The party line

Last weekend I went to London Young Labour conference. For the record, I had a fantastic time and met lots of interesting and fun people. Although I've been a member of the Labour Party for almost 6 years (which is vaguely terrifying), I've been almost completely inactive since about November 2010. One of the reasons, which I've now managed to think about more concretely, is that I'm absolutely terrible at politics. 

I'm not necessarily bad at some of the side skills of politics: I've always managed somehow to network fairly well, though I'd normally regard myself as a shy person, I quite enjoy public speaking, and I quite like organising stuff. But this weekend, I realised that I am quite unsuited to finding and retaining a faction. Because, on almost everything, I disagree with someone, and I almost certainly disagree with the people I like on something.

A major feature of politics is conformity. There is the usual kind of conformity that the public hates, the party line. But I think that conformity is a product of another: conformity within parties. It's not the case that everyone in the Labour Party or the Tory Party or whatever believes the same thing. 

But the people of influence in these parties will believe one of two or three or four things. In New Labour, for example, we had Brownites and Blairites (and the unreconstructed Left). Bear in mind the Labour Party had and has thousands of members and hundreds of MPs, each with their own minds. 

And yet, apparently, we could tell everyone's complete political make-up from just one of their opinions. In favour of the Iraq War? Then of course you support bringing religious nutcases in to run schools! We've just seen similar with the things being hurled at Jim Murphy in the Scottish Labour leadership election. He supports Israel; therefore he can't also support the living wage for Scottish workers!

I don't think that in difficult economic times, when there's not much money around, that 'free' higher education is a priority, especially when the current system means no one has to pay upfront. Shoot me. If we raise taxes on the rich, as I want, I would rather use that money to abolish the Bedroom Tax and not throw poor people out of London that bring in 'free' education. Sorry. 

I don't believe, when British workers are struggling with part time work and low pay, that we should get rid of the Border Force as a priority. Apparently the people that I have the most sympathy for in internal Labour Party politics do. But I don't. Does that mean I should be out of the club? 

I hate the idea that I can't have an eclectic set of views - that I have to be labelled left wing or right wing, without any shades of grey - I can't just be a bit left wing on some things and a bit right wing on some other things, a bit 'couldn't care less' on other things, and a bit 'I'll wait for expert evidence' on the last bit of things.

I support higher taxes on the rich: I also support lower corporation tax. Am I right wing or left wing?

I don't believe in 'free education'. I also don't believe in academies or free schools. Am I right wing or left wing?

I didn't support the Iraq War. I did support air strikes on chemical weapons in Syria. Am I right wing or left wing?

I support proportional representation. I also support replacing the Human Rights Act with a British Bill of Rights. Am I right wing or left wing?

I think the EU has too much power. I also think the EU was right to bring in a financial transactions tax. Am I right wing or left wing?

I believe workers need mandatory representation in company decision making. I also think trade unions are dying and it's largely their fault. Am I right wing or left wing?

I don't support Israel. I also don't support Venezuela. Am I right wing or left wing?

I support controlled immigration. I also think arguing that we know the difference between Romanians and Germans is abhorrent. Am I right wing or left wing?

I believe that life should mean life. I also believe we need to use prisons less for minor offences. Am I right wing or left wing?

I believe standing for judicial review should be restricted. I believe cuts to legal aid are wrong. Am I right wing or left wing?

I believe in renewable energy. I also believe in nuclear power and fracking. Am I right wing or left wing?

I believe the railways should be renationalised. I also believe the deficit is a major problem. Am I right wing or left wing?

I think we should abolish Trident. I also think we should have tighter restrictions on EU citizens claiming benefits in the UK. Am I right wing or left wing?

I think we need to support traditional subjects in school. I also support gay marriage. Am I right wing or left wing?

I believe a whole bunch of other random things, and my answer would depend on the time and place and the information I have on the subject. But it shouldn't depend on who is asking. I shouldn't feel I have to answer political questions so that the person I'm taking to can evaluate all of my personal and social positions. Politics should not be about identity: it should be about ideas.

Anyway, to get back to the point, the reason we use these short cuts in politics is the same reason we use them in other walks of life: as a time-saving device. But in politics it's more corrosive than anywhere else. It means that people are encouraged either to say safe things, or say nothing at all. 

It also means that internal elections in the Labour Party are entirely depoliticised. I do think that's a good thing, in that Party office holders should not be pushing their own views. But it does mean that they can't put forward members' views. I am conflicted on this, of course. I want peoples' views to be diverse, but if they are diverse, there can be no agreed position to put forward.

Another reason why I'm bad at politics is because I don't know the answer. I just wish other people admitted that once in a while too.

Muffins and brownies

In September last year, I fell head over heels in love. The object of my affection was brown, gooey and delicious. It was located in Foxcroft and Ginger, a cafe in Berwick Street in Soho, which is quite grim at the best of times and is even more grim now that the whole street has been dug up and surrounded by fences. I highly recommend the place, by the way; it has lovely decor and downstairs some quite comfy seating options. 

My love is a chocolate brownie, or, as it is described by them, a chocolate truffle brownie, whatever that is. I genuinely think that no matter what might go on to happen in my life, this brownie will be the love of my life.

