Yasmin Alibhai Brown in the Independent
Tony Blair is a very busy man – so many calling on him, so little time. He had, apparently, agreed to speak at a conference on world hunger in Stockholm. Last year his very good friend Bill Clinton spoke at this same gathering, organised by Eat, a non-profit organisation set up by Swedish philanthropists. But a slight hitch came up with the Blair booking: reports suggest our erstwhile PM allegedly wanted £330,000 for a 20-minute sermon. (Clinton got £327,000 for 30 minutes.) Eat thought the fee too high, although Blair’s office insists money wasn’t spoken of and he simply had a previous engagement.
For whatever reason, Blair will not now orate stirringly on how to save the millions who live on less than 82 pence per day. Tony’s office says the money was to go to the Cherie Blair Foundation for Women. But like cheap room deodorisers, that late fragrance of good intent cannot overpower the bad smell coming from this story.
The Fifa drama is also all about money. Football does not even have a bit part. All the top men drive fast in the fog of power and wealth, without a moral compass, and still pretend that they are maligned heroes. Prince William lectures them about probity and corruption without so much as a second thought for the royal finances and tax secrecy.
This week also had Iain Duncan Smith, a fervent Catholic and man of some wealth, considering draconian child benefit restrictions. To save £2.5bn per year he wants to cut the payment from £20.70 for the first child to £13.70 – and is also looking at restricting benefits to two children. To this quiet man, poverty must be as hard to understand as godlessness.
Meanwhile, well-heeled George Osborne is to meet the Queen to review grants given to the royals. The boilers are too old, the energy bills for all those palaces too high. Unlike other pensioners, our monarch will not have to resort to hot water bottles, of that we can be sure. Nor will she visit those in her kingdom who shiver day and night, have barely enough to eat and live in rat-infested rooms.
This was also the week when Thomas Cook was humbled after failing to respond with basic humanity to the parents of two young children who died of carbon monoxide poisoning in a Corfu hotel.
I find all this alien and deeply baffling. How do the rich think? How are they so solipsistic, so self-serving and self-promoting? Are they born that way or are they raised as members of a particularly hard tribe? We must try to understand people who have it all, now that we are to be governed by a clique of the very privileged.
And so, in that spirit, I made myself read a column penned by entrepreneur Luke Johnson, son of Paul Johnson, the former editor of the New Statesman who walked briskly rightwards to become an ardent Tory.
To be successful, you need a dream team, sayest Luke, a blue-eyed dynamo and chairman of Risk Capital Partners: “First and foremost is the spouse... to provide emotional and practical backing. Self-employment can be desolate. Most entrepreneurs are obsessives, and often selfish in the pursuit of their ambitions. They require a tolerant spouse to provide relief...” Also a devoted “Super PA”. I gave up reading halfway through, because the man was so unutterably self-satisfied. Getting into these mindsets is harder than I thought.
Now, most Ugandan Asians are natural-born moneymakers. The exiles who were resented and unwanted in 1972 have made good. Many are millionaires and right wing. Like the Tory minister Priti Patel, too many of my ex-compatriots believe in self-reliance, low taxes, hard punishment and a social Darwinism. Benefits, in their view, only encourage layabouts and wastrels.
I had relatives back in Uganda who lived in grand houses, paid no tax and expected deference. Among my classmates, a few became doctors, the rest went into business and, yes, made bucks. I think I was born with a mutant gene.
Two guys with big money offered to marry me. One still hoots when he sees my Nissan Micra and always follows up with some unsolicited advice: “You are clever and very stupid. Money would make you powerful.
“All these politicians come to us. They don’t read your words – who cares about what you say? We make the world go round. You, your type, and lazy bastards on benefits make it slow down. You should be worshipping us.” So glad I didn’t marry the bald, fat scumbag.
These capitalists really do see themselves as redeemers, even those who pay their staff the lowest wages and do little to make the world a better place. Men such as Bill Gates do use their money to alleviate poverty, but they are rare.
The rest, even when they give cash, want something in return – an honour, a name on some grand wall, a PR victory. Sure, if they help the arts or the unemployed, give them the accolades and respect they crave. But what of the CEOs and shareholders who feel no social obligations, yet want more gratitude or see themselves as victims of deep ingratitude?
Tom Perkins, a US venture capitalist, complained that the recent war on the rich was like “the Holocaust”. (He later apologised.) Sam Zell, the American chief executive of an equity company – and a zealous defender of the top one per cent of global earners – says “subsidising people and disincentivising [the poor]” through benefits is the problem. Those who don’t succeed don’t want to try.
I read books on the minds and methods of the rich. They think selfishness is a virtue and that poverty (not money) is the root of all evil, that it is the end not the means which matter and that welfare for failure leads to more failure. They belong only to each other. The wider good does not exist. I see that now.
The future – political and economic – belongs to these masters of the universe. There is no alternative, no fight back. Even Labour now sucks up to them. Bleak times.
Showing posts with label Blair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blair. Show all posts
Sunday 14 June 2015
Wednesday 1 October 2014
Radovan Karadžić awaits his verdict, but this is two-tier international justice
The ex-Bosnian Serb leader has been prosecuted, yet the war crimes tribunal resists calls to indict others
There he was, on the other side of the bullet-proof glass: Radovan Karadžić himself, inches away, accused of genocide and other war crimes across Bosnia during the 1990s. He saluted me with an entwinement of avuncular cordiality and cold-like-ice.
