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Tuesday 27 March 2012

Constant

Tick

4 people are born

Tock

2 people die

Tick

The Earth moves another thirty kilometres

Tock

The bloody clock in front of me refuses to. Just. Stop.

I clench my fists, tightly, tightly, until nails dig into palm and pain sneers derisively at my Tick incompetence. I hold them out in front of me, arms stretched, facing the clock. And then, never blinking, not once blinking (might miss something), I continue looking at the time piece, and Tock then

BAM!

Like a fleshy gunshot, I open my hands, waggling fingers slightly. Palms are white, yellow, pink, red failures. Because Tick there it goes again.

Time time time time time timety time time BLOODY Tock TIME! Does it stop? No? Will it stop? Yes, yes I’m sure. Because I’m close. So close. So very, very Tick close...

A young boy, lying in a verdant field. Joyous green stalks brush flesh, and perfect clouds in a perfect sky tell a story of a perfect life. But...
“Stop lazing! You’ve work to do!”
Never. Enough. Time. Never enough time to just...be.
The boy sighs, gets up. There’ll be time tomorrow.

A knock on the door disturbs my concentration. I irritably wave my hand in the sound’s direction, hoping to bat the annoyance away. It Tock rings out again, a more urgent knocking this time. I close my eyes and exhale loudly. There are murmured voices at my door, but there is nothing as urgent as the Tick task in hand. After some time, I don’t know, don’t care, how long, it stops. Hah! At least some things can Tock stop. I place my hands on the clock, keep my eyes closed, and focus.

A teenager, sitting in a hot room, scribbling away furiously on the exam in front of him.
“Last two minutes!” cries the voice of the apocalypse.
He lets out an inaudible cry of despair. The pen nib bursts as he forces it on the paper.
Each second falls like a hammer. There is still so much to do but there isn’t-
“Put your pens down.”
-the time to do it in.

I feel something different; an inner peace. Hunger pangs at my stomach, but the need for nutrition seems largely trivial now. Big things are going to happen. Big, Tick important things.

My clock, my friend, my enemy, my love, my Satan. But a voice piece of the greatest foe in this universe, but, O, what a fickle, mocking voice piece it Tock is. I carefully put it back on the table. The corner of my left eye twitches and, in a moment of weakness, I blink. Then I curse this lack of willpower. Tock.

The phone starts to ring. Without taking my eyes of the clo- it, I carefully lift it, then, maintaining eye contact, find some scissors Tick and cut the cord of the phone. I allow myself a chuckle. I pause briefly, then close the blinds, bolt the doors, turn off my mobile. The outside world is a distraction, and has brought little Tock good to me.

A man, in a suit, standing, swearing, in a cramped train. He glances at his watch, frequently and nervously. He clutches a CV and another form with carefully printed details over it.
 A tinny soothsayer proclaims “Unexpected delays”.
But they weren’t unexpected. The man, who realises now, and perhaps, deep-down, always knew, that this job interview was just another joke reality threw at him, expected them.

I Tick look dead ahead of me, and concentrate. All that is me focuses on that clock, on time itself, and I push my mind until it roars and squirms and suffers. There’s a point, when everything just hurts, at which you transcend the pain. It’s there, all over your body, but you’re not there to experience it. Instead of pain, I feel just a warm light-headedness. And I keep on concentrating.

The tea next to me is stone cold, but I don’t care. There’s a buzzing in my ears, but I don’t care. A vessel in my nose bursts, and glistening red desperation streams down my face, but I don’t care. Coloured lights explode in front of my eyes, Mary weeps in a painting and Jesus laughs from a piece of old toast, but I don’t care, because I have beaten time. I have beaten time. It waits for no man, but it waits for me. I dared to stare it in the eye, and

Tock

Years pass, or at least it seems that way. I begin to giggle. Slowly, quietly, at first. Then, Tick like the constant, uncontrollable, forever-to-damn-us flow of time, the laughter streams out. I can’t stop. Vision goes hazy. Goes dark. Goes Tock black. Time, you joker ,you...

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I almost had it, there. Almost.

A dishevelled man, the wrong side of thirty, lying in a heap on a litter covered floor in a decrepit flat.
Voices cry out to him, but he doesn’t know who they are, or what they say. He listens only to the clock. It stares at him, grins at him, gleams at him. He looks up at it, weakly, neck barely supporting his body, body barely supporting life. He stretches out to touch it, and, for once in his life, he finds that he finally has the time to carry out this action, this last, pathetic, action. 
At last, he has enough time.