But, curiously enough, I haven't had this brownie all that often. Of course, in October last year, I ran off to Hamburg, but I've been back in London almost three months. If I really loved this brownie, surely I would have had more of them in this time?

Today I went back again to renew my vows, so to speak. And it was as wonderful as ever. But it got me thinking. There are some pleasures you repeat again and again; some pleasures you make routine. Routine has a bad name, but the fact that something is routine doesn't mean it's not incredible every single time you do it.

I can think of two pleasures in my life that to me did become "routine". Both of them are muffins: namely, the blueberry muffins at Caffe Nero and the chocolate muffins at the shitty uni cafe underneath my workplace in Hamburg. As a matter of full disclosure I have had a fling with another brownie, the ones they have at Harris and Hoole, but they sort of fell between the Foxcroft and Ginger brownie and these muffins, so lets just keep the muffin/brownie distinction as a matter of rhetoric.

When I was at Oxford I spent an inordinate number of hours in Caffe Nero, mainly studying but when not studying, digging into these blueberry muffins. I know it's not cool these days to recommend a chain for anything at all, but you really must have one or many of these muffins. They're so soft and yet tough enough that they don't crumble immediately. They are delicious. They don't taste artificial but they don't take purely like fruit: the muffin and the blueberry are perfectly at one.

My Hamburg routine muffin was less perfect but no less addictive. It just have been the fact that after work there's nothing better than just curling up with a coffee and pastry and relaxing. Admittedly the coffee in this place was disgusting, but that didn't stop me going back again and again for the chocolate muffins. Again, the texture was spectacular. There was a time towards the end of my stay in Hamburg when I realised my muffin consumption was getting out of hand, and I stopped for a while, before crawling back to UniPark in shame.

What made the muffins different from the brownies? Of course muffins are normally softer and more palatable than brownies, but this isn't always the case: the Foxcroft brownie is exceptionally soft, while the Hamburg muffin was often on the tough side.

I don't think it's anything innate in the distinction between a muffin and a brownie that means that one became an addiction and the other was reserved for a very rare treat.

I think there must someone out there addicted to brownies. But I don't think it would be because their palate is more suited to brownies than muffins. After all, as I have expressed at length, I really really like brownies. But it must just be the situations in which those brownie addicts consumed them.

The blueberry muffin from the Caffe Nero in Oxford Blackwells represents a bittersweet moment in my life. I was the most focused I'd ever been in my life, studying for my Finals. I was at my most intellectual, and relaxing in the greatest bookshop in the world, and it was great. Everyone goes a little crazy during Finals, but I'm glad I channelled my craziness into some glorious muffins.

The Hamburg muffin has less of a history, which might be why it doesn't haunt me in the same way. But still, in my less occupied moments adjusting to life in a foreign country, it was good to have one thing certain in my life.

Whereas, the Foxcroft and Ginger brownie was most certainly transient; after all, I was about to leave London. It also wasn't my own. I didn't discover it by chance; it was recommended to me. And somehow that also matters. My favourite place right now is a coffee shop called The Attendant in the rather dull area near Great Portland Street, and I think it is my favourite place because I found it and I went there and I discovered how fantastic the coffee was. (The question of coffee is quite separate from the muffin/brownie debate, of course.)

Anyway, I think that the lesson I just want to draw is that you can't judge the quality of anything in isolation. Yeah, I love brownies. But no brownie can exist in isolation. And I think it's the fact that I have had consistently emotionally resonant experiences with muffins that would make me choose a muffin over a brownie any day of the week. Often in life people tell you have to choose between quick pleasures and long term pleasures. But that's not right. I won't stop getting excited by the blueberry muffin at Caffe Nero. It won't stop being incredible (unless they change their recipe or something). Basically, yes, I can have my cake and eat it.

The problem of the undeserving claimant: Sims v Dacorum

When two people rent a house together on a contract that gets renewed every so often (as opposed to a contract that says they're there for a long period of time), they have what's called a joint periodic tenancy. In a 1992 decision ("Monk"), the House of Lords confirmed that if one of the two people wants to leave the house, they can serve a 'notice to quit' on the landlord at whenever the period ends (normally every year, though in the case we're going to consider, every week). 

In a joint tenancy, the two people are seen as one unit. So an action by one of them applies to both of them. This means that even if the other person wants to stay in the house, and even if the other person can continue paying rent, they have to leave if the landlord orders them to leave. In the case of social housing, it might be very rational for the landlord, the local council to tell the remaining person to leave, as they have a duty to house people in appropriate housing and not leave one person living somewhere that can house two people on the waiting list.

The problem is, however, that it's possible for the remaining tenant to be booted out of somewhere they think is their home without having any say themselves. This happened in the Monk case: Mr Monk's girlfriend moved out and served a notice to quit. Mr Monk had no idea she had done this until Hammersmith Council came knocking and told him to leave his house.

