Top Gun…

Very tediously, the US state department accused the Russians of selling attack helicopters to Syria. Obviously, it's revolting that any country should be helping that regime kill its civilians.

But let's not think for a second that Hillary Clinton has suddenly become some kind of peacenik. This isn't about principle: it's about realpolitik and tactics. It's a sales dispute. Let's just have a look at the countries to which the UK sells arms in the area.

This is the 2011 report. It involves £500m sales to Iran. £200m to Saudia Arabia (which used UK military equipment to help the Bahrainis to crush the democracy movement), £70m to Israel, which ruthlessly crushes dissent in the occupied territories, lots to the previous dictatorships in Egypt, ammunition to the Syrian regime, and lots of other sales to the whole panoply of vicious dictatorships which sell us oil.

Talking of Bahrain, I wonder why the US had nothing to say about 70% of its population being denied any kind of political or economic freedom. Oh yes, it's because it's the main port for the US Navy fleet in the area. Which is why the US is still selling the regime weapons.

Like the UK, the US sells (and often just gives) weaponry to all these deeply unpleasant states. It's partly to keep the oil flowing. It's partly Keynesian economics: even US-funded weapons keep Americans in employment. It's also an economic trade-off which makes the flow of oil money to the East look slightly less imbalanced, and it's to some extent a trade-off for persuading these countries not to invade Israel… another recipient of American military largesse. The economic case is becoming more and more important, as these arms lobbyists and analysts demonstrate:

"US defence companies are definitely looking overseas as a market opportunity that may offset some of the reductions in the US military budget that almost everybody expects to be coming down the pipe. The supply is there coming from the companies, but that doesn't change the fact that there is also demand."
Brian Finlay, the director of the Managing Across Boundaries programme at the Stimson Centre in Washington, noted that US defence companies had formed a powerful lobby that has risen in prominence during the economic downturn.
"We're seeing arms producers across the country, and interests across the country really coalescing to form a pretty significant lobbying bloc, and to complete the perfect storm this is also happening at a time of fiscal restraint and a wider economic downturn here in the United States."
"Jobs are pretty hard to come by, and jobs that are available in these industries pay pretty well. They're good jobs. It makes it even a more potent political issue for the administration."

When nobody's buying cars, sporting goods or whatever else keeps an economy afloat, death's the only expanding market. There's always demand for things with which to kill people, and if demand does drop, you can always stoke up a little regional tension. Look at Greece, a country with no enemies but a vicious rivalry with Turkey, and spend over 4% of its budget on weaponry, the highest percentage in Europe. If they stop spending, you can expect Labour, Tory and Lib Dem MPs with military factories in their constituencies to start begging for Greece to be bailed out. Peace is very bad for the economy.

Arabs: our country needs YOU to go out and die for our marginal constituencies.

Everyone's a winner. Yay for democracy. When convenient.

Won't somebody rid me of this troublesome MP?

Well, Paul Uppal's back from his extended holiday from his responsibilities. Sadly, he's far from refreshed. Once again, he's hawking jaded and predictable talking points around like a child who's learned to use a potty.

Some years ago, a prominent immigration lawyer told me that the two main drivers of immigration are, first, the perception—right or wrong—that we have an overtly generous welfare system in the UK; and secondly, lax human rights legislation. Does my right hon. Friend agree that in this statement and through our welfare reforms, we are tackling those issues head-on?
The shadow Home Secretary talked about a bond. Does my right hon. Friend not find that ironic and perhaps politically opportunistic, given that, when in power, Labour considered such a measure but chose to put it to one side, but in opposition they sing a different tune?

Oh dear. I've suddenly got Morrissey's 'Asian Rut' song going round my head. It's not pleasant. Why Morrissey? Because like Uppal, Morrissey's the son of immigrants who has somehow managed to find common cause with fascists like the BNP and their Conservative fellow-travellers. There's something utterly sickening about a man casually raising suspicion of immigrants for political advantage in general - but doing so after having been the beneficiary of a humane immigration policy.

Let's note in passing that Uppal always has a useful source to quote - a constituent who uses Parliamentary language to express opinions identical to Uppal's, for instance. Very convenient.

I like the 'right or wrong' bit (and for the sake of kindness, let's assume the 'overtly' is a transcription error rather than one of vocabulary). It makes him look impartial, when we all know very well that he means 'wrong'. For information, here's what refugees are entitled to:

• Almost all asylum seekers are not allowed to work and are forced to rely on state support – this can be as little as £5 a day to live on.

• Asylum seekers do not jump the queue for council housing and they cannot choose where they live.
 The accommodation allocated to them is not paid for by the local council. It is nearly always ‘hard to let’ properties, where other people do not want to live.

