The yellow peril

Lenny on the budget:

However, the government does have a strategy, which involves terrorising and cajoling people. They have talked up the need for cuts, quite relentlessly, once in office. They have tried to create a panic about the state of the public finances, simulating a Greek-style shock, though in fact the fiscal situation is better than it was thought it would be. They have used the budget to not merely cut, but threaten severe attacks on all non-ringfenced public spending, slashing an average of a quarter of the budget across departments. But their real target is, and always has been, welfare. They hope that by scaring people about what they will do to education, transport, justice, etc., they will gain support if they suddenly decide to shift more of the burden to welfare.

And on the subject of welfare, quelle surprise, they are coming back for more. To begin with, promises enshrined in the coalition agreement that supposedly protected the poorest, such as the pledge not to attack bus travel subsidies and winter fuel payments for pensioners, are about to be tossed overboard. The welfare system is experiencing a phased attack, each additional blow intended to gain acquiescence and soften people up for more. The FT approves, editorialising in favour of more welfare cuts, and cuts in public sector pay, to avoid cuts in other areas such as justice and transport. The Economist agrees, bemoaning the fact that no party could publicly call for attacks on welfare during the election, but insisting that welfare must bear more of the burden. This is the ruling class in full battle cry – bail out the banks, pay off the bond traders, keep the basic infrastructure working, and make the poorest bear the cost.

The Tory budget would not be possible without the LibDems. Had they not gone into coalition with the Tories, the latter would’ve had to form a minority government and not have the support to put through such a radical plan. There’s not much difference in the three parties’ economic views, but only the Tories see the current crisis as an opportunity. And because the LibDems have committed themselves to support the coalition for its full term, they have no room to negotiate (assuming they’d even want to); they’re stuck with the Tories and no longer believeable as a sensible alternative to either them or Labour. Phil thinks he knows what that means for the party’s longer term future:

For a variety of reasons – some positional, some tribal – the possibilities open to the Lib Dems have been massively reshaped by their alliance with the Tories. The formation of the coalition, in and of itself, will have made it almost impossible to take the Lib Dems seriously as a party of the centre-left, or even the centre, for a very long time; I don’t think the party leadership realised just how big a break they were making with the old tradition of ‘equidistance’, let alone the party’s more recent position on Labour’s left-libertarian flank. But there was also a second miscalculation, and a larger one. The coalition is designed as a long-term project, with a five-year expiry date – and every day of those five years will bring negotiations, adjustments, decisions to retreat from Lib Dem priorities or accede to Tory policy. In other words, the Lib Dems are locked in to a process of rapprochement with the Tories: they’re not merely a satellite of the Tory planet, they’re a satellite in a decaying orbit.

This is roughly what happened to D66 in Balkenende’s second to last government. A left-liberal party like the LibDems, they too sold out their principles for government participation and were punished by the voters in the next elections, dropping to only two seats in parliament. It was only thanks to a clever repositioning as the anti-Wilders party that they managed to come back, but it took years.

The root causes for both parties’ behaviour are the same. Though they are described as being leftwing, on economic issues they’re on the right, comfortably neoliberal and firm believers in capitalist realism: the idea that the current system is the best we can do and can only be tweaked, not changed. They distinguish themselves through social issues that are far less rooted in ideology. So if you agree on the fundamental economical questions, what’s left is just a series of issues you can trade with other parties. Labour may be a bit more gay friendly but that’s offset by the Tories opposition to 90 days detention, etc. So for the LibDems working with the Tories was no different from working with Labour, even though voters disagreed. The endresult: this budget, which lets the poor pay for the crimes of the rich.

UPDATE: The Liberal Democrats are already paying the price for enabling the Tories:they’re going down in the polls. Of course, if the coalition does stay the course this may not matter; a lot can happen in five years. But it would fit the pattern D66 has established: doing well in opposition as the respectable party, plummeting when in government.

Mainstream writers and science fiction

Typical. For the second time in a week somebody pulled a post I had set aside to respond to. This time it’s Will Ellwood who got cold feet and deleted his post on whether you can get too old to write science fiction. To be honest, it is an incoherent and rambling post, one of those where you can see the writer isn’t sure themselves what their points are, if any, but if I had to delete all my incoherent posts… Luckily Google remembers everything, because hidden in the jumble was an interesting point:

Often literary writers who have a go at writing what seems to be genre fiction get derided and mocked by genre fans for being unoriginal and clichéd. But are literary writers like Margaret Atwood, David Mitchell and Cormac McCarthy writing classical SF which is based around the question of ‘what if?’ or are they writing allegories and metaphor about the human condition which use the tools of SF as emphasis?

I would argue that to attempt to critique ‘The Road’ as a traditional post-apocalyptic novel would fail, as the novel is not an example of speculative world building and exploration, but a meditation on many themes. Not least the theme of a relationship between a dying father and his son in hopeless circumstances. To attempt such a critique would be to be genuinely and wilfully interpreting the book wrong.