Monk was decided before the Human Rights Act came into force. So, in a case that has been working its way up the court system and was decided by the Supreme Court last week, Sims v Dacorum, someone who was being thrown out of his house under the Monk doctrine because his wife left him, a Mr Sims, has done what people do these days and claimed that Dacorum Council was breaching his human rights. He argued that they were breaching his right to respect for his home under Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights and his right to peaceful enjoyment of his possessions under Article 1 of Protocol 1 of the Convention ("A1P1").

The question before the Supreme Court was whether they should use the Human Rights Act to effectively overturn Monk. And you can see how good hearted liberal people like me might be in favour of that: under the doctrine, people can be thrown out of their homes just because their partner walked out on them, and they have no say over it.

The problem is that Mr Sims was not an innocent party. The court found that he had committed acts of domestic violence and his wife, Mrs Sims left him because of that. She only served a notice to quit because she needed to in order to enter a women's refuge. 

Furthermore, from a legal perspective on the facts, Mr Sims clearly had no case. His contract with the council explicitly said that he could be evicted if the situation that came to pass occurred. He therefore had no "possession" that the council were disturbing his right to peaceful enjoyment of. Although they were evicting him from a home he had lived in for several years, another clause of the contract said that they had a duty to consider keeping him there or finding him alternative accommodation, they had given him the opportunity to raise his case, and the court found it was proportionate to evict him (given that council housing resources are limited etc.) and therefore they didn't breach Article 8.

The judgment of Lord Neuberger on behalf of the whole court is beautifully brief and brutal. Given that the case was fairly open and shut, you can tell he sounds exasperated that he had to waste his time on Mr Sims. And he is probably right.

For people like administrative law professors (and me) who wet their pants at every single human rights case, however, the Supreme Court judgment must have been deeply disappointing, in that it did not truly engage with the question of whether Monk conflicts with the European Convention, that is, whether human rights law can effectively overturn the orthodox way of thinking about co-ownership of property.

In the English legal imagination we conceptualise two people renting a flat together as one person, rather than two people renting half the house each. There are very sound reasons for this, namely that both people can occupy all of the house at the same time: we don't need to say one person owns one floor and the other person the other. But that's not really how those people themselves view the situation. They both live in the house, but they don't see themselves as forming one unit living in the house.

The Supreme Court's judgment restates the logical conclusion of the 'joint tenancy' idea, and as an orthodox kind of guy I wholly agree with it on that basis. But the Supreme Court was so caught up in finding the right legal solution that they did not think that the law should be rethought. The facts of the case meant they didn't need to, but that is why it is the facts of the case that are the most regrettable thing about it.

The Court reiterated an opinion they had expressed in a 2010 case, Pinnock: if a council is thinking of evicting someone, they have to make sure they are acting proportionately with the person's right to a home (although in Pinnock itself the Court accepted the council's case for eviction). But the problem in the Monk situation is that you can argue that a council shouldn't necessarily be thinking about evicting people just because their partner walked out on them. Of course they then have to apply proportionality. But it is certainly arguable that the question shouldn't arise in the first place. 

Mr Sims actually dropped this line of argument in the Supreme Court (in the Court of Appeal he said Monk should be overruled): he said the application of the rule was wrong, not the rule itself. But the application of the rule was clearly right in his case. It is the rule that is more dubious.

This whole situation very clearly highlights a fairly problematic flaw in the common law system: rules only change when the right case comes along to change them. We could hardly expect the Court of Appeal and the Supreme Court to look kindly on the case of a man who forced his wife and two of his kids out of his house and lost his tenancy only because his wife couldn't otherwise enter a women's refuge. 

But having decided this case, how much longer will it take for a deserving or an arguable case to come along for the Supreme Court to reconsider the rule in Monk? How many more evictions have to take place? Certainly, the evisceration of legal aid will make it much harder even to test the proportionality of these council decisions in court, let alone get rid of the councils' prima facie powers.

I wholly understand the principle behind the joint tenancy idea, and I wholly agree that the logical legal consequence of it is the rule in Monk. Lawyers have to work according to the logic of the law and not its practical consequences, even if in some situations this means pain for some people.

However, the whole point of the human rights 'industry', even if I might feel uncomfortable about it, is to be able to change laws that have bad effects. But it only works if you have deserving claimants who can bring cases. It is sad that the number of people able to bring cases is declining. It is sad that Mr Sims had to fight the bad fight against the decision in Monk. It is of course sad that Parliament is not figuring out a way to sort out situations like this, at least in a less brutal way.

I make no particular proposals for reform since I am fairly unsure how it might be sorted out. It might even be the case that most people this affects are not affected too seriously, and therefore there should be no reform.

But Sims v Dacorum shows us that to achieve reform through the common law courts, the broad mass of 'victims' have to get lucky with who they get to represent them. It is very unclear that this itself is fair. But it is extremely unfair that in this situation, the 'victims' of the rule in Monk had a man like Mr Sims as their champion.

Why I supported Ed Miliband

The summer of 2010 seems like a lifetime ago. It seems like a different world, almost. There have been so many ups and downs since then and I am a completely different person. As a young person you spend so much time looking to the future that on the rare occasions you look back it's a shock at how much has happened.