And here's what immigrants (non-EU ones have to prove they've got a large chunk of cash before they arrive) may claim:

anyone who does not have ILR (Indefinite Leave to Remain)or British citizenship will have "no recourse to public funds" marked in their passports; this includes visitors, people on spouse visas, students, work visa holders, etc. However, once someone has ILR they have the same entitlements as British citizens in the same circumstances, they can access JSA, Housing Benefit, go on the council waiting list, etc.

OK? Not exactly the land of milk and honey.

Moving on. What exactly is a 'lax' human right? Is it Britain's recognition that all humans have the right to life, safety and a family? Which rights, exactly, would he like to withdraw? Shelter from torture? From all of us? Or just the vulnerable? Does he want to withdraw his own parents' human rights? Or just some nebulous 'others'?

I'd have thought that the 'main drivers' of immigration to the UK are exactly the same reasons which brought his parents here. The British Empire (I notice Uppal and his friends never condemn that violent and unwelcome mass movement of people to other peoples' countries) spread English round the globe and sucked in the labour and goods of its constituent nations. When it withdrew, people like Paul's parents found themselves a long way from their national origins and were naturally drawn to the colonial power because it was rich. Personally, I think the UK should be paying reparations to the countries it looted, and abandoned without industry, economies and democratic government.

I'm sorry to be so personal, but I've got to, provoked by Paul's cynicism. He make no distinction between refugees and economic migrants - but nor would I wish to. My family is partly made up of economic immigrants from Ireland. Given what the UK did to Ireland and other countries, you could argue that we're owed something. More importantly, migrants contribute hugely to the economy - Paul's made millions and I'll presume - for the sake of argument - that he pays tax. Without migration, Paul wouldn't be here (I'll resist the obvious point).

What the Tories want to do is impose a massive cash bond on immigrants. The idea is that we keep out the poor. I think this is sickening. Many of the most innovative and creative contributors to society have been dirt poor, and worked their way up. Would Paul's parents have got in if they'd had to find £19,000?

Even more so than usual, I find Uppal's behaviour sickening and cynical. To pull up the ladder behind him in pursuit of BNP votes is his lowest point yet. I hope his constituents - many of them poor, hardworking Asians - agree with me.

The dew has again fallen with a particularly sickening thud…

Morning everybody! How are you all?

This is me being empathetic and emotionally warm? Is it working? I ask only because I've got another session with the 'consultant' who's actually an occupational psychologist, and she asked me to do an online personality test. Despite my reservations about 'positive psychology' (oddly, a subject discussed on radio 4 this morning), I filled in the 240 questions as honestly as possible.

The report, however, has severely damaged my natural optimism. It gives you 24 ranked strengths, but looking closely, the analysis is deeply flawed. For instance, the last one is this:

Spirituality, sense of purpose, and faith 

You have strong and coherent beliefs about the higher purpose and meaning of the universe. You know where you fit in the larger scheme. Your beliefs shape your actions and are a source of comfort to you.

Which is odd because the questionnaire asks several questions about religion and 'beliefs' but none about ideology or politics. Let's be clear about my beliefs. I believe in the general description of quantum physics, and in entropy. I do not believe in any 'higher purpose' or 'meaning' to the universe (other than '42'). I believe that we are individually performing a microscopic version of the eventual entropic universe death. We shuffle towards the grave and anything we do in-between birth and death is merely displacement activity. I've chosen to read a lot and to attempt to meliorate the world's misery through politics. And blogging. In some tiny way, I hope to make life more bearable and pleasant for others, but I'm well aware that any contribution is minuscule.

OK. Next 'strength':

Hope, optimism, and future-mindednessYou expect the best in the future, and you work to achieve it. You believe that the future is something that you can control.

No. All of that is entirely wrong. Next!

Creativity, ingenuity, and originalityThinking of new ways to do things is a crucial part of who you are. You are never content with doing something the conventional way if a better way is possible.

Christ no. That scoffing sound you hear is everyone I've ever met, laughing at whoever constructed this questionnaire. What's coming next?

Industry, diligence, and perseveranceYou work hard to finish what you start. No matter the project, you "get it out the door" in timely fashion. You do not get distracted when you work, and you take satisfaction in completing tasks.

Zest, enthusiasm, and energyRegardless of what you do, you approach it with excitement and energy. You never do anything halfway or halfheartedly. For you, life is an adventure.

Oh dear me no. I'm nervous and often transfixed by anxiety like a lazy rabbit in the headlights.

And then the rest reveals a complete methodological failure: the responses tell me how other people perceive me, and how I am … based on my answers. This is of course utter nonsense: what the questions elicit is my perception of what other people think, and a view of how I perceive myself, not what this mythical 'I' actually is like.