Ellwood is riffing here on an earlier post by Damien G. Walter on whether or not new science fiction writers need to know their genre history:

But is knowing the history of SF essential to becoming a writer in the genre? On the one hand SF can be considered as an ongoing conversation spanning decades. It you enter that conversation without knowing what has already been said, you are not liable to say much of interest to people who have been following the arguments unfold for decades. But on the other hand if SF is a genre that seeks to find meaning in modern life, raw responses to that life might be mire interesting than viewpoints filtered through the mirror shaded gaze of the SF genre.

Ellwood argues that judging mainstream writers in genre terms when they’re attempting science fiction is missing the point, while Walters finds that it might even work in a writer’s favour to be ignorant of the genre. Both are provocative arguments in a field that has always had a bit of an inferiority complex when comparing itself to the literary mainstream. An inferiority complex fed by the frequent denial of mainstream writers dabbling in science fiction that they do so, of which Margaret Atwood is the most prominent recent examplar. It also galls that so often inferior works of mainstream writers are praised for their originality when so often they’re rote reworkings of old, old science fiction ideas and some never recognised sf writer has done it much better much earlier.

However, it’s not the 1970ties anymore and science fiction, though still routinely portrayed as an activity practised by spotty nerds living in their parents basement, has become ubiqitous, something you can’t help but be aware off, similar to how most people have some understanding of football (be it proper football or the American version) even if not interested in the game. Contemporary writers like David “not the comedian” Mitchell or Cormac McCarthy start with a much greater familiarity with science fiction than earlier writers could have. The science fiction ghetto has long since had its walls torn down and besides which, those walls have always been a lot less high than some sf fans like to believe. Heck, roughly half the writer entries in Clute and Nicholl’s Encyclopedia of Science Fiction are from outside the genre.

All of which means both Ellwood and Walters are right, up to a point. It is pointless to judge mainstream writers using science fiction as a tool for not adhering to traditional sfnal strengths like worldbuilding or sense of wonder when that’s not their intent. In Walters’ words, these writers may not be interested in joining the conversation sf as a genre is engaged in. Which is fair enough.

Yet having other priorities does not excuse a writer from getting the science fiction elements right. It is possible to critique The Road on its worldbuilding and unoriginality while still acknowledging its other strengths, to recognise that it stands in a long tradition of post-apocalyptic works, both genre and non-genre. And if people like Michael Chabon — who really should know better — insist that it isn’t science fiction, this should be protested. Science fiction’s own achievements should not be swept under the carpet just because some more literary acceptable writer has taken a shine to the subject. To be fair though, this seems to be more of a critic’s disease, with writers putting on some protective colouring not to be tarred by outdated notions about sf’s illegitimacy by those critics.

If we look at the big picture we may see that science fiction, which had a long prehistory of being proper literature before becoming a real genre in the safety of the pulp ghetto, may migrate back into the literary mainstream again, eventually just becoming one option amongst many for a writer. At the moment it’s almost where the detective story was in the seventies: acceptable for respectable writers to dabble in, as long as they don’t take it too seriously.

Football is going home?

UPDATE: no.

“I just got this email from a German colleague,” announces Justin Steed. “The subject line was ‘Official FIFA schedule’. Tue.: France vs. South Africa in Mangaung. Wed: England vs. Slovenia in Port Elizabeth. Thurs: England vs. France at Airport Who said the Germans weren’t funny? Oh.”

From The Guardian’s live commentary yesterday on France v South Africa. It sums up the expectations of neutrals for England. Football may be going home prematurely again tonight, if the English can’t manage a miracle and actually do some proper football today. It would fit the general trend in this Worldcup of underperforming European teams. France has gone home, England needs a miracle, Germany and Italy are still in danger as well, while Holland may have qualified but not with that much conviction — good enough, rather than good football.

The question is why this is so. Have the resat of the world caught up, with even supposedly weak teams being able to mount reasonable defences against the favourites, no longer in awe of them? Or is it something endemic to Europe, with the supposed powerhouses being revealed to have feet of clay. France obviously has its own story, but it’s suspicious that countries like England, Germany, Spain and Italy all have strong national competitions which are largely populated with foreign superstars. Players like Roony or Terry are used to play with the best of the best of the world in their club teams, but you can’t say the same about their mates on the national squad…. Has the ever increasing commercialisation and globalisation of football hollowed out the national teams?

It’s certainly telling that countries with “lesser” competitions with fewer foreign superstars playing in it seem to do better…

Link like it’s 1995

It’s hard to imagine these days, but remember back in the nineties when the web started to go mainstream and all sort of not very IT aware companies took their first baby steps on it? Remember how quite a few of those companies just didn’t understand linking and how some of those tried to get their lawyers to forbid socalled deeplinking, wanting to gain control of whoever was linking to them and requiring them to only link to their homepage, rather than “deeplinking” to a specific page on the site? Well, it seems in some remote corner of Belgium it’s still 1995, as the national railways have forbidden links to anything but their welcome page (in dutch).

Specifically, the NMBS doesn’t like it when you link to this page (Dutch), explaining how you can get compensation when your train is delayed. At least one blogger who linked to this page got a cease and desist letter for their troubles (Dutch again). Very likely the NMBS doesn’t have a leg to stand on, but I’m not a lawyer and the chilling effect is bad enough. Even if a blogger could win a lawsuit, the question is whether they could afford one. It’s all deeply silly, symptomatic of a company that doesn’t understand the internet or why they should be doing more with it.