This was an “interview” to which Karadžić, defendant at the war crimes tribunal in The Hague, is entitled before his prosecutors called me as a witness, back in 2010. During cross-examination, Karadžić posited the bizarre notion that only ONE person had died in the infamous concentration camp at Omarska it had been my curse to uncover in 1992.
This week, nearly five years after his trial began, come the closing arguments that will lead either to Karadžić’s acquittal or conviction for ordering the hurricane of violence he himself called ethnic cleansing between 1992 and 1995.
If nothing else, the prosecution will serve to remind us that carnage of that kind is still possible in modern Europe: death, torture, mass rape and mutilation in the camps; the siege and torture of a great European capital, Sarajevo; the summary massacre of 8,000 men and boys at Srebrenica. Karadžić has asked for 17 hours to outline his explanation for all this, under his alleged command.
Karadžić was political commissar of the Bosnian Serb project for a racially “pure” state during those years and, along with the verdict on his military counterpart, General Ratko Mladic, the outcome will be the highwater mark of the two-decade enterprise in what was to be groundbreaking international law enforcement by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY).
The man leading the Karadžić prosecution, Alan Tieger, was there at the outset prosecuting its first defendant in 1996, a parish-pump sadist and murderer called Dusko Tadic, now free after serving his sentence.
I was called by the tribunal in the early days, when it was lean, keen and felt right on its side. The court had been established in 1993 through both contrition and ambition. Contrition, because the UN had already become inept and cynical to the point of complicity in the slaughter it now sought to prosecute (though ironically, the worst was yet to come in 1995, when Dutch troops delivered the “safe area” of Srebrenica to the slaughter). Ambition, because the ICTY was seen as putting into action a brave new world of human rights, whereby the bullies of history would be held to account.
A lot can happen to a UN organism in 20 years. I testified in eight trials, have given months of work to the tribunal, and watched it bloat: heard clear language of law and liability replaced by jargon and anagrams; watched communication become a logjam of bureaucracy and hierarchy; listened to the wretched survivors summoned to testify, and wonder how much money was being made in their name. Answer: one hell of a lot.
But more important clouds have gathered over the ICTY. One concerns the promise – oft-spoken and crucial to the Hague’s raison d’etre – that its existence would deter mass murderers of the future. President Assad of Syria shows no sign of such quaking in his shoes.
A second was the tribunal’s extra-judicial brief: that it not only judge those accused, but also promote reconciliation. One of the tribunal’s major achievements has indeed been that the narrative of the war was told from witness chairs during “victim testimony”– the voices of the survivors. But there has been no reconciliation.
Bosnia is a living example, because there has been no reckoning. Reckoning, a prerequisite to reconciliation, is a harsher word which entails coming to terms with the calamity, staring at oneself in the mirror, and making amends – historical, political and material. This has not happened in a land still riven by partition as dictated by the vanities of the Dayton peace agreement, which ended the war by rewarding Karadžić’s project and granting his “Republika Srpska”, where children attend two schools under the same roof, where denial of the massacre at Srebrenica and concentration camps is still de rigeur and a means of maintaining power.
To this reality even 20 years on, the ICTY has added little or nothing: one could argue that more community-level bonding between ethnicities resulted last year from protests against privatisation, flooding, and the qualification of Bosnia’s football team for the World Cup in Brazil.
And doubts raised by recent verdicts have seemed to unravel the ICTY’s own work. Two rulings in the appeals chamber in 2012 and 2013 overturned the crucial convictions of the Croatian general Ante Gotovina and the commander of the Serbian (Yugoslav) army Momčilo Perišić. Chaired on both occasions by Judge Theodor Meron – a Holocaust survivor, former Israeli diplomat and US citizen – a majority of judges ruled that theevidence lacked “specific direction” to the troops under the generals’ command to commit atrocities. In other words, the buck stops short of the top, even when we all know war crimes have been committed.
This was galling for prosecutors because once the dramatic “victim testimony” was entered against small fry like Tadic, the hard, drier, work had been to establish chains of command that connected the political and military leaderships to the atrocities. For instance – in a tip to President Assad – the bench under Judge Meron deemed that to shell a community into the rubble until the survivors flee does not constitute deportation, since the emptying out of population was not “specifically directed”.
There were vehement dissenters from the bench in both cases: but back home, to illustrate the point about reconciliation, Bosnian Croats whooped and celebrated the liberty of Gotovina while spitting their outrage at that of Perišić; Bosnian Serbs did exactly the reverse. One’s own side cannot commit a war crime, it seems – only the enemy – in the land of un-reckoning.
But the most severe doubt about the ICTY, which does not concern its remit so much as its legacy, is who gets prosecuted in the brave new world of human rights. When Archbishop Desmond Tutu wrote in the Observer that former British prime minister Tony Blair should be indicted for war crimes in Iraq, he raised the question: how high are future indictments at the permanent international criminal court or other ad-hoc tribunals like the ICTY going to aim? So far, the ICC has failed to indict a single person who is white. It staunchly resisted calls for an indictment for General August Pinochet of Chile; Blair is not even on its radar screen, for all the archbishop’s pleading.
The questions remain, beyond Karadžić. Why Charles Taylor and not Blair, Bush or the Israeli bomber command that targeted schools in Lebanon and civilian shelters in Gaza? At what point does the ICC address environmental or corporate crime: mining companies before which entire communities in Africa and Latin America vanish, or banks involved in systematic laundering of the profits of drug cartels?
Legal philosopher Costas Douzinas has written a book daring to suggest that “human rights” are becoming tools of the powerful nations, more than sacrosanct principles as defined by his ancestors in Greece, the French revolutionaries and Tom Paine.