Perspective (wisdom)

Although you may not think of yourself as wise, your friends hold this view of you. They value your perspective on matters and turn to you for advice. You have a way of looking at the world that makes sense to others and to yourself.

Bravery and valor You are a courageous person who does not shrink from threat, challenge, difficulty, or pain. You speak up for what is right even if there is opposition. You act on your convictions.

Citizenship, teamwork, and loyalty You excel as a member of a group. You are a loyal and dedicated teammate, you always do your share, and you work hard for the success of your group.

And for the record, I don't think this is what you all think of me. I'd be insufferable. And students: if you submit this kind of thing for your dissertations, we'll be having some long and painful conversations.

Sorry about the formatting - bloody Blogger. Anyway, I'm off to write a passage on times I've experienced 'flow', or total absorption in an activity. Tempted to cite blogging…

Before this meeting - my union's AGM, a casework meeting and several other duties. And in the background, John Major and Ed Miliband at Leveson. Be still, my aching heart!

Shamelessly stolen

Here's video of a presentation about a magnificent piece of research. Students were asked to cheat - individually or collectively - on a cybersecurity exam. They all succeeded, in ingenious ways - you'll laugh yourself silly with this one. Even better, they called the paper 'Embracing the Kobayashi Maru' - massive bonus points for a Star Trek reference.



You can read an early version of their paper here - the final version is in a paywalled journal, even though (as US military employees), American taxpayers have already paid.

Of course it's still rightwing nonsense - despite the US releasing Stuxnet, it's only 'our adversaries' who cheat. OK then… But the research is still valid.

Death comes to the Critic

In an idle moment (of which I have few, these days), I reread Terry Pratchett's Reaper Man, in which Death is fired and becomes a farm labourer while the universe tries to cope with an absence of expiration. It's funny and of course rather tender. Death himself is faced with the difficulty of understanding humans and they ways we cope with the knowledge of permanent oblivion, and he comes to admire us. He also has a keen eye for human nature:

There was never anything to be gained from observing what humans said to one another - language was just there to hide their thoughts. 

Which is rather perceptive literary criticism. Who'd have thought Pratchett was a Derridean post-structuralist?

I also remembered another good line from Miéville's Railsea, which uses Moby Dick to explore narrative and obsession, but with trains - it follows rather nicely from Pratchett's point. Here's Captain Naphi explaining her obsession with catching the giant mole:

'You know how careful are philosophies', Naphi said. 'How meanings are evasive. They hate to be parsed. Here again came the cunning of unreason. I was creaking, lost, knowing that the ivory-coloured beast had evaded my harpoon & continued his opaque diggers, resisting close reading & a solution to his mystery. I bellowed, & swore that one day I would submit him to a sharp & bladey interpretation'.

Which is funny because Moby Dick's whale is a symbol onto which multiple interpretations are cast, and because it's what we literary critics do. Well, others do. I stay in port telling people that my last interpretation was THIS BIG.

Books in the post today? Glad you asked. Pratchett's children's book The World of Poo, Alan Warner's new one (again about trains, but also a Scottish bildungsroman), The Deadman's Pedal. Another Scottish classic, Kelman's The Busconductor Hines, and Sheila Rowbotham's history of radical industrial-period women, Dreamers of a New Day.

Dispatches from the Front Line

Comrades, fraternal greetings from the Annual Congress of the Universities and Colleges Union. Ice-picks and kulaks must be left at the door on pain of internal exile to Stoke-on-Trent. Manchester is of course as wonderful as it always is. As soon as I stepped off the train, I was handed a free umbrella, better than the one I came with. It was to promote an advertising agency. Sadly (for them) I have absolutely no memory what it's called, nor any need to engage their services. But thanks anyway!

OK, I'm in a satirical mood, but I'm enjoying myself hugely. Running the gauntlet of the sectarian newspaper sellers at the door was hugely nostalgic - reminded me of my days in the NUS, sabotaging composite motions and introducing Trotskyists to Third Position Neo-Trotskyists and watching the sparks fly. What larks...

This morning I availed myself of the Morning Star, The Socialist, the Socialist Worker, the Socialist Appeal (the fact that the second Google result for that is 'split' tells you all you need to know about the Peoples' Front of Judea/Judean Peoples' Front nature of leftwing micropolitics) and - most ironically - Unity, the bulletin of one of the Communist Parties. For all my teasing, I find it utterly depressing that the various sects would rather spend their time explaining why the other sects have betrayed socialist unity than actually pursuing it. And then pursuing the Tories. I suppose it's a tacit admission that we lack the skills to persuade the public - bickering amongst ourselves is a form of displacement activity.