The summer of 2010 did not feel, at the time, like a great time to be a member of the Labour Party. Obviously political rivalries and arguments don't matter. The really important things in life are things that even politics touch only tangentially: love, family, adventures. But it really did feel that to be a member of the Labour Party at that time you had to decide, and the question was vital. Were you on one side or the other? Were you with David or with Ed?

Although David Miliband would have been a massive disappointment to his supporters on the right wing of the Labour Party, the fact was that he had the support of those people who believed what, in my mind, was a totally mad idea. That the Labour Party lost the 2010 election because Gordon Brown abandoned Blairism, didn't hand over our public services to enough private providers, and refused to hike VAT or agree with Tory spending plans.

The Labour Party lost the 2010 election for many reasons. The recession. The fact that even before the recession, living standards had been flatlining for years. Gordon Brown as a leader. The fact that winning four terms in a row is incredibly rare in this country and the wider democratic world. 

We also lost votes because of immigration and welfare, but it is worth noting that Labour policies on those matters had broad continuity between Blair and Brown: in terms of actual policy, Brown was even probably  'tougher' on those things.

Anyway, we lost votes for a number of reasons. But there is no way that we lost because there weren't enough academies in the country. 

But that was what these people believed in. David Miliband didn't believe in all of it, but with him in charge, they would be in charge. And although of course Labour could have won under David Miliband, I seriously doubted it.

However, the reason I doubted it wasn't really to do with policy. How many people vote on detailed policy? No matter what we said or did, the broad mass of British people would still believe the Labour Party was softer on immigration and worse for the economy than the Tory Party. Those are the stereotypes that have stuck, even through Blair. The other thing they would consistently think is that we were part of the Westminster establishment that spunked their money on bird houses and moats.

The only small thing we could do to tackle this was to have someone as leader who would look different and sound different and be different. And David Miliband looked like a dweeb, sounded like a dweeb and was a dweeb. He was a career politician who talked like politics was a PPE seminar. He didn't look like he understood ordinary people and he didn't look like a confident leader. He would probably use phrases like 'a tsunami of craperoo' Sound familiar?

In the summer of 2010 there were two things I wanted from the leadership contest: to stop the supporters of David Miliband driving Labour into the wilderness (see for example the German SPD for how low the Third Way can really take a party) and to have a leader who felt vaguely normal.

The tragedy of 2010 was that very quickly these two objectives were made incompatible. Somehow we let the media or the unions or MPs trick us into thinking that we could only choose between two brothers. Two brothers! In the party of progress and equality! And while my brother and I look and sound and are pretty different, Ed and David Miliband are basically clones. Yes, Ed ran what apparently passes for a 'left wing' campaign in our narrow political landscape, but again, what matters in a leader isn't so much policy as whether they can be the ambassador for whatever policy the convoluted policy making process of the party churns out. Whether they can turn prose into poetry and back again.

I thought the best of a not great bunch in 2010 was Andy Burnham: although he could have appeared lightweight, he looked and sounded and, despite being a former SPAD, was a vaguely normal person. For what it's worth, with his 'aspirational socialism' he actually had some interesting ideas about how to learn the lessons of both 'old' and 'new' Labour.

But he was quickly sidelined, and we had these brothers to choose from. And therefore I had to choose Ed. Although I wasn't anywhere near as heavily involved as some people, I spent many hours and days campaigning for him. Because the one thing that I contemplated with horror was David Miliband as leader, I campaigned as often and as hard as my schedule would allow.

I loved the Ed Miliband campaign and the summer of 2010, because of the brilliant people I met, the way it was an underdog, grassroots campaign that was slowly gaining momentum, and because it had real passion. And Ed really did motivate us. It sounds incredible now, but when he spoke he spoke human, and he inspired us. I forgot the misgivings I had when I had seen him on TV before, and became a true Mili-believer. I was overjoyed when he won and I thought his first conference speech was great and I rather randomly hugged him at some point during the conference.

Just like Gordon Brown, I genuinely think if Ed Miliband spoke to every voter in the country, he would win in a landslide. 

I don't think there's anything particularly wrong with Labour's current policy platform: we want to do lots of nice things that will improve people's lives in lots of small ways. It's not especially inspiring, but politics can't really be. There are some potentially transformational things in there if everything goes well, but the idea it is some extreme left wing agenda is lunacy. So too is the idea that Ed Miliband doesn't understand aspiration or the lower middle class or whatever. He understands them, he just can't inspire them.

The genius of Tony Blair was to make a rather modest platform sound like a new dawn for Britain. 

People are more cynical after the crash and I doubt any Labour politicians four years out of government could inspire people in the same way.

But dear God, how have we sunk so low? How is Nigel Farage the most inspiring politician in Britain today? It's not like UKIP supporters are out of bounds to us: some polls suggest they believe some fairly left wing things in addition to the whole anti-immigrant thing. But he talks like a real person. There are no easy solutions, and a majoritarian party knows that, but I can't put Labour's message into a snappy soundbite. Vote Labour to raise the minimum wage to £8 by 2020?? What??

The Labour Party has so many good people in it, in touch with their communities, feeding that back to the leadership. We've had four years, it's time to harden that work into a proper platform. I don't care what it is, I just want to be able to say it. I don't want the Labour Party to go left or go right, I just want this ridiculous government out.

