Yes, the Tories are deceitful – but I take my hat off to their political sorcery

Owen Jones in The Guardian

David Cameron’s EU negotiation is a sham. He knows it, and so do the ardent Tory proponents of Brexit. The prime minister understands that a considerable source of anti-EU hostility is motivated, above all else, by opposition to immigration. And so he conducts a charade, pledging to satisfy a lust to close British borders by compelling EU migrants to work in Britain for four years before they can receive in-work benefits.

He didn’t need Sir Stephen Nickell, a senior official at the Office for Budget Responsibility, to tell MPs that the impact of such a move would be “not much”. No impartial source has offered evidence suggesting that it would work, or that the vast majority of migrants are attracted by anything other than work and a fondness for Britain. This is politics as illusion, with Cameron as chief illusionist, and the magician George Osborne completing the circus troupe.

Yes, the EU is examining a proposal for an “emergency brake” on migrants entering Britain under certain circumstances. But this is something for which Cameron reportedly has little passion, and he is redoubling his efforts to secure a four-year limit.

As one EU diplomat told the Financial Times: “The reason Cameron hasn’t gone for this must be that the problem that he has in Britain is mainly one of perception, not of real economic impact.” And that is what matters to an illusionist: how something is perceived, rather than how it actually is.

For the Tories, immigration works in their favour whatever happens – or at least until their opponents come up with a convincing message. They have set an arbitrary immigration limit that has been repeatedly – and devastatingly – missed. Its main achievement is to further undermine the public’s faith in politicians delivering what they promise. Nonetheless, if immigration remains high it means an issue on which the left is poorly trusted remains a political priority in the minds of millions. Sure, it risks boosting the currently flagging Ukip, but though Nigel Farage’s diminished purple army is an imprecise weapon it certainly inflicts significant damage on the Tories’ Labour opponents. If immigration decreases, then the Tories can claim success and warn that the opposition would reopen the gates.

Illusions are what the Tories excel at. They back Labour’s spending – down to the last penny – when in opposition, then in government claim that it was financial extravagance that plunged the country into economic chaos. The crash may have originated in Britain’s financial hub, a sector whose lavish donations keep the Conservatives financially afloat, but Cameron and Osborne skilfully transformed a crisis of the market into a crisis caused by state spending. A failing of laissez-faire economics was spun into a historic opportunity to scale back the state. Like immigration, the colossal failure to close the deficit in a single parliament – as Osborne had solemnly promised – became a success, ensuring that an issue on which Labour was poorly trusted remained salient.

An alleged scandal involving Tory private donors became an opportunity to introduce a lobbying bill that left corporate titans alone, instead focusing on NGOs that might scrutinise the Tories’ record. And so on.

This is written not as a complaint; it is partly a love letter. The Tories are very good at politics – even if it is a strategy soaked in dishonesty and deceit – and that is why they are the world’s most successful electoral force. What the Conservatives understand is that politics is as much about sentiments and emotions as anything else. Labour went into the last general election with arguably more policies than any other opposition in modern history. But there was no vision or coherent message to bring them together: a ragtag of policies thrown into the ether, as though Which? magazine had become a political party.

Voters are not political geeks, like me, but people with lives to lead – and they do not spend their time poring over the details of individual policies. The Tories offered clear, simple messages that had emotional resonance, rather than Labour’s blend of stale technocracy and political consumerism. Labour’s timid offer for the poorest (spare a moment for the £8 minimum wage) and lack of anything to say to those in the increasingly insecure middle was trumped by a comfort blanket of security and stability.

Polling shows that the gap between public perceptions and reality is very wide indeed, and in a manner that can only benefit the right. One poll found that the public believed benefits fraud was 34 times greater than was actually the case; immigration was double its real level; and teenage pregnancy was 25 times higher than official estimates. That’s not because the public has been bombarded with, say, assertions from the media and politicians that benefit fraud accounts for £24 of every £100 claimed rather than just 70p. Instead, they have been subjected to a regular diet of emotionally compelling stories: of extreme examples of benefit fraudsters with multiple children and luxurious lifestyles.

It would be easier to assail the cold, disingenuous Machiavellianism that constitutes the Tories’ political strategy. The Tories are a merry band of illusionists, excelling at distorting perceptions rather than dealing in actual realities. To believe that politics is conducted solely at the level of reason is to lose. This is what the embattled opposition to the Tories has to learn. It needs to appeal to people’s emotions, their hopes as well as their insecurities; to take crises and ably turn them to their advantage, rather than being tripped or even consumed by them; to have a coherent message that can be easily translated into a pub conversation as well as one conducted on the doorstep.

The opposition doesn’t need to copy the dishonesty and deceit of the Tories. But it does need to learn from them if Labour is to succeed again.

The work of a great teacher is for life

Michael Henderson in The Telegraph

Teachers, as John Osborne observed, are underpaid as child-minders, and overpaid as educators. DH Lawrence, who, like many writers, was a teacher, knew even more keenly the difficulty of imparting knowledge both to young people who are not particularly interested and to those who are. Education is a significant feature of his twinned novels, The Rainbow and Women in Love.

The wisest teachers understand that the best work they do may not be apparent for many years – decades, even. From the sunlit meadows of middle age, it is possible to recall those who taught us in our youth, and recognise the debt we owe them. But it would be a very precocious teenager who could say as much.

Getting good grades is important, but it is not the only important thing, and ultimately it is not the most important thing. Our lives are shaped by other forces, and so it is only with the passing of the years that we acknowledge the value of those teachers who opened doors, though we did not at the time recognise their many acts of kindness.