It has been a long, worthwhile haul from the Tadic trial to that of Karadžić, and an acquittal over “specific direction” would be grotesque while the earth still gives up its dead around Srebrenica and the camps. But after that, for Douzinas to be proved wrong, the lucrative carousel of international justice needs to raise, not lower, its sights.
Saturday 28 June 2014
The difference between Gordon Brown and Tony Blair
Gordon Brown is back, and may be the man to save the union
He was reviled after he lost the 2010 election, but the former PM is now reframing the Scottish independence debate
‘Gordon Brown retains a standing in Scotland which he never really had in England. He is seen as a national heavyweight.' Photograph: David Moir/Reuters
Tony Blair was on the front page of the Financial Times this week, as the paper brought word of the former prime minister's plan to open an office in "the increasingly assertive oil-rich emirate" of Abu Dhabi. The FT explained that Blair is expanding his portfolio of business and other interests in the Middle East, which already includes a contract to advise Mubadala, one of Abu Dhabi's mighty sovereign wealth funds.
A few hours later, Blair's successor, Gordon Brown, came to London to advance some business of his own. Brown was in the capital to attend a series of unpaid meetings in cramped rooms, pressing the case for Scotland to remain part of the UK. He was rewarded with a cup of canteen coffee.
The contrast between Britain's last two prime ministers could hardly be sharper. They were always unalike, but now they inhabit different worlds. Blair has morphed into Adam Lang, the permatanned, globetrotting ex-statesman-for-hire at the centre of Robert Harris's novel The Ghost. Brown refuses the pension owed to him as a former prime minister. The jacket of his latest book, My Scotland, Our Britain, discloses that any profits will be given to charity. When he wrote recently for the Guardian, he declined the (admittedly modest) fee. As far as anyone can tell, he lives with his family at home in North Queensferry on his MP's salary. By his actions, he declares himself the unBlair – a man determined not to profit from his public position.
So while Blair has the sleek glow of the expensively dressed elite, Brown pitches up in a suit whose years of heavy-duty service are visible: there's a tiny hole in his sleeve. But the difference goes deeper. While Blair is unembarrassed, eager to sound off about the future of the Middle East – when others might have held back, given how things turned out in Iraq – Brown has proved more reticent. After his defeat in 2010, he allowed the coalition and its allies to trash his reputation, to pretend it was Brown's profligacy, rather than a global financial crash, that had ballooned the deficit. Privately, he told friends there was no point trying to defend himself, as people were in no mood to listen. Defeated leaders like him have to "go through a period when they're reviled, that's just the way it is".
He still holds to that vow of silence, more or less, on UK-wide politics, letting Labour's new generation have the battlefield to themselves. But in recent months he has broken his own golden rule and stormed back into the public square, to play his part in a contest he says differs from normal politics because its outcome could be irreversible. His fellow Scots are about to vote on independence, and he wants them to say no.
He is campaigning vigorously, speaking in Aberdeen today on the contested question of North Sea oil, packing out halls and addressing rallies day after day. "He's now a key part of the conversation," reports the Guardian's Scotland correspondent Severin Carrell. So omnipresent has Brown become that observers describe him as the most prominent, commanding Labour figure in the campaign, stirring the faithful in a way that Alistair Darling – who leads the cross-party Better Together group – cannot.
Much of this is down to the well-worn observation that Brown retains a standing in Scotland he never really had in England. North of the border he is seen as a national heavyweight, the last of a leadership class that included the late Donald Dewar, John Smith and Robin Cook, and is therefore automatically granted a hearing. But there's more to it than that.
Whatever Brown's flaws – and even his closest friends cannot pretend he was temperamentally suited to the top job – few doubt his analytical gifts. The reason he remained in command of Labour strategy for so long was his knack for understanding and framing a political argument. With the Chinese military strategist Sun Tzu, he understands that every battle is won before it's fought. It's won by choosing the ground on which it will be fought. And this is the key contribution Brown is making to the no campaign.
He diagnosed a key error in the way the argument had been framed. It had become Scotland v Britain, with Alex Salmond and the Scottish National party arguing for Scotland and everyone else championing Britain. That, says Brown, might be fine if the entire UK electorate had a vote on 18 September. But they don't. Only Scots vote in this referendum, which means this has to be framed as a choice for Scots: which Scotland will flourish, one that retains its political ties to the other three nations of these islands or one that severs those links?
It's such a simple point, it seems extraordinary anyone had to make it. But Brown is right. When David Cameron delivered his big speech on the topic in February, not only did he do it in London, he rested his case on why the union had been good for Britain. That answered the wrong question. Given the electorate involved, the only question that matters is: is the union good for Scotland? Framed like this, every issue looks different. Take the vexed business of currency. Brown reckons George Osborne walked straight into a nationalist trap when he declared that an independent Scotland would not be allowed to keep the pound: it was London at war with Edinburgh, Britain bullying Scotland.
The right way to argue it, says Brown, is to ask what's best for Scotland: to use the currency of a country you've just left and whose rules you no longer have any say over or to retain your seat at the table, with some control over your own money. The former would be a "semi-colonial relationship", says Brown, Scotland using a currency shaped by officials in faraway London. Framed like that, it's suddenly Brown who's putting Scottish interests first and, oddly, Salmond who's left defending a supine relationship to London.
The way Brown describes it, the union is no longer an imperial hangover that represses Scotland but a neat set-up for distinct and proud nations to club together, sharing resources and pooling risks. That arrangement has served Scotland rather well: why on earth would you throw it all away?