Everyone here is rather formidably magnificent - years of paper-selling, street-corner hectoring and of course lecturing have equipped them to deliver beautiful, pithy speeches designed to get us on our feet: one guy moved seamlessly from Marx to his toddler son. I contributed a very, very short and nervous declamation and retired, quaking. It may surprise some of you to learn that in person, we voles are shy and retiring creatures.

We've voted to reject the 1% pay offer (which makes it the fourth year of pay cuts, as inflation is much higher than 1%), to oppose the National Student Survey as methodologically flawed and capable of being used as a weapon against individual members and departments, and to achieve world peace, Cuban freedom and an end to sexism. Whether the outside world will act on these decisions is of course as yet unclear. But on the whole, it's wonderful to see people talking out important ideas seriously. Because we're all highly trained academics, we're both right on everything and good at arguing our points - but it's a bit sad that we're speaking into a vacuum. The really important work is the everyday casework and advocacy we do on our colleagues' behalf, that I can't tell you about.

OK, I'm off to a session of media training and political communication. See you on the barricades, comrades.

Literary meandering

I've read a few novels recently, some of which you might like. The first was David Lodge's 1965 comic novel The British Museum Is Falling Down. Its central character is a struggling PhD candidate who's simultaneously dreading his wife becoming pregnant again. As good Catholics, they find their life is pretty much ruined by the stress of counting the days in the Natural Rhythm then the suspense of working out whether their guilty sex will lead to further poverty… It's a period piece (no pun intended) now, of course, but it's an insight into the travails of ordinary decent Catholics who tried to stick to the rules. Now of course, most believers quietly ignore the rules set by the Vatican.

If Catholic guilt isn't your thing, there's a lot more to entertain you. The novel's set in a single day, like Ulysses, and each chapter is a beautiful parody or pastiche of a range of writers, Joyce included. It also has plenty to say about literature and academic study. Such as:

“Literature is mostly about having sex and not having children. Life is the other way around”

and two characters play a game I also indulge in: dreaming up new laws for when they're in total charge and can abuse the legal system simply to annoy their enemies. With REF (the stupid government research assessment) and the consequent rush to publication, this one very much appealed:

 Academic Publications Act: the government will undertake to subsidise the publication of a monthly periodical, about the size of a telephone directory and printed in columns on Bible paper, which will publish all scholarly articles, notes, correspondence etc. submitted to it, irrespective of merit or interest. All existing journals will be abolished. This will eliminate the element of invidious competition in academic appointments and promotions, which will be offered to candidates in alphabetical order.

That rather appeals to me, as a feckless slackademic whose initials are almost as close to the start of the alphabet as our hero Adam Appleby.

In the afterword, Lodge talks about another of his themes of the novel, The Anxiety of Influence, to use the term deployed by Bloom to describe the sense all authors get that they're merely repeating millennia of perfectly good extant literature. He quotes Flann O'Brien's At-Swim-Two-Birds (one of the greatest novels ever written) on the subject:

The modern novel should be largely a work of reference. Most authors spend their time saying what has been said before - usually said much better. A wealth of references to existing works would acquaint the reader instantaneously with the nature of each character, would obviate tiresome explanations and would effective preclude mountebanks upstarts, thimbleriggers, and persons of inferior education from an understanding of contemporary literature. 

Though one might say TS Eliot, Joyce and many others have already put this into practice.  My students certainly would.

The other novel I read is China Miéville's rather magnificent Railsea, his speculative fiction retelling of Moby Dick, in which the oceans have been replaced by railway lines and the Captain obsessively seeks not whales but a giant feral mole. It's a rollicking story, but like Melville's novel, it's about narrative and meaning, though more explicitly so: the Captain refers to the Moldywarpe as 'that burrowing signifier', and the narrator's interventions are playful, postmodern takes on the process of story-telling. Highly recommended.

Cheerio!

I'm not sure how many more of these web-telegrams you'll be receiving from me this week. I'm popping of in an hour's time to attend the University and College Union annual conference, which lasts until SUNDAY? What we'll find to talk about, I don't know. It's been such a dull year in the world of education.

Still, I'm ready. I've opted for summer-weight lovat tweed with correspondent shoes for the day-time - with two choices of cravat - and of course full evening dress for the nocturnal festivities. Armed with a trusty silk umbrella, I'm ready for everything Manchester and the SWP can throw at me.

Glancing through the programme, I can see that we'll have an awfully jolly time reconciling composite motions, but in the rare moments away from the nitty-gritty, I intend to vote for Palestinian freedom, Cuban solidarity, the end of tuition fees, the abolition of misogyny and world peace. And if that doesn't do the trick, I don't know what will!

