing cloud', but one that is getting progressively closer and darker.
Banksy: 'Imagine a city where graffiti wasn't illegal, a city where everybody could draw wherever they liked. Where every street was awash with a million colours and little phrases. Where standing at a bus stop was never boring. A city that felt like a party where everyone was invited, not just the estate agents and barons of big business. Imagine a city like that and stop leaning against the wall - it's wet.'
Monday, 1 March 2010
Not who, but how
FPTP. AV. PR. EH?
It was a month ago that Gordon Brown broadcast his plans to reform the current voting system, from first past the post (FPTP) to an alternative vote (AV). The tension between the talk of reform and the impending elections has meant that I can't help but ponder, with my limited political understanding, the more simplistic facts of our voting system, rather than all its many intricacies. And what has bewildered me is why it is put in the hands of the government to decide how we vote.
In the proposed referendum, we would have the option of either FPTP or an AV. If common sense prevails, surely proportional representation (PR) is the nearest means of creating a clear democratic process in Britain? This is my opinion, and others may feel differently. What seems ridiculous is that the public don't even command the right to address what election process we vote under. Why is it not put to us as to what voting system we favour? FPTP is heavily criticised... so why do we still have it? Why should I choose between FPTP and AV if I believe proportional representation is the fairer system? Because a government who was elected into power through FPTP says so? An open choice of how we vote may even inspire more people to get involved in politics if they felt their voice counted for something. Currently, I feel it's less about who we vote for, and more to do with how.
It was a month ago that Gordon Brown broadcast his plans to reform the current voting system, from first past the post (FPTP) to an alternative vote (AV). The tension between the talk of reform and the impending elections has meant that I can't help but ponder, with my limited political understanding, the more simplistic facts of our voting system, rather than all its many intricacies. And what has bewildered me is why it is put in the hands of the government to decide how we vote.
In the proposed referendum, we would have the option of either FPTP or an AV. If common sense prevails, surely proportional representation (PR) is the nearest means of creating a clear democratic process in Britain? This is my opinion, and others may feel differently. What seems ridiculous is that the public don't even command the right to address what election process we vote under. Why is it not put to us as to what voting system we favour? FPTP is heavily criticised... so why do we still have it? Why should I choose between FPTP and AV if I believe proportional representation is the fairer system? Because a government who was elected into power through FPTP says so? An open choice of how we vote may even inspire more people to get involved in politics if they felt their voice counted for something. Currently, I feel it's less about who we vote for, and more to do with how.
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
An almighty bigot
I finally got round to watching Australia, Baz Luhrman's fourth masterpiece. I know, I know, I'm late to the party as usual (fashionably late mind... I was wearing the speckled trousers), but there's no excuse for it. Ultimately uplifting and a true tale of what it means to come 'home', Luhrman's spectacle is astounding. I genuinely do believe there's no other director quite like him around today.
At the end of the film, we are told that the Australian government 'officially abandoned the assimilation policy for indigenous Australians in the northern territory in 1973'.
How is it that a four-digit fact can be so harrowing?
Then, as I turn off the DVD player and BBC news pops up on screen, a story is being ran about Iris Robinson, the wife of Northern Ireland's First Minister Peter Robinson, telling of how she had admitted last night that she had tried to kill herself after confessing to her husband that she had had an affair. This is the same woman who claims homosexuality is, I quote, an "abomination", something that makes her feel quite "sick" and "nauseous". As right-thinking members of society condemned this vile woman for her remarks, her husband rushed to her defence, saying:
"It wasn't Iris Robinson who determined that homosexuality was an abomination, it was The Almighty. This is the Scriptures and it is a strange world indeed where somebody on the one hand talks about equality, but won't allow Christians to have the equality, the right to speak, the right to express their views."
This is ignorance at its finest. Sometimes this world is so fast-moving that I temporarily forget these kind of views are still held, and that it's only been 37 years since the atrocities against those of mixed race ended in Australia. The fact that someone like Iris Robinson is a figurehead for a state like Northern Ireland...? It's beyond comprehension.
I wonder what The Almighty has to say about adultery and suicide, eh Iris?
At the end of the film, we are told that the Australian government 'officially abandoned the assimilation policy for indigenous Australians in the northern territory in 1973'.
How is it that a four-digit fact can be so harrowing?
Then, as I turn off the DVD player and BBC news pops up on screen, a story is being ran about Iris Robinson, the wife of Northern Ireland's First Minister Peter Robinson, telling of how she had admitted last night that she had tried to kill herself after confessing to her husband that she had had an affair. This is the same woman who claims homosexuality is, I quote, an "abomination", something that makes her feel quite "sick" and "nauseous". As right-thinking members of society condemned this vile woman for her remarks, her husband rushed to her defence, saying:
"It wasn't Iris Robinson who determined that homosexuality was an abomination, it was The Almighty. This is the Scriptures and it is a strange world indeed where somebody on the one hand talks about equality, but won't allow Christians to have the equality, the right to speak, the right to express their views."
This is ignorance at its finest. Sometimes this world is so fast-moving that I temporarily forget these kind of views are still held, and that it's only been 37 years since the atrocities against those of mixed race ended in Australia. The fact that someone like Iris Robinson is a figurehead for a state like Northern Ireland...? It's beyond comprehension.
I wonder what The Almighty has to say about adultery and suicide, eh Iris?
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