The nationalists have an answer, of course they do. But Brown's version makes it a much harder question. Now other no campaigners are following his lead, adopting the frame he constructed. On the ground, among Labour's core vote, it seems to be working; some detect a stalling in momentum for Yes. They all laughed when Brown accidentally claimed to have saved the world. But, who knows, he might just save the union.
Tuesday 10 December 2013
David Moyes, just like John Major, is destined to fail
Sport is no different from politics. There is a syndrome that means it's all but impossible for one star to follow another
Manchester United manager David Moyes is discovering how hard it is to follow a predecessor of star quality Photograph: Dave Thompson/PA
You don't have to be a football fan to understand the trouble with David Moyes. Anyone familiar with the highest reaches of politics will recognise his predicament immediately. For those who turn rarely to the back pages, Moyes is in his first season as the manager of Manchester United. He inherited a team that had just won yet another title as Premier League champions, but under him they are struggling. Now ninth in the league, they are a full 13 points off the top spot. What's more, Moyes has broken a few awkward records. Under him, the team have lost at home to Everton (his old club) for the first time in 21 years and on Saturday lost to Newcastle at Old Trafford for the first time since 1972. Tonight another unwanted feat threatens. If they lose to the Ukrainian team Shakhtar Donetsk, it will be the first time United have suffered three successive home defeats in 50 years.
Watch Moyes attempt to explain these results, or defend his performance, in a post-match interview or press conference and, if you're a political anorak, you instantly think of one man: John Major. Or, if you're an American, perhaps the first George Bush. For what you are witnessing is a classic case of a syndrome that recurs in politics: the pale successor fated to follow a charismatic leader and forever doomed by the comparison.
Major may be earning some late kudos and revision of his reputation now, but while prime minister he was in the permanent shadow of his predecessor, Margaret Thatcher. Bush the elder was always going to be dull after the man who went before him, Ronald Reagan. So it is with Moyes, who was given the hardest possible act to follow – inheriting from one of the footballing greats, Sir Alex Ferguson.
It's a pattern that recurs with near-universal regularity. Tony Blair was prime minister for 10 years; Gordon Brown never hit the same heights and only managed three. Same with Jean Chrétien of Canada and his luckless successor Paul Martin. Or, fitting for this day, consider the case of Thabo Mbeki whose destiny was to be the man who took over from Nelson Mandela and so was all but preordained to be a disappointment.
It's as if an almost Newtonian law applies: the charisma of a leader exists in inverse proportion to the charisma of his or her predecessor. Moyes is only the latest proof.
What could explain the syndrome? Does nature abhor one star following another in immediate succession?
One theory suggests itself, though it draws more from psychology than physics. Note the role, direct or indirect, many of these great leaders had in choosing their successors. Could it be that some part of them actually wanted a lacklustre heir, all the better to enhance their own reputation? United could have had any one of the biggest, most glamorous names in football at the helm, yet Ferguson handpicked Moyes. Did Sir Alex do that to ensure he would look even better?
For this is how it works. Once the great man or woman has gone, and everything falls apart, their apparent indispensability becomes all the harder to deny. Manchester United fans look at the same players who were champions a few months ago, now faring so badly, and conclude: Ferguson was the reason we won.
If that was his unconscious purpose in picking the former Everton boss, then Sir Alex chose very wisely. And Moyes can comfort himself that, in this regard at least – like Major, Bush, Brown and so many others before him – he's doing his job perfectly.
Tuesday 30 April 2013
Dodgy Academic Papers - the link between Austerity and MMR
Both sagas have their roots in dodgy academic papers, the agenda-pushing press and politicians – and willing believers
A measles outbreak in Swansea has affected 900 people. Photograph: Alamy
Dodgy research pushed by publicity-happy academics. False claims burnished into golden truths by irresponsible newspapers, apparently trying their hardest to manufacture a panic. Finally, the repercussions: bad decisions and, years later, huge worries about the harm posed to the public.
I'm describing the MMR scandal, the story of how one paper published in a top medical journal prompted a mass scare about a possible link between the triple jab and autism, and led to around one million children being deprived of full vaccinations against measles, mumps and rubella. It's been in the news again this week, following a measles outbreak in Swansea affecting 900 people, and worries that London may be next.
Yet listening to the radio discussions, a feeling nagged at me. Didn't this saga, with its origins going back more than a decade, sound similar to a more recent episode in a different field – the economics of austerity? Over the past fortnight, an academic paper regularly used by George Osborne to justify his cuts, public-sector redundancies and tax hikes has also been exposed as riddled with errors and dubious statistics.
At first, I'll admit, the comparison felt like too much of a stretch. On the one hand, there was Andrew Wakefield, the MMR heretic whose image would regularly flicker up on the 10 O'Clock News; on the other, there was Carmen Reinhart and Ken Rogoff, two Harvard economists of great renown – but hardly box-office. Wakefield was struck off for malpractice; Reinhart and Rogoff are guilty of no such breaches and their book on banking crises, This Time Is Different, will be considered a classic. MMR was a scare foisted on New Labour (remember those stories about whether baby Leo Blair had been injected?), which it had to defuse; this coalition has pushed austerity. The MMR debate boiled down to a question raised by every parent: should I vaccinate my child? The arguments about austerity can't be rendered in personal terms.