Actually, despite my teasing - born of many years attending NUS conference - I'm looking forward to it. We've been battered and abused for two years by this government, and it doesn't look like stopping. Students are being exploited, the job's getting harder and we need to follow the Quebec model (now the largest protest in Canadian history) and resist. However, I do dread the tedious sectarian bickering of the various groupuscules who think wresting control of a motion will lead to revolution by Saturday…

Round the Wrekin…

I'd never heard this phrase until I moved to the Dark Place. Apparently it means doing something in a long-winded fashion - the Wrekin juts out of the Shropshire plain and can be seen for 50 miles around. I took a few pictures while I was up there the other day, though I wasn't quick enough to snap the deer. Rest here.

This little caterpillar chap was literally hanging around. 

The Nightingales - live on stage!

A few more shots of the Gales performing at the Slade Rooms. Rest here. Click these ones to enlarge. I'm getting the hang of gig photography, I think. I haven't got great big wide-aperture long lenses, so I stick my 50mm f/1.8 on, go up to about ISO 1000 and take multiple shots whenever the light changes. I don't use flash, but then I almost never do under any circumstances, though I must try some rear-curtain photography at some point. I'd like to exchange my 1.8 for a 1.4 at some point, then add the Tokina 11-16 and (when I win life's lottery), an f/2.8 400mm lens (about £6000). And a native bearer to carry it.

The Nightingales Sang In Berkeley Square

Well, not quite in Berkeley Square. More like a subway and then The Dark Place's finest small venue, The Slade Rooms. Named in honour of the town's greatest artists. The Gales sound is a monstrous mix of lacerating Black Country dry wit, krautrock and kosmische - glorious.

Here are some of the photos I took for them before and during the gig. I wanted to do a few more, and use my 1915 Kodak too, but time ran out. Hopefully the band like them. The rest are here.

The Return of the King…

Welcome back, subjects, welcome back? Have you had a surfeit of faux-1950s reactionary bunting, sandwiches, knickers and beer? I managed to avoid the vast majority of the jubimadness, though I was pleasantly surprised by the way capitalism managed to so comprehensively cheapen the whole thing - even the sex shop round the corner from my flat (Vole Towers is in the most salubrious area of town) managed to get in on the act, with union flag posters inviting royalists to celebrate by visiting during 'jubilee opening hours'. The pop concert sounded like utter dross too - the usual parade of dull but inoffensive mimers, from Tom Jones to Robbie Williams to Queen's Brian May. I don't know whether it was him or the palace which was more confused by that invitation. They probably thought he was a relative, he thought it was to mark the band's 60th anniversary. Anyway, the sheer tawdriness of the entire event cheered me up mightily.

As for me, I had a great weekend. Chief pleasures were doing a (sadly short) photoshoot with the Nightingales, then attending their gig in Wolverhampton. Before an audience of friends and family, they played a storming set - anchored by rock-steady drums and bass rather than the previous line-up's mindless drug hoovers, the new sound - krautrock, post-punk with just enough early-70s guitar heroism overlaid by Robert's driest vocals - was triumphant. I've seen them so many times and often wanted my ears to fall off, but not this time. They're on tour - catch them while you can.

Other highlights - a walk up The Ercall and The Wrekin, quality hills in Shropshire. Deer, jays, rabbits, cuckoos, caterpillars, buzzards, martins, larks - all animal life was there. I'll stick up some photos later, but now I'm off to an English Department Away Day. Although 'Away' in this case means - literally - 'upstairs'.

The Long Farewell

As I'm being forced to stay away from work on Monday and Tuesday to mark an anniversary I neither respect nor care about, you'll get a bit of a break from me. If you're a royalist, don't come back, eh? Subscribe to Majesty magazine, or buy the Daily Mail and practice your tutting.

Back on Wednesday, though that'll be a reduced service as I'm in progression boards, explaining myself to the external examiners and then treating them to strong drink in a vain attempt to get them to forget what I've written on your essays.

I intend to avoid the jubilee by either staying in bed or getting up a mountain. Enjoy your unwarranted holiday. Here are a couple of cultural artefacts to get us republicans through the week: the Smiths' 'The Queen Is Dead' and Charles I's execution warrant.

The Great Education Blogging Survey

Alice Rose Bell is doing some interesting education research, and is collecting data about education bloggers. I'm not sure I count as one - I work in education and talk about life in an institution (or Institution) - but I'm not a dedicated 'education blogger' unlike Music for Deckchairs, Ms E-Mentor or many of the people whose work I admire. Though I am very didactic, I suppose. 

Anyway, she asks us to complete this questionnaire and pass it on. So here goes.

Blog URL: 

http://www.plashingvole.blogspot.com

What do you blog about?

Work, teaching, marking, politics, music, books, reading, politics, more politics, fencing, things that make me angry. 

Are you paid to blog? 