I think Ed Miliband will be prime minister. I just can't see where the Tory votes might come from. Are the Tories really going to hold on to all those seats where Lord Ashcroft's polls put them behind? How? Are we going to somehow get Cameron-mania? It's not as if Cameron is Britain's most popular man. The niggling doubts Labour MPs and members are feeling come from the feeling that the majority of British people seem to feel that this man Ed Miliband can't possibly be prime minister. But I just have no idea how he won't be. In a coalition, with a derisory share of the vote, behind the Tories, maybe. And that's something we should be ashamed of. But not PM? No way.

Ed Miliband is a good man. I hope he becomes a great prime minister. But I am so so sad that British politics has come to this and that I played a tiny role in making it happen. I don't think changing leader would cost us the election: it would probably get us the majority that we need to really change things.

More importantly, if we got someone good, we might just be able to put the brakes on the horrific levels of cynicism in British politics existing now and the tidal wave coming when Ed Miliband's minority government carries on cutting public services.

But that's the problem: who is good? The good people we have are either unwilling or divisive.

Sometimes you have to admit you got things wrong. I'm not sorry I helped stop David Miliband. But I feel sad it has come to this. I'm sorry I supported Ed Miliband. I'm sorry we ended up at the point where our only choice was between these people. I'm sorry we have a party dominated by career politicians and insiders.

I just hope we can learn the lessons from this strange period in the Labour Party's history. And they aren't (depending on your taste) 'don't pander to the base' or 'don't be too cautious'. The lesson is 'just try, please, for the love of God, to be normal.'

How I learned to stop worrying and love proportional representation

I believe in the two party system. I believe that in politics we can normally boil everything down to one of two choices. Obviously there are all sorts of nuances in what each person thinks about all the possible political issues that might exist, but broadly speaking you come into politics for one of two reasons: either because you see your first payslip and are shocked that you have to pay taxes and the government is ripping you off, or because you see your first payslip and are shocked at how much your boss is ripping you off. As such, we can broadly agree that the political right want to cut taxes and the political left want to redistribute wealth. It's as simple as that. 

I am on the left because I realise that nothing I have ever achieved or will achieve in life is a result of my effort alone, and I have always and will always rely on other people, and importantly the state, in getting to where I am today.

Therefore I support the party of the left. In Britain, the Labour Party.

The problem is that I am in a tiny minority in thinking the way I do.

I will support the Labour Party no matter what it does. After all, socialism is what a Labour Government does. 

But most people aren't like me. Most people want the Government to do exactly what they want them to do. They are upset if a government of the left doesn't redistribute as much as they'd like, or that a government of the right doesn't cut taxes as much as they'd like. They don't understand that governments are actually quite limited as to what they can do without crashing the economy and/or the public finances. 

At a more fundamental level, they don't understand that a democratic government can't in any case pull too far one way or another, because it has to take into account the majority of the people. The unfortunate thing is that there is no majority of the people that is in one mind about all the issues simultaneously.

Democratic governments will always disappoint people. And because people on the left tend to be more optimistic, governments of the left tend to disappoint more than governments of the right.

There will therefore always be a broad group of people who, disillusioned by the compromises of government, recoil from mainstream parties of left and right.

They convince themselves that there is a better, purer way. That the two major parties have colluded amongst themselves and the only possible way out is to vote for third, fourth and fifth parties. 

They are wrong. As Liberal Democrat voters in this country have seen, there is no way to avoid the tough choices of government when your turn comes to make them. Yes, the Lib Dems have acted appallingly. They ran on a left wing economic platform and governed on a right wing economic platform.

That shows, of course, that if voters wanted the left wing economic platform, they should have voted for the left of centre party, rather than a rubbish bin party.

Opponents of the two party system criticise its supporters for this line of argument. Why shouldn't people vote according to their heart's desires? And this ties in with criticism of the UK voting system, which forces people into 'tactical voting'. But there are two points to raise here. 

The first is that in the 2010 election there really were two options on economic policy: that represented by the Tories, and that represented by Labour and the Liberal Democrats, which has very similar economic plans (even if our manifestos differed radically in other respects).

The second is that this binary choice manifests itself in proportional systems as well. Sweden has had 7 major parties in the recent past, but they have divided into a 'left camp' and a 'right camp' and the voters know which is which. (Of course, now the Swedes have their own rubbish bin party, the Sweden Democrats, who may damage that system, or, as is more likely, be assimilated into the 'right camp' as the vaguely similar Norwegian Progress Party have.)

No democratic system or politicians can shy away from the big choices. The German Left Party has put forward hundreds of policies safe in the knowledge that they will never be in government to find out their consequences, because they refuse to cooperate with other parties. And millions of people still vote for them! I'm sorry, but when I vote, I vote because I hope to get some of the things I want enacted.

Having said all of the above, I repeat that I am in a tiny minority. In our individualistic age, we demand to get what we want all the time. So if people want to vote for a party supporting a £10 minimum wage, but they only get a party supporting an £8 minimum wage, they feel aggrieved. If they want to vote for a party supporting an immediate referendum on the EU, but they only get one supporting a referendum in 2017, they feel outraged.