So much for the obvious caveats (there's one more, which I'll come to later). Yet whenever I raised the comparison with colleagues or others who had watched the cuts debate, nearly all saw the parallels. At the root of both sagas lies research, heavily contested then and now discredited, but given excessive credibility by outsiders in politics or the press – and used to push distinct agendas. That public-health scare from the turn of the noughties, and this public-finance panic from the start of this decade share common themes. Combined, we could call these lessons: how to flog a terrible idea.
Lesson 1: Have a suspicious public
For a terrible idea to take flight, the public must be in a receptive mood. The MMR scare was preceded by the mad-cow scandal, in which the government had kept insisting that British beef was safe. The arguments over austerity followed on the great bust of 2007-8 – and hadn't then-prime minister Gordon Brown promised to abolish boom and bust? In both cases, the press had been gulled by the official expertise. Do you remember those spreads in the Daily Mail about the coming chaos at RBS? No, I don't either.
Lesson 2: Bad ideas sound like common sense
The press had trusted establishment scientists and the economic technocrats; by the time MMR and the banking bust came along there was a market for policies that sounded easy to understand. So David Cameron really could get away likening the British economy to a household that had maxed out its credit card. It was nonsense, of course, but it was easy to understand nonsense. Unlike Bloomsbury-style Keynesianism, which was much more sensible amid a slump but was treated as far-out science to do with money supplies and fiscal multipliers.
Lesson 3: Bad ideas need strong supporters
My memories of the MMR story were to do with Wakefield. But when academics Tammy Speers and Justin Lewis looked at the news stories, they found that Wakefield got fewer mentions than baby Leo. The scare about MMR was never centred around a paper in the Lancet; rather, the research was recruited into the service of a general scare. That goes much more so for austerity, where the government here and the European troika used available research to push the cause of cuts and lay-offs. The Reinhart-Rogoff paper was published two years after Osborne had adopted austerity as his policy; academia provided justification, but they didn't change minds. And austerity has been fully cloaked in the language of morality: of debt being a bad thing, of southern Europeans being feckless.
The final caveat is: pure science lays much more emphasis on reproducing tests to see if the results bear up; macroeconomists can't run big experiments on entire countries to see which policies work, meaning that fights in the dismal science are necessarily more ideological (however disguised) than methodological. Yet so many economists hanker after hard science status there's even a term for it: "physics envy". Indeed, that key finding from Reinhart-Rogoff – that countries with debt of more than 90% of their GDP experience sharply slower growth – sounds like something you'd hear at the back of a school lab. But it isn't a rule at all: high debt can mean slow growth, but obviously so too can slow growth produce high debt. Still, whether MMR or austerity, the bottom line in both is that plausible science can make bad decisions seem sensible. When the science no longer seems implausible, the game is up. Wakefield was rumbled; slowly but surely the same is happening to the austerity-mongers.
Friday 12 April 2013
Wednesday 16 January 2013
Ministers accused of exploiting royal veto to block embarrassing legislation
Bills on Iraq, Rhodesia and hereditary titles were blocked by Queen - on advice of ministers who had political objections
Tam Dalyell, the
sponsor of a 1999 bill that aimed to give MPs a vote on military action
against Saddam Hussein, said he is 'incandescent and angry' that it was
blocked by the Queen under apparent influence from Tony Blair’s
government. Photograph: Murdo Macleod
Government ministers have exploited the royal family's secretive
power to veto new laws as a way to quell politically embarrassing
backbench rebellions, it was claimed on Tuesday.
Tam Dalyell, the sponsor of a 1999 parliamentary bill that aimed to give MPs a vote on military action against Saddam Hussein, said he is "incandescent and angry" that it was blocked by the Queen under apparent influence from Tony Blair's government. It also emerged that Harold Wilson used the Queen's power to kill off politically embarrassing bills about Zimbabwe and peerages.
MPs and republicans have complained the little-known power to veto or consent to new legislation grants the Queen and Prince Charles unwarranted powers and is undemocratic. Detail about its application is only now emerging as a result of a freedom of information campaign by a legal scholar, and the Guardian revealed on Monday at least 39 different laws have been subject to the secretive royal consent arrangement.
Dalyall's military actions against Iraq bill would have given parliament sole authority to sanction strikes on Iraq, and he alleged Blair's government told Buckingham Palace the Queen should withhold her consent. The bill was introduced a month after the US and UK operation Desert Fox air strikes against Iraq.
"The issue as far as I am concerned is that Buckingham Palace was used by Downing Street," said Dalyell. "I don't blame the palace … this was entirely the handiwork of Downing Street. It was about snuffing out a measure they feared would have a lot of support. It was a sneaky way of avoiding an issue that should have come before the House of Commons."
Dalyell said he had been contacted by one of the Queen's aides following the blocking of his backbench bill and he understands the government instructed the Queen to refuse consent in order to kill off a proposal that was gaining Labour support among MPs opposed to military action in Iraq.
That appears to be supported by a Buckingham Palace statement on the application of the veto, which said: "The sovereign has not refused to consent to any bill affecting crown interests unless advised to do so by ministers."
A Cabinet Office spokesman said it would not "discuss any discussions between us and the royal palaces". Alastair Campbell, the prime minister's communications adviser at the time the bill was quashed, said he could not recall the case.
Dalyell said he was concerned that the power could be used to prevent parliament from intervening in future war plans through private members' bills.
"This could happen again," he said. "The palace has to be very careful not to do the government's dirty work. They blocked my bill because the government thought they were threatened in the House of Commons. This is relevant today. I was angry then and I still am."