No. Though I like to think that it's part of my professional duty. And I certainly blog during working hours. That sticks it to the Man. 

What do you do professionally (other than blog)?

I'm a university lecturer. 

How long have you been blogging at this site?

Since October 2008. I was asked to give an MA class on new media so set up a blog and asked the participants to do the same. They refused. I carried on, partly because it saves my friends' ears and partly because I can't help lecturing people. I'll stop when you all agree with me. 

Do you write in other platforms? (e.g. in a print magazine?)

Not habitually, though I've contributed the occasional piece to journals, education newspapers and elsewhere. I tweet and get letters in the Guardian too, sometimes. 

Can you remember why you started blogging?

I was asked to give an MA class on new media so set up a blog and asked the participants to do the same. They refused. I carried on, partly because it saves my friends' ears and partly because I can't help lecturing people. I'll stop when you all agree with me. 

What keeps you blogging?

Many things make me angry. Some things make me enthusiastic. I'm a bit didactic and I like to have my say, even though I have only a small audience. I'd like to think I'm entertaining (and/or annoying). Some of my tastes and interests are quite marginal, and a blog lets me communicate with people who share them. 

Do you have any idea of the size or character if your audience? How?

I've a basic metrics analysis link: I get between 150-200 hits per day, depending on what I've written and what time of year it is (academic holidays are a low point, so many of my readers are colleagues or students of mine). Some pieces get tweeted round and views rocket. Other days the tumbleweed rolls round. My readers are mostly in the UK, with a strong minority in the US and then a regular group from the rest of the world. 

What’s your attitude to/ relationship with people who comment on your blog?

Most commenters seem to be regular readers. I'd like more comments actually - it implies engagement and interest. I usually respond to comments and frequently alter posts in the light of them. I can never tell what's going to attract a lot of comments - it's never the ones I think should get people going. 

Do you feel as if you fit into any particular community, network or genre of blogging? (e.g. schools, science, education, museums, technology)

Education and humanities. But I'm really a generalist - I admire those bloggers who've built an audience by single-minded devotion to a particular field or subject. 

If so, what does that community give you?

Developing links with other academics has given me plenty to read, and occasional publication on other sites and in the press. I haven't collaborated with anyone yet, but I'm hopeful. There's always a lot of support - emotional and professional - available. .

What do you think are the advantages of blogging? What are its disadvantages/ limitations?

It's addictive and easy - I find myself rushing to blog rather than embarking on a lecture or a paper. It's hard to know whether you're actually contributing to the sum of human knowledge or pleasure. I do like the communal aspects, and think there is a degree of social capital accruing to blogging. Negotiating the personal/professional boundaries is a bit tricky too. Then there's the matter of performative identities - I was amused and intrigued to find that some of my readership believed that I am female. Getting tone of voice right is also trickier online, partly because we read and write differently online: I'm not sure people know where it fits generically yet. 

I like the speed of blogging: perhaps it fosters off-the-cuff thinking, but in many ways, intelligent commentators reacting quickly is necessary in the current political and cultural environment. The public sphere has been widened from a tight circle of professional commentators to a wider sphere of (mostly white, educated, western, anglophone but often contradictory) commentators who can at least provide instant feedback with alternative perspectives to that of the élites.

Do you tell people you know offline that you’re a blogger? (e.g. your grandmother, your boss)

A lot of people do, though I've tried my best to keep my meatspace name off the site, though not entirely successfully. I used to be more explicit about my workplace and its tensions, but I've rowed back from that rather. 

Bah, jubilee humbug.

Nothing but versatile, I'll follow my previous post about brilliant No. 1 singles with a bit of poetry to mark the Jubilee. Given my hard left republican (and Republican) sympathies, you'll not be too surprised at my antipathy towards the royals. Not just British royals, mind you: all of them. If only Cromwell hadn't spent so much time murdering the Irish he'd be in my pantheon. I guess Winstanley will have to do. I'm a citizen of a Republic: if I persuade enough people, I could be President. Whereas here, I'm afraid I'll have to stage a violent coup, which is such hard work. Just running the inevitable camps will take up half my time. 


As I may have mentioned recently, I was appalled to discover that the new patron of the School Games is prince Harry. What a way to miss the point: inspire kids to work their damnedest to achieve their goals… by putting a man who inherited wealth and position at their head. 


Anyway, here's a poem from a part of the world the British have forgotten. Remember: while you lot swig Pimms and wave flags for a weekend, Ulster Loyalists live it day in, day out. They really mean it. How I wish they didn't. 


This is 'Wounds', by Michael Longley. 