Monday 19 March 2012

Essay- "Fairness must be at the heart of good government"

Interesting story, this one. A few weeks ago, I sent a letter into a local paper, challenging some disparaging remarks someone made about the coalition. He wrote back, and made some patronising comments about the Nazis ("if [Chris] had studied modern history..."). Then, my friend wrote in. And we thought that was the end of it. However, in the Friday 16th March edition of this paper, some local Lib Dems basically said that they had been inspired by the letters of me and my friend, and subsequently created an essay competition, with a set title which had to be commented on. Below is mine. (I might get round to writing something less serious, and indeed original and entertaining (hopefully- ooh, look. Brackets in brackets (how pretentious)), at some point. Insert general excuse about work and lack of imagination.)
It's a bit of a lengthy read, at 2000, but heigh-ho. Deal with it.



“Fairness must lie at the heart of good government”
"The British people believes itself to be free. In this it is gravely mistaken; it is free only once in every four years, during the election of its members of parliament. For the rest of the time, it is nothing more than a puppet of its corrupt government.”

The French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau expressed this sentiment in the mid 18th Century, a period when Britain was still stumbling into and experimenting with democracy. The Bill of Rights, which followed William of Orange a year after his Glorious Revolution, did much to limit and constrain the arbitrary and unchecked powers of the monarch, perhaps marking the most recognisable transition from absolute to constitutional monarchy. However, it did little in meeting the goal of a fair and democratic government; it merely moved the goalposts by addressing the nature of the executive, rather than the method. Before the Great Reform Act of 1832, a system wherein just 3% of the population (some 214,000 men in 1780) could cast a vote could barely be described as democratic or fair, and neither could the government that it produced.

Fast forward just over 200 years, and the situation is bleakly familiar. In 1997, total, nigh-on-unrestrained power was granted to a man for whom only two in five people voted. Thanks to the warping effect first-past-the-post has on British democracy, Tony Blair enjoyed a majority of 179 despite around 60% of people failing to express support for him. What followed was that most worrying of things: a presidential-style Head of Government, granted the powers of Head of State by the Royal Prerogative; a figure who perfectly matched the spectre of “elective dictatorship” that Lord Hailsham warned of; a Prime Minister who, due to his majority, Party Whips, and relentless headstrong attitude, could and would do whatsoever he pleased. Over his decade of power, Blair hamstrung human rights in a draconian, knee-jerk reaction to 9/11, opened the gate to student fees and the huge resultant debts, and waged an illegal war which caused the deaths of thousands of innocents.

The point isn’t ‘Blair was a bad person; therefore all governments are bad things’, although undoubtedly the Blair regime was saturated in unfairness, both in how it came to be and how it acted. The point is that a supposedly fair and democratic system that allowed this to happen must be intrinsically flawed and deeply unfair in itself. And although, at face value, an unfair system is different from an unfair government, it is clear that the two are broadly related and interlinked; after all, as Blair for some and Thatcher for others proved, it is depressingly easy to install an unjust government if the system itself is poor. So, if fairness is indeed desired for good government (which, I will argue, it is), then the political system must first be addressed. A fair, wholly democratic system can lead to an executive that shares these traits; a government that truly is, as Abraham Lincoln said, ‘of the people, by the people, for the people’. And in a democratic society, a government that serves and is chosen by the people cannot be too far from being a good one.

Before the merits of ‘fairness’ can truly be discussed, it must first be defined, as must ‘good government’. Living, as we do, in a liberal democracy, most would agree that the state is the servant of the people, not vice versa; therefore, a ‘good government’ is one that acts well and efficiently in the interests of the nation, both as a collective entity and a collection of individuals. Fairness constitutes accountability and transparency, and an outlook that is broadly egalitarian and unprejudiced, offering equal opportunity regardless of race, religion or gender. Both of these aspects, and their advantages, will be examined.

It is in any government’s interest to maintain its position of power for as long as possible, and it achieves this by keeping the majority of the population happy. When this fails, though, a distinct line is drawn between dictatorships and democracies. A dictatorship can ultimately forgo good government which appeases the people, as long as it has a good military that can suppress them. This is clearly illustrated by the atrocities in Syria; unfairness there has ultimately led to the death of over 8000 people, a figure which continues to rise. In democracies, however, the government can be ousted simply by putting a slip of paper in a box. Although, as Rousseau said, this is an infrequent opportunity, it is nonetheless one that defines democratic governments; if they wish to remain in power, they have to consider every action, every stance, every policy and think ‘Is this good for the people?’. Because if it isn’t, the people will throw them out. At elections, governments are more accountable than ever, and this ability to change who governs a nation is undeniably a fair one, however flawed the electoral system may be. This is the nature of democracy; like capitalism, it utilises the idea of competition to drive up standards. Few would dispute that when genuine democracy exists, it produces governments that are fundamentally fair and legitimate. This leads to executives that must be kept on their toes, that must be continually effective, or else they risk the removal that comes from an electoral defeat. And although democracy in Britain is a given now, it must remain so; indeed, it can and must be improved. Replacing first-past-the-post with a system like the Single Transferable Vote, the further use of referenda, and the general political decentralisation of power can all further democracy, increasing fairness, which in turn maximises the need for governments to do well.Similarly, a fair government is one whose actions can be scrutinised by the general public; the Freedom of Information Act (2000) helped hugely to provide this transparency. In giving the populace the ability to examine, in detail, the laws that affect them, governments continually have to justify their actions, which helps to prevent the build-up of arbitrary power, and ensure the executive acts in the public’s interest. Broadly speaking, a government that is doing everything well should have nothing to hide; the presence of transparency pushes governments to make sure that this is the case for them.