At least two other bills have been blocked by the Queen, it emerged , both on the advice of ministers who had political objections. The first came in 1964 in the case of the titles (abolition) bill, which was embarrassing to Harold Wilson's newly elected Labour government, which had a slender majority and did not want any legislative debate about the desirability of titles such as lordships and damehoods.
The other was the Rhodesia independence bill of 1969 which sought autonomy for the African colony which Wilson's government was opposed to while it was in a state of rebellion. The examples were identified by Professor Rodney Brazier, a legal academic and informal constitutional adviser to the Queen's private secretary, in an academic paper published in the Cambridge Law Journal in 2007.
Chloe Smith, the Cabinet Office minister, said the Queen and Prince Charles had not vetoed any bills in the past decade, but it remains unknown which, if any bills, have been altered during the consent process. MPs and peers have been calling for greater transparency over the application of the royal powers of consent, but Smith this week told parliament the government would not publish a full account of which bills have been subject to royal consent because it would be too expensive.
Tam Dalyell, the sponsor of a 1999 parliamentary bill that aimed to give MPs a vote on military action against Saddam Hussein, said he is "incandescent and angry" that it was blocked by the Queen under apparent influence from Tony Blair's government. It also emerged that Harold Wilson used the Queen's power to kill off politically embarrassing bills about Zimbabwe and peerages.
MPs and republicans have complained the little-known power to veto or consent to new legislation grants the Queen and Prince Charles unwarranted powers and is undemocratic. Detail about its application is only now emerging as a result of a freedom of information campaign by a legal scholar, and the Guardian revealed on Monday at least 39 different laws have been subject to the secretive royal consent arrangement.
Dalyall's military actions against Iraq bill would have given parliament sole authority to sanction strikes on Iraq, and he alleged Blair's government told Buckingham Palace the Queen should withhold her consent. The bill was introduced a month after the US and UK operation Desert Fox air strikes against Iraq.
"The issue as far as I am concerned is that Buckingham Palace was used by Downing Street," said Dalyell. "I don't blame the palace … this was entirely the handiwork of Downing Street. It was about snuffing out a measure they feared would have a lot of support. It was a sneaky way of avoiding an issue that should have come before the House of Commons."
Dalyell said he had been contacted by one of the Queen's aides following the blocking of his backbench bill and he understands the government instructed the Queen to refuse consent in order to kill off a proposal that was gaining Labour support among MPs opposed to military action in Iraq.
That appears to be supported by a Buckingham Palace statement on the application of the veto, which said: "The sovereign has not refused to consent to any bill affecting crown interests unless advised to do so by ministers."
A Cabinet Office spokesman said it would not "discuss any discussions between us and the royal palaces". Alastair Campbell, the prime minister's communications adviser at the time the bill was quashed, said he could not recall the case.
Dalyell said he was concerned that the power could be used to prevent parliament from intervening in future war plans through private members' bills.
"This could happen again," he said. "The palace has to be very careful not to do the government's dirty work. They blocked my bill because the government thought they were threatened in the House of Commons. This is relevant today. I was angry then and I still am."
At least two other bills have been blocked by the Queen, it emerged , both on the advice of ministers who had political objections. The first came in 1964 in the case of the titles (abolition) bill, which was embarrassing to Harold Wilson's newly elected Labour government, which had a slender majority and did not want any legislative debate about the desirability of titles such as lordships and damehoods.
The other was the Rhodesia independence bill of 1969 which sought autonomy for the African colony which Wilson's government was opposed to while it was in a state of rebellion. The examples were identified by Professor Rodney Brazier, a legal academic and informal constitutional adviser to the Queen's private secretary, in an academic paper published in the Cambridge Law Journal in 2007.
Chloe Smith, the Cabinet Office minister, said the Queen and Prince Charles had not vetoed any bills in the past decade, but it remains unknown which, if any bills, have been altered during the consent process. MPs and peers have been calling for greater transparency over the application of the royal powers of consent, but Smith this week told parliament the government would not publish a full account of which bills have been subject to royal consent because it would be too expensive.
Wednesday 31 October 2012
Campaigners report Tony Blair's office over use of unpaid interns
Graduate Fog passes evidence of possible minimum wage infractions to HM Revenue and Customs
Tony Blair's private
office says it supports its unpaid interns by paying travel and lunch
expenses. Photograph: Antony Dickson/AFP/Getty Images
Tony Blair's private office may face investigation by tax authorities for breach of national minimum wage laws over the use of unpaid interns.
The Office of Tony Blair, which helps administrate the former prime minister's consultancy and diplomatic interests, confirmed that despite its non-charitable status it uses unpaid interns for three months at a time.
Evidence of possible minimum wage infractions, gathered by the careers website Graduate Fog has been passed to HM Revenue and Customs (HMRC).
This includes an email from Blair's office setting out tasks which interns are expected to undertake during the full time role, including answering phones, managing meeting rooms and sorting and sending the post.
Recent employment tribunal rulings have used evidence such as set tasks and responsibilities as one way to differentiate between volunteer and paid worker status.
In a statement to the Guardian, Blair's office said that all its interns were volunteers and that they supported them by paying travel and lunch expenses.
One would-be intern has complained that despite passing an interview process, which included a timed 90 minute exam, he was rejected by the office because he was unable to work unpaid for the full five days.
When the graduate asked office staff if he could reduce his time from four to five days a week so he could continue to support himself financially with a part-time job, Blair's office eventually wrote back to say the position had been filled by another intern.
Writing to confirm that "four days a week availability did not suit your needs" office staff replied: "Sorry for not getting back to you sooner but the role has now been filled by someone who was available for the full 5 days."