Here are two pictures from my father’s head—
I have kept them like secrets until now:
First, the Ulster Division at the Somme
Going over the top with ‘Fuck the Pope!’
‘No Surrender!’: a boy about to die,
Screaming ‘Give ’em one for the Shankill!’
‘Wilder than Gurkhas’ were my father’s words
Of admiration and bewilderment.
Next comes the London-Scottish padre
Resettling kilts with his swagger-stick,
With a stylish backhand and a prayer.
Over a landscape of dead buttocks
My father followed him for fifty years.
At last, a belated casualty,
He said — lead traces flaring till they hurt —
‘I am dying for King and Country, slowly.’
I touched his hand, his thin head I touched.

Now, with military honours of a kind,
With his badges, his medals like rainbows,
His spinning compass, I bury beside him
Three teenage soldiers, bellies full of
Bullets and Irish beer, their flies undone.
A packet of Woodbines I throw in,
A lucifer, the Sacred Heart of Jesus
Paralysed as heavy guns put out
The night-light in a nursery for ever;
Also a bus-conductor’s uniform—
He collapsed beside his carpet-slippers
Without a murmur, shot through the head
By a shivering boy who wandered in
Before they could turn the television down
Or tidy away the supper dishes.
To the children, to a bewildered wife,
I think ‘Sorry Missus’ was what he said.

Come in, Number 1, your time is up?

Over at the Guardian, they're filling in the Leveson-less hours with a piece on favourite Number 1 chart singles over the years. There are some surprising tracks and little gems, so I thought I'd shamelessly hijack the debate and ask you what your favourites are.

This is a bit cheeky of course - very few of the songs I like have ever reached the Top Ten, let alone No. 1. That's because I have better taste than you Sheeple (joke), although I think you were absolutely right to put Tiffany's 'I Think We're Alone Now, Dexy's 'Geno' (not as good as 'Plan B' and Vic Reeves with the Wonder Stuff up there. But chart music is a special genre with whose parameters I'm not familiar. But being a nerd, I had a quick look at the list of chart-toppers from 1980 on (basically from when I was sentient - born in 1975) to see if there were any shared features or trends.

They say that if you want to take a culture's aesthetic temperature, you don't look to the canon of 'literature' - you look at what people read in volume (mostly Mills and Boon and Andy McNab). The same goes for music - snobs like me are in a definite minority. The British taste in music is fairly catholic, but some conclusions can be drawn. Firstly, and brilliantly, you like novelty songs. A lot. From TV comedies (Spitting Image's 'The Chicken Song' was huge both in my playground and nationally), advert music (ponderous Stiltskin, which I had on tape, or 'Flat Beat' which I didn't) to summer holiday smashes ('Las Ketchup') picked up and discarded in the time it takes to get through a Jackie Collins at the airport, to out-and-out weirdness ('Doctorin' The Tardis' - genius, and The Firm's 'Star Trekkin'' - which I have on 7" vinyl: the dub b-side is brilliant) and subversion (The Shamen's 'Ebeneezer Goode', sometimes you just want a laugh. Honourable mention too for the BBC getting an all-star cast together for 'Perfect Day': a song about scoring smack blithely used to demand that we keep coughing up the licence fee, then released for Children in Need.

One of the sad things of the last decade is the way that 'reality' TV songs have replaced these camp classics,  left-field one hit wonders (I spent a couple of summers cruising round in a friend's mum's Volvo 240: the only tapes in the car were Chesney Hawkes's 'I Am The One And Only', which came with a genuinely good blues b-side and UCC's awful  'I've Got The Key', both of which were preferable to Joseph's Deacon Blue albums) and comedy tracks - often with terrible ballads. At least B*Witched (3 number ones in 1998) were clearly grabbing their chances with both hands and having a brilliant time rather than attempting to be meaningful. With some novelty tracks, there's just a whiff of calculation rather than serendipitous discovery, such as the two weeks in 2004 which saw Eamon's 'Fuck It, I Don't Want You Back' replaced by Frankee's reply, 'Fuck You Right Back'.

I particularly like Falco's 'Rock Me Amadeus':



But Britain: hang your heads for buying this in massive numbers, even if it was for charity:



There's also a deeply maudlin aspect to the British psyche. Who'd have thought that the theme from Vietnam War allegory M*A*S*H*, the resolutely downbeat 'Suicide is Painless' would reach the top? Or Sinead O'Connor's cover of 'Nothing Compares 2U'?  Then there's the awful mush: the sheer cynicism of melding dead Eva Cassidy with alive Katie Melua to get 'What a Wonderful World' to the top in 2007 horrifies me, but when the Radio 2 crowd get going, there's no stopping them. Talking of which, who thought it was a good idea to mark the Dunblane Massacre with a charity single of 'Knocking on Heaven's Door b/w Throw These Guns Away'? I guess the music doesn't matter when the nation's in a state of shock.