Fairness also underpins that greatest of British institutions, the NHS. The idea that that most basic of rights, health, is extended to everyone regardless of wealth propelled its craftsman, Clement Atlee, into the British mindset as a great Prime Minister, and its privatisation has been a taboo subject since then; even Thatcher dared not touch it. Even in its current fragile state, it is observed enviously by other nations, like the US. It is something that was born of fairness, and just one policy of many where this is the prevalent attitude. Likewise, equality of opportunity -the idea that everything should be open to everyone- opens the playing field in a way that benefits society and the people as a whole. Women high up in politics and business, for example, while once frowned upon, now contribute hugely; diverse boardrooms (and not just diverse in gender terms, but also race, religion, and sexuality) have been proven to lead to more productive, efficient businesses, which benefit employees and the country, through more money from tax. This is fairness in action at its best, and it would be a foolish Prime Minister who attempted to stifle it. A government that can draw society together into a cohesive, egalitarian entity, where everyone is looked out for, is one that has irrefutably done well, and it is for this reason (because what use is a broken, divided nation? Inequality is the greatest threat to stability, as demonstrated by the myriad different Occupy movements) that fair treatment must always be at the heart of government action.

However, while fairness has its boons, much can be said for sacrificing fair conditions for efficiency, and acting pragmatically. Pragmatism was originally presented as an antidote to the ideological zeal that had, for many, tainted the 20th Century. Ironically, however, it seems pragmatism has been adopted as a new ideology; the media often talks of ‘the battle for the centre ground’, and politicians fall over themselves to show they are realists. None more so, perhaps, than Blair, who waved his reformist pragmatism like a flag, which would flutter whichever way the political winds were blowing. A combination of the demonization of the Left that the Cold War had ushered in, Thatcher’s penchant for private property and laissez-faire economics (and their favourable reaction), and the Winter of Discontent that arose from James Callaghan’s socialism had taught Blair that Left Wing politics were dead to the British public. And so, he moved his party to the centre, revoking the traditional Clause IV of Old Labour. This display of pragmatism did much to appease the nation, and was largely responsible for the thirteen years of Labour government that followed. These too were terms that were broadly pragmatic in nature and, up until the Credit Crunch and recession that followed, were arguably mostly good. For example, minor constitutional reform removed the blight of most of the hereditary peers from the House of Lords, and unemployment fell from highs of 8-10% under Thatcher and Major’s Conservatives to a consistent 4-5%.

More pragmatism can be seen in the booming economies of the BRIC countries. Predominantly state capitalist nations, Brazil, Russia, India and China have some of the highest GDPs in the world (China has the second best, and is rapidly gaining on the USA). These are governments that do not have ‘fairness’ at the forefront of their mind; there is no minimum wage, little regulation of working hours (even for children) and, especially as the recent anti-Putin demonstrations in Russia have shown, little concern for true democracy or human rights; these just slow down productivity, and are therefore not efficient or pragmatic. There is no denying that, economically and in terms of production, these are successful governments. But does that make them good ones? What use is a bustling economy if vast swathes of the population never get to reap the benefits? In China, 468 million people live on US$2 a day, with inequality rising as fast as their GDP. If government is meant to serve the people, then the leaders of these ‘super nations’ doing a largely unsuccessful job.

Ultimately, compromise appears to be the key. A government that aims to be completely fair on every single issue is striving for a utopia that cannot really exist, and will ultimately be inefficient; there will not be the growth that comes from competition which is ultimately a result of inequality or unfairness. If this occurs, then it cannot fully meet its goal of effectively serving the people, due to economic stagnation. But then again, neither can a government that aims for cold, ruthless efficiency in everything, riding roughshod over basic living conditions and rights. Fairness and pragmatism are by no means incompatible, and this must be realised and embraced to maximise the benefits. A fair electoral system and a written constitution, as well as the upholding of freedom of speech and information, makes the introduction and maintenance of government fair and ensures that the executive can be held accountable to the people. As has been said, a government that can be held accountable is in itself a fair one, and if it wishes to remain in power it must do its utmost to be a good one. From this position it should aim for fairness in its policies and its actions, making sure it provides equality and opportunity, while combining this attitude with enough pragmatism to provide an effective economy in which people can fully prosper, and a stable society in which they can feel safe, secure, and happy. A government which achieves this, a government which has both fairness and pragmatism at its heart, is one that can truly be described as ‘good’.