I am outraged that they are outraged but my opinion doesn't matter. And I realise that, unlike them.

This is all leading to one conclusion: we need proportional representation in Britain. We need the same thing to happen to UKIP and the Greens as has happened to the Lib Dems (not entirely sure we can do anything about the nationalists, no matter what happens they will blame all problems on Westminster). When it's UKIP that are actually carrying out their policy of cutting taxes for the rich and cutting services for everyone else, as opposed to being a blank canvas which idiots can project whatever they want onto, let's see how long the 'people's army' last.

There are ways and means of implementing proportional representation: I would personally prefer small districts rather than large districts. In any case, if the Green Party get 6% and just one seat, there's no chance that they will have to join government and wake up from their fantasy world, but if they get 6% and 40 seats, there's a quite high chance of reality coming and hitting them in the face like a wet fracking fish. Of course, like the German Left, they might shrink away from that responsibility, but in that case they should lose their right to complain.

In 1999, the Austrian Freedom Party, a classic rubbish bin party, got 27% of the vote and had to enter government. In the next election, in 2002, they went down to 10%. Government kills rubbish bin parties. Since 2006, however, Austria has been governed by a grand coalition between the main parties of left and right, which represents the death of politics, and by 2013 the Freedom Party were back up to 21%. If we deny left/right politics, we open the door to increased disaffection and ultimately, nastiness.

I want politics to be realistic because I believe in politics. Without politics and politicians, to take just one example, we wouldn't have the NHS. We would still be living in a world where children are living in slums and working in factories. If ordinary people lose faith in politics, it opens the door for the rich and powerful to keep control of the government. But ordinary people need to live in the land of the possible, and ultimately I think forcing rubbish bin and fantasy parties to take responsibility is better for politics and better for society.

The only way we can do that in Britain is by introducing proportional representation. The two party system is dying under first past the post. Only PR can save it.

Why I support the monarchy

This is a bit of a delayed reaction, but I was shocked and appalled by the coverage of royal baby number 2 the other week, especially when there were massively more important national and international issues to cover. I was particularly outraged about our leading politicians gushing on social media about the fact that an entirely irrelevant baby (at least as irrelevant as anyone else) was in the process of gestating.

It's times like that that make me feel like I should be a republican. I am totally unable to participate in the royal lovefest that exists in this country. Furthermore, I would regard myself as a socialist and an egalitarian, so the idea that money, power and respect should, as a matter of the constitution, go to one unremarkable family ought to disgust and appal me.

But as with so many things, what my heart says is not what my head says. And I think that's the same for most people. I believe in logic, but I'm also a hypocrite.

I should say at this point that it's my heart that is repelled by the monarchy and my head that supports it, rather than, as it probably is for the majority of British people, the other way round.

The monarchy is fundamentally irrational, so it seems wrong to have a rational argument for it. But people are fundamentally irrational, so. 

Why do we even need a head of state in the first place? Even parliamentary republics like Germany or Ireland find room in their system of government for some old hack politician to go round cutting ribbons and stuff. Why?

I don't know the answer to that: maybe we need the sense of a national, unifying figure, someone that everyone can be proud of and inspired by, which active politicians generally can't do.

The first reason I support the monarchy rather than a ceremonial president is that the monarch can truly be that person. The Queen has no politics. She never has had, from the moment she was born. The Queen is not even interesting: she is a blank canvas. If we feel proud of the Queen, it is like feeling proud of a Barbie doll: because we can pretend she's more than a piece of plastic. (Not to insult what I am sure is a lovely old lady).

But that's not the main reason I support the monarchy. I support the monarchy because it reminds me of the totally random and illogical way of the world. I support the monarchy, ironically, because of my anarchic streak. This is not the way a rational person would order things. In a rational country, David Cameron and Ed Miliband (or their press teams) would not take a second away from urgent matters of state or whatever they do to deal with an unremarkable though undeniably beautiful lady's pregnancy.

But we don't live in a rational country, populated by desiccated counting machines, and thank God for that! 

(I'm an atheist but that's for another day)

I support the monarchy because it reminds us how messed up the world is. It means that we don't need for fall for the illusion that everything we do is based on our effort and that the people in charge deserve their power and money.

Some republicans say that the monarchy promotes hierarchy and deference. But we have hierarchy and deference anyway! Any system with bosses promotes hierarchy and deference. But in a 'meritocracy' we defer to people on their apparent talent, whereas in a monarchy we know that the deference we show is based on nothing at all. As long as we don't take the monarchy seriously, it provides us with a daily reminder that in our society, brute luck rules the roost.

Now, you can argue 'full socialism now', and that's a separate argument. But in our society, right now, I think that kind of reminder of unfairness is good. Plus people sell mugs with very strange and inaccurate pictures of Prince Harry, and that helps the economy.

The problem in Britain is that we take the monarchy too seriously. At times like royal baby number 2 (Royal Baby: The Revenge), we run the risk of crossing the line to actually respecting the royal family, actually caring what they say and do, and actually developing the inferiority complex that would make us the distracted sheep that republicans argue the monarchy makes us.