But the worst Number One of all is of course Rage Against The Machine's 'Killing in the Name Of'. Not because of the music - it's a great track by a band I respect even if they are major-label marxists. It's the mean-spirited purpose of that campaign. I want to hear the bands I like in the charts: I remember spending every Sunday by the radio hoping that something I liked would be played, and always being disappointed. I hate the production-line rubbish that clogs up the charts. But that's the point: it's not for me. It's for 10 year-olds for whom everything sounds new, and for a few deluded gits who think that buying a song by the 'Military Wives' is somehow meaningful. The joy of the top ten is that it is - or was, until the web made everything permanent - ephemeral. Weird things happen in the charts, though less so as corporate music becomes more cynically mechanical. That's why it's fun. The top of the charts is no place for complexity, ambiguity or profundity. It's about cheap thrills. Go with it or get lost.

Here are a few more Number Ones I liked. First up, White Town, with 'Your Woman':



And of course Cornershop: shy indie Asian genius. Sadly, I bought the original version which didn't have much poke, but the remix deservedly hit Number One:



Recently, Cee-Lo Green's 'Fuck You' is a masterpiece: funny, heartfelt, and beautifully done.



Couldn't leave you without tabloid-baiting 'Ebeneezer Goode', even though I recently read an interview with the lyricist who clearly thought he was up there with Milton and Blake, and Vic Reeves and the Wonder Stuff.

Charlatan of the Week

I've just had some very entertaining junk mail from George Rowley, who can be contacted at GeorgeRowley04@aol.com if you'd like to engage him in conversation.

Hi,

Bit matey for a complete stranger. But we'll let it pass.

My name is George and I would like to introduce you to my work at Mindsways. I have been working with people, businesses and organisations around how they can benefit from applying mind magic and psychological artistry to their delivery. My aim is to introduce something new and fresh into your existing mix of ideas. This is about you learning and doing something different. 

George, it's rather presumptuous of you to assume that I'm a) interested and b) unfamiliar with 'new and fresh' ideas. The use of 'magic' and 'psychological artistry' makes me think of those very sinister people who use Neurolinguistic Programming to control their staff or supposedly get into women's undergarments. What, by the way, is 'delivery'? Are you a midwife?

Albert Einstein once said "Out of the mysterious we discover the undiscovered". What do you think? How does this translate into your thinking and delivery? 

Did he really say that? I can't find any evidence of this at all. But if we're going to bandy purported Einstein quotes, I have one for you:

Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe.

 But let's press on.

I am currently running and delivering a programme called "Sleight of Mind Set" (SMS). This programme is all about enabling you to learn, appreciate and apply mind magic and psychological artistry to what you do. 

But you don't know what I do. And quite frankly, when I need communications advice, I turn to Thomas of Chobham, who knew quite a lot about public speaking. Your approach seems unethical and rather sinister. Though Goebbels would like it. Moving on:

This programme is good for anyone looking for something different and to stimulate new styles of thinking. The feedback has definitely been that it has satisfied the thirst for new ideas whilst ticking all of the edutrainment boxes. 

Oh George. Edutrainment? For this, you deserve to swing from a lamp-post. You come across as a cross between the 'chilled-out entertainer' from The Office and a sweaty, sad shill. You should join our pedagogy department! Or the Scientologists. They both prefer pseudo-science and propaganda to hard work.

And he goes interminably on to the extent that even I'm bored. Begone, sir!

Slaving away?

OK, students, here's a chance to boast or fess up. This is a chart from a report of students' claimed private study hours per week.

Here at The Hegemon, we assume that every hour in class should be accompanied by several hours' individual study, though of course we understand that our intake - lots of working students, parents etc - has a lot more going on than the 'traditional' student body. A few students probably get this much done, and a lot don't. Some might work regularly, some might cram sometimes. I know for a fact that many calculate what's possible - only reading texts they tend to write about, for instance. Understandable, though missing the wider educational point. I'm moderately well-educated because I read widely and make unexpected links and have a literary 'hinterland' as well as a focal point.

I can't honestly say I worked that hard as an undergraduate. I did an English degree, with education and philosophy minors. I went to all my lectures, because there were so few it would have felt rude not to (except the ones in which the lecturer handed out his text and then read from it, without deviation). It was warmer too! On the other hand, because virtually my only hobby was reading, much of what I thought was leisure was probably beneficial for work.

Certainly my academic life wasn't structured in any way. Assessment was by annual exams: my tutors wanted the occasional essay, but not very often and they had no impact on my degree. No dissertation or group work either - ideal for a fundamentally idle but enthusiastic chap such as myself. I honestly don't know how I'd have coped with the regular, significant work my students have to do.

So: how much study do you put in? Enough? Not enough? Are our expectations too high or too low?