Speaking to the Guardian, the 22-year-old, who did not want to be named, said: "From what I can tell, they are trying to staff the office with that classic, rotate your interns; get the interns to do the office admin, don't pay them a thing and, after three months, kick them out and get someone else in. That's what it sounded like to me."
"Through the minimum wage legislation," he said, Blair "had given people, young people especially ... a decent wage. But he's not even providing it for his own business. It's completely outrageous. I can't think of anything more two-faced to be honest."
Blair, who has made millions since departing as prime minister in 2007, operates numerous charities, diplomatic initiatives and business consultancies including Tony Blair Associates.
After an interview with Blair this summer, the Financial Times estimated his annual income at £20m.
It is understood that he continues to draw on a public allowance worth £110,000 per annum to support his good works and a prime ministerial pension of £70,000.
HMRC said they were unable to specifically comment on individual cases but gave a statement confirming they always act on allegations passed to them.
"We ensure that employers comply with the national minimum wage rules across the board. Where we have reason to believe the rules are being abused we will investigate. We always act on allegations of NMW abuse."
In a statement Blair's office said they value their interns "very highly".
"The Office of Tony Blair is not a charity," they confirmed. "Each internship lasts for around three months and is designed to give young people valuable experience in a high profile and fast moving work environment," they said adding, "our interns are volunteers."
A spokesperson for the London School of Economics, who previously advertised unpaid internships for Blair's profit making businesses, said they no longer do so.
"LSE is fully compliant with its legal obligations in relation to internships; furthermore we support the advice on internships issued by the UCU and NUS in 2011.
"LSE Careers is not advertising opportunities of any kind in the office of Tony Blair or with Tony Blair Associates and does not work with any third parties that facilitate unpaid internships."
Tanya de Grunwald, founder of Graduate Fog said: "Too many employers have convinced themselves that experience, plus a few quid for a sandwich and the bus fare, is an acceptable form of payment – we just never expected one of those employers to be the man who introduced the minimum wage law.
"Perhaps hanging out with some of the richest people on the planet has made it hard for Blair to remember how it feels to struggle to make ends meet every month on a meagre wage. What's more, for a man so obsessed with his legacy, it is astonishing that he seems to have 'sold out' over one of the few things he is remembered fondly for."
The Office of Tony Blair, which helps administrate the former prime minister's consultancy and diplomatic interests, confirmed that despite its non-charitable status it uses unpaid interns for three months at a time.
Evidence of possible minimum wage infractions, gathered by the careers website Graduate Fog has been passed to HM Revenue and Customs (HMRC).
This includes an email from Blair's office setting out tasks which interns are expected to undertake during the full time role, including answering phones, managing meeting rooms and sorting and sending the post.
Recent employment tribunal rulings have used evidence such as set tasks and responsibilities as one way to differentiate between volunteer and paid worker status.
In a statement to the Guardian, Blair's office said that all its interns were volunteers and that they supported them by paying travel and lunch expenses.
One would-be intern has complained that despite passing an interview process, which included a timed 90 minute exam, he was rejected by the office because he was unable to work unpaid for the full five days.
When the graduate asked office staff if he could reduce his time from four to five days a week so he could continue to support himself financially with a part-time job, Blair's office eventually wrote back to say the position had been filled by another intern.
Writing to confirm that "four days a week availability did not suit your needs" office staff replied: "Sorry for not getting back to you sooner but the role has now been filled by someone who was available for the full 5 days."
Speaking to the Guardian, the 22-year-old, who did not want to be named, said: "From what I can tell, they are trying to staff the office with that classic, rotate your interns; get the interns to do the office admin, don't pay them a thing and, after three months, kick them out and get someone else in. That's what it sounded like to me."
"Through the minimum wage legislation," he said, Blair "had given people, young people especially ... a decent wage. But he's not even providing it for his own business. It's completely outrageous. I can't think of anything more two-faced to be honest."
Blair, who has made millions since departing as prime minister in 2007, operates numerous charities, diplomatic initiatives and business consultancies including Tony Blair Associates.
After an interview with Blair this summer, the Financial Times estimated his annual income at £20m.
It is understood that he continues to draw on a public allowance worth £110,000 per annum to support his good works and a prime ministerial pension of £70,000.
HMRC said they were unable to specifically comment on individual cases but gave a statement confirming they always act on allegations passed to them.
"We ensure that employers comply with the national minimum wage rules across the board. Where we have reason to believe the rules are being abused we will investigate. We always act on allegations of NMW abuse."
In a statement Blair's office said they value their interns "very highly".
"The Office of Tony Blair is not a charity," they confirmed. "Each internship lasts for around three months and is designed to give young people valuable experience in a high profile and fast moving work environment," they said adding, "our interns are volunteers."
A spokesperson for the London School of Economics, who previously advertised unpaid internships for Blair's profit making businesses, said they no longer do so.
"LSE is fully compliant with its legal obligations in relation to internships; furthermore we support the advice on internships issued by the UCU and NUS in 2011.
"LSE Careers is not advertising opportunities of any kind in the office of Tony Blair or with Tony Blair Associates and does not work with any third parties that facilitate unpaid internships."
Tanya de Grunwald, founder of Graduate Fog said: "Too many employers have convinced themselves that experience, plus a few quid for a sandwich and the bus fare, is an acceptable form of payment – we just never expected one of those employers to be the man who introduced the minimum wage law.
