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.
Wednesday 24 September 2014
Friday 12 September 2014
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.
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.
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