I don't deny that the monarchy serves as a distraction, but so do all celebrities. The monarchy as an institution is still I believe the good kind of distracting.

What are generally acknowledged to be the most egalitarian and progressive societies in the world (the Netherlands, Sweden, etc.) are monarchies. If monarchy was so detrimental to the human spirit and to equality, then how is that possible? The cradle of modern republicanism, the United States, is hardly the most equal place in the world.

Of course, there are plenty of egalitarian republics. And the UK is incredibly unequal, which would seem to blow a hole in my argument. 

But here I come full circle. We take the monarchy too seriously. And that, I think, does contribute to our inequality.

But taken in the manner in which it should be, I think the monarchy is wonderful. I think it is delightfully silly, and the more silliness we have in the world the better, and I think, if the silliness is appreciate, it can, and who knows if this is utopian, but it can get rid of our illusions about how meritocratic capitalist society is. So, despite the best efforts of Karl Marx and Hello! magazine, I support the monarchy.

Relationships

In the fairly recent past, a few friends of mine broke up with their significant others. What surprised me was how quickly they moved on and found new partners. In these specific contexts, they were the dumpers and not the dumpees, which I guess explains things somewhat, but I've long been fairly surprised with how quickly people seem to move on: in one of my absolute favourite TV shows, Dinner Date, a lot (though not all) of the participants seem to have been single for 6 or 7 months or whatever. Every time I see that, I think to myself: what mad need do you people have for a relationship that you'd rather embarrass yourself with your terrible cooking on TV than just be single for a while?

But then, of course, I realise, being single by choice and staying single by choice is harder than it looks. (Plenty of people are single not by choice, obviously). When you meet someone you click with, who seems to have a mountain of things in common with you, who you can talk to at a thousand miles per hour and not feel embarrassed, and you get that slow but brilliant realisation that actually this might be someone you can spend a hell of a lot of time with and more, it's hard to give that up. Of course, plenty of 'spark' moments fizzle out, and you really need something else, like shared interests, to maintain reasons to be together. (Until the best thing ever happens, and you just need each other's company, and not even blather, to have fun together).

But I believe in the spark. Sometimes, even most of the time, you just know. And that's why you can't just choose the single life. At least, I've never been able to. And I can't condemn people who can't stay single for long. That's not really an explanation of Dinner Date or dating shows in general or dating apps, because those people clearly aren't single by choice. But to come full circle, it means that I believe that worrying about this stuff really doesn't make any sense. The odds are always in your favour. Most people have been around the block at least once. If by some madness it doesn't happen again, you have the memories at least. There are things you've seen and done before and you'll probably see them and do them again, and if not, meh.

Another thing that confuses me is how quickly you become immersed in a relationship. It's almost an accident: you go from being strangers with each other to being a 'we' in no time at all. It's always interesting to see how other people react to that: they start talking about 'you and X' like that's been a phrase they've used for years and years. And those people who thought of you as a single person have to radically adjust their interactions with you accordingly.

I think that's a good thing, but people sometimes forget it. The person you've made a fixture in your life is a tiny number of steps from being a stranger. And, as a matter of fact, they're actually a tiny number of steps away from becoming a stranger once more. Another thing that astonishes onlookers is how they move from thinking every minute of every day (when they think of you) 'that's X, he has a girlfriend' or 'I'm doing something with Y, I assume her boyfriend will be coming too' to just 'hi again'. And the cycle starts again: one moment you're in a relationship, the next you're single and the next you're in a relationship again. And then 'aww aren't you a cute couple?' can start up again. 

I don't really have a place to conclude, and at that point one can start rambling. I'm just trying to remind people that we should always remember the transience of our relationships. There's no point in carrying on just because you define yourself as being in a relationship. The only thing that really matters is that the spark stays alive. As long as you're having adventures together, stay together. But there's no point being sad if the adventures end. 

I know as much as anyone how much this stuff is completely involuntary, but the new discoveries that happen every time you get those surprising butterflies in your stomach are well worth waiting for, even as you struggle through the sleepless nights and the worrying on the way. This all might sound horrifically unromantic, but I can't see how clinging on to past glories counts either. There will always be those people who get away, but whether it was for an hour or a year or a decade, you were happy, and that sounds good to me.

Thoughts on Scottish independence and bad governments

A definition of the legitimate democratic state which I think might be useful is the following: the legitimate democratic state is the biggest unit in which the people can accept the legitimacy of the government making bad decisions.

For what it's worth, I despise this Tory government and all its works: more than its policies, I hate the way it tries to play on the idea of an underclass and the policies it promotes on that basis, such as the welfare cap and the bedroom tax, which serve no real purpose other than to stir up support for the government.

But, I accept that the government was democratically elected, even though I did not vote for it, and I accept its right to enact all these horrible policies.

Why do I accept this government's legitimacy, even as I deny completely the correctness of its policies?

Because I am British.