"Perhaps hanging out with some of the richest people on the planet has made it hard for Blair to remember how it feels to struggle to make ends meet every month on a meagre wage. What's more, for a man so obsessed with his legacy, it is astonishing that he seems to have 'sold out' over one of the few things he is remembered fondly for."
Tuesday 4 September 2012
We're one crucial step closer to seeing Tony Blair at The Hague
Desmond Tutu has helped us see the true nature of what the former prime minister did to Iraq and increased pressure for a prosecution
Tony Blair arrives at the Royal Courts of Justice in London to give evidence on media ethics to the Leveson inquiry in May 2012. Photograph: Dan Kitwood/Getty Images
For years it seems impregnable, then suddenly the citadel collapses. An ideology, a fact, a regime appears fixed, unshakeable, almost geological. Then an inch of mortar falls, and the stonework begins to slide. Something of this kind happened over the weekend.
When Desmond Tutu wrote that Tony Blair should be treading the path to The Hague, he de-normalised what Blair has done. Tutu broke the protocol of power – the implicit accord between those who flit from one grand meeting to another – and named his crime. I expect that Blair will never recover from it.
The offence is known by two names in international law: the crime of aggression and acrime against peace. It is defined by the Nuremberg principles as the "planning, preparation, initiation or waging of a war of aggression". This means a war fought for a purpose other than self-defence: in other words outwith articles 33 and 51 of the UN Charter.
That the invasion of Iraq falls into this category looks indisputable. Blair's cabinet ministers knew it, and told him so. His attorney general warned that there were just three ways in which it could be legally justified: "self-defence, humanitarian intervention, or UN security council authorisation. The first and second could not be the base in this case." Blair tried and failed to obtain the third.
His foreign secretary, Jack Straw, told Blair that for the war to be legal, "i) there must be an armed attack upon a state or such an attack must be imminent; ii) the use of force must be necessary and other means to reverse/avert the attack must be unavailable; iii) the acts in self-defence must be proportionate and strictly confined to the object of stopping the attack." None of these conditions were met. The Cabinet Office told him: "A legal justification for invasion would be needed. Subject to law officers' advice, none currently exists."
Without legal justification, the attack on Iraq was an act of mass murder. It caused the deaths of between 100,000 and a million people, and ranks among the greatest crimes the world has ever seen. That Blair and his ministers still saunter among us, gathering money wherever they go, is a withering indictment of a one-sided system of international justice: a system whose hypocrisies Tutu has exposed.
Blair's diminishing band of apologists cling to two desperate justifications. The first is that the war was automatically authorised by a prior UN resolution, 1441. But when it was discussed in the security council, both the American and British ambassadors insisted that 1441 did not authorise the use of force. The UK representative stated that "there is no 'automaticity' in this resolution. If there is a further Iraqi breach of its disarmament obligations, the matter will return to the council for discussion as required in paragraph 12." Two months later, in January 2003, the attorney general reminded Blair that "resolution 1441 does not authorise the use of military force without a further determination by the security council".
Yet when Blair ran out of options, he and his lieutenants began arguing that 1441 authorised their war. They are still at it: on Sunday, Lord Falconer tried it out on Radio4. Perhaps he had forgotten that it has been thoroughly discredited.
The second justification, attempted again by Blair this weekend, is that there was a moral case for invading Iraq. Yes, there was one. There was also a moral case for not invading Iraq, and this case was stronger.
But a moral case (and who has launched an aggressive war in modern times without claiming to possess one?) does not provide a legal basis. Nor was it the motivation for the attack. In September 2000, before they took office, a project run by future members of the Bush administration – including Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld and Paul Wolfowitz – produced a report which said the following: "While the unresolved conflict with Iraq provides the immediate justification, the need for a substantial American force presence in the Gulf transcends the issue of the regime of Saddam Hussein." Their purpose, they revealed, was "maintaining American military pre-eminence". The motivation for deposing Saddam Hussein was no more moral than the motivation for arming and funding him, two decades before.
But while the case against Blair is strong, the means are weak. Twenty-nine people have been indicted in the international criminal court, and all of them are African. (Suspects in the Balkans have been indicted by a different tribunal). There's a reason for this. Until 2018 at the earliest, the court can prosecute crimes committed during the course of an illegal war, but not the crime of launching that war.
Should we be surprised? Though the Nuremberg tribunal described aggression as "the supreme international crime", several powerful states guiltily resisted its adoption. At length, in 2010, they agreed that the court would have jurisdiction over aggression, but not until 2018 or thereafter. Though the offence has been recognised in international law for 67 years, the international criminal court (unlike the Rwanda and Yugoslavia tribunals, which hear cases from before they were established) will be able to try only crimes of aggression committed beyond that date.
The other possibility is a prosecution in one of the states (there are at least 25) which have incorporated the crime of aggression into their own laws. Perhaps Blair's lawyers are now working through the list and cancelling a few speaking gigs.
That the prospect of prosecution currently looks remote makes it all the more important that the crime is not forgotten. To this end, in 2010 I set up a bounty fund –www.arrestblair.org – to promote peaceful citizens' arrests of the former prime minister. People contribute to the fund, a quarter of which is paid out to anyone who makes an attempt which meets the rules. With our fourth payment last week, we've now disbursed more than £10,000. Our aim is the same as Tutu's: to de-normalise an act of mass murder, to keep it in the public mind and to maintain the pressure for a prosecution.
That looked, until this weekend, like an almost impossible prospect. But when the masonry begins to crack, impossible hopes can become first plausible, then inexorable. Blair will now find himself shut out of places where he was once welcome. One day he may find himself shut in.
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