Four years ago, a large proportion of those people entitled to vote did vote. A large-ish proportion of those people voted for the Conservative Party, 421855 of them in Scotland. A further proportion of them voted for the Lib Dems, tragically, including 465471 Scots. Leaving aside the fact that our electoral system is disproportionate, the government we have now is a democratically elected one. The government is supported by a majority of the House of Commons (and, for the first time in a long time, the parties comprising it were voted for by a majority of the voting public). So I have to accept it.

Would I accept this government, if, instead of an English prime minister, we ended up with, for example, a German prime minister? (Assuming that the UK and Germany voted for a common democratic parliament, etc.)

No. As much as I love Germany, its culture, its people, its way of life, and its political system, I am not German. I am not a member of the German demos. As such, I do not feel that, on a political or democratic level, decisions made by Germans should apply to me, at least when I am not living in Germany.

Would I accept the government making decisions I disagree with uniformly if it was led by a Scottish prime minister?

Of course, without any hesitation.

This is because Scotland is not a foreign country. Scotland is part of my country, the United Kingdom. My demos includes Scotland and the Scottish people.

If Scotland was terrifyingly right wing, and a terrifyingly right wing government led by a Scot depended on Scottish votes to survive, I would grumble. I would protest. I would agitate and educate. But I would not decry the government on the basis of its Scottish leadership and support base: I would decry it on the basis that it was terrifyingly right wing.

Because I am British. Britain is my country. England is the part of the country where I happen to live.

In fact, again for what it's worth, England is not really the part of the country where I live. I live in London, a global, multicultural city vastly different from huge swathes of England. The differences inside England are mind-boggling. Newcastle has so much more in common with Glasgow than it does with Chipping Norton. (for that matter, Glasgow probably has much more in common with Newcastle than it does with Aberfeldy)

The reason I am annoyed about the Scottish independence referendum is that the Yes side, and particularly its left-wing supporters, fail to say that what they are actually promoting is old fashioned blood and soil nationalism.

Yes, an independent Scotland could be a socialist paradise. Though, given that we live in the real world, probably not.

But that's missing the point quite spectacularly.

The question that the people of Scotland have to answer is not whether Edinburgh or London can better protect the NHS, or Scottish pensions, or create better tax rates. The decision to make in relation to economic policy is not between Edinburgh or London; it is between Labour or Tory, or for those fed up with the two party system, any number of minor parties.

The question that the people of Scotland have to answer is 'do they accept the legitimacy of English politicians to make criminally bad decisions affecting them?' (accepting the limitations on the power to do so legitimately created by devolution). For me, the reverse question is a no brainer: of course I accept the legitimacy of Scottish politicians to screw up my life. Clearly for a large proportion of Scots, the answer is no. That makes me sad, but there it is.

But the Yes campaign has to be honest. This is a question about whether Scottish people feel politically only Scottish, or whether they feel politically Scottish and British. Whether they accept English (and Welsh and Northern Irish) people as part of their demos. When supporters of the Yes campaign talk about 'we', their 'we' includes only the Scots. My 'we' includes the Scots. The Scots do not constitute, at least in a political sense, a separate 'we'. (Even if, quite clearly, they are a geographically, culturally and historically separate 'we')

Phrasing the question in that way may not have been fruitful for the No campaign, given that a large majority of Scots clearly do think of themselves as a separate 'we' in the political sense. But it is the choice at hand. The question as put to Scots in this campaign has been: how can 'we' get the best deal for 'us'? For the No campaign, the Union is only a means to an end: security, job opportunities, and so on.

But that is not the question. Neither is 'should we have more left wing government', which is in any case not guaranteed in an independent Scotland which 60 years ago voted Tory with an absolute majority and may again in 60 years time. To the disappointment of non-democratic socialists, politics changes -you can't rely on the right wing never getting in again, in this country or in any country.

A constant refrain from the Yes campaign is that Scotland didn't get a government it voted for (during the 80s and now). Although that somewhat ignores the 916155 Scots who voted for Thatcher in 1979 and the 751950 Scots who voted for Major in 1992, not to mention the 887326 Scots who voted for the coalition parties four years ago, it's a fair point. But that is democracy. The North East didn't get a government it voted for either. Neither did my bedroom.

A riposte might be 'you, as an English person, did get the government the English people voted for.' Yes, it is true that English people outnumber Scottish people. We are more likely to get a UK government the plurality (though nowhere near an absolute majority) of English people vote for than Scottish people.

We are also more likely to get a government that the people who live outside London vote for rather than one voted for by those who live inside it. As someone who lives in London, this makes me sad: certainly UKIP might be less likely to do well if only Londoners could vote.

Phrased the way I've put it, the Yes campaign might win by a landslide: most Scots feel more Scottish than British. (It is worth noting, however, that the majority of No voters in the latest ICM poll said that that they were voting No due to attachment to the wider UK).

But it is the fundamentally honest position. I am a (North) Londoner, a Southerner, an Englishman. And I willingly submit myself to the lunacies dreamed up by people from Croydon (though with some reservations), the Oxfordshire countryside, Birmingham, Leeds and, yes, Fife.

The Scottish people are essentially deciding whether they want to possibly be subject to whatever craziness I come up with, because I too am from the United Kingdom. Because I believe in this small island on the edge of Europe staying united, I hope they do. But let's please be honest that that is the choice.