Last month, our school held a memorial service for an English teacher who opened doors aplenty, not least in the summer months when he captained a cricket team, the Vagabonds, that wandered around the villages of Derbyshire. Michael Charlesworth was a liberal, tolerant man who knew that our language was our greatest gift. He was also a superb director of plays, and a bit of a mummer himself.

Although he retired a quarter of a century ago, the chapel was full of people who had travelled from far and wide to celebrate his life. There were proper hymns, well sung, and Shakespeare made his customary appearance before Sir Christopher Frayling, one of Mike’s old boys, presented an address on behalf of us all. Then we recessed to the organ voluntary – the theme tune from Match of the Day!

Most people, one hopes, had a teacher like that. A Mr Chips figure – appropriate in this case, as the great Robert Donat film of 1939 was shot at our school. The horrible modern word is “inspirational” but if your life has been touched in some way, you feel it in your blood.

Sir Chris Woodhead, who died this week, admired Lawrence. He, too, understood the difficulties of “drawing out” (from the Latin verb “educare”), but he spent most of his life trying to do just that, first in the classroom and then as head of Ofsted. That he had to put up with years of abuse from bigoted, incompetent teachers was a tribute of sorts. He told them what they needed to hear but feared to be told.

^{Christopher Woodhead visiting Davenant Foundation School in Essex in 1998}

If anybody required a reminder of just how ghastly some of these teachers were – and are – the evidence could be found on websites after Woodhead passed away. “May you rot in hell,” screamed one delightful scribbler. Consider those words, and imagine, if you can, the person who wrote them: an adult with responsibility for educating children.

Belatedly, there is recognition, even from his opponents, that Woodhead was on to something. Just as many teachers, the ones not brainwashed by the “holistic problematised pedagogies” that Woodhead liked to mock, realise that Michael Gove’s reforms are beginning to bear fruit.

Although, like every generation before, today’s pupils may have to wait years to find out how and why.

10 funniest jokes from the Edinburgh festival fringe 2014

Courtesy The Guardian

1. "I've decided to sell my Hoover… well, it was just collecting dust." – Tim Vine

2. "I've written a joke about a fat badger, but I couldn't fit it into my set." – Masai Graham

3. "Always leave them wanting more, my uncle used to say to me. Which is why he lost his job in disaster relief." – Mark Watson

4. "I was given some sudoku toilet paper. It didn't work. You could only fill it in with number 1s and number 2s." – Bec Hill

5. "I wanted to do a show about feminism. But my husband wouldn't let me." – Ria Lina

6. "Money can't buy you happiness? Well, check this out, I bought myself a Happy Meal." – Paul F Taylor

7. "Scotland had oil, but it's running out thanks to all that deep frying." – Scott Capurro

8. "I forgot my inflatable Michael Gove, which is a shame 'cause halfway through he disappears up his own arsehole." – Kevin Day

9. "I've been married for 10 years, I haven't made a decision for seven." – Jason Cook

10. "This show is about perception and perspective. But it depends how you look at it." –Felicity Ward

The psychological dominance of Mitchell Johnson

Jon Hotten in Cricinfo
How do you stop Mitchell Johnson?

Beginning a post with that question naturally implies there is now going to be some kind of an answer. Well, there won't be one here, beyond the obvious, and that is that time will stop him, as time stops them all. He bowls with the ghosts of Larwood and Thommo and Holding and all of the other terrors behind him. (My own personal nightmare? Sylvester Clarke, the brooding Grendel of The Oval, who would come and knock on the hotel room doors of opposing batsmen to let them know exactly what he was about to do.) Johnson has, in a few short months, entered the realm of men who have exerted a strange psychological dominance with the overwhelming pace of their bowling.

The compelling aspects of the Johnson story lie there, because the hold he has is not just on batsmen, it is on the collective imagination of everyone watching him bowl. As Russell Jackson observed in the Guardian newspaper this week, each Johnson spell has become event television. The thrilling news the Centurion Test brought with it was that the Ashes was no one-off: if Johnson could do his thing away from home against Test cricket's best team, then it can happen anywhere to anyone. After a single game, there are echoes of what he did to England, which was to induce a kind of deep-rooted demoralisation that extended beyond the field and into the psyche (he was not playing alone, of course, but he was a spearhead). It was as if he had pulled out a pin that held the team and organisation together, and the unit just sprang apart - injury, illness, retirement, disharmony all had their way.  - injury, illness, retirement, disharmony all had their way.

As the Cricket Australia Twitter account reported a little too gleefully - Ryan McLaren will miss the second Test with Johnson-induced concussion. There is also a run of luck that feels familiar: Dale Steyn stricken with food poisoning, Morne Morkel falling on his shoulder, and other phenomena not directly connected to Mitch but part of a general entropic slide. Just as England had players central to their strategy reaching the end of the road, so South Africa are absorbing the loss of Jacques Kallis: it's hard to think of a single player more difficult to replace. The captains of both teams happen to be left-hand openers, and Mitch is regularly decapitating both.

At the heart of all of this, as many have observed, is Johnson's pure and thrilling speed, channelled now into short and violent spells in which he bowls either full or short. This is the game reduced to its chilling basics. And yet there is mystery here too, and while unravelling it offers no answer to stopping Johnson, it may explain a little further what is causing such devastation.

The speed gun says that Johnson is bowling at speeds of up to 150kph, areas that other bowlers have touched. Because of the way in which speed guns work, deliveries of the sort that skulled Hashim Amla and Ryan McLaren registered more slowly due to where they pitched. (I'm sure that was great consolation to both players as the ball thudded into their heads.)

However, as the great Bob Woolmer revealed in his book The Art And Science Of Cricket, the nature of speed is not absolute because it is relative in the eyes of the batsman facing it. His research showed that the very best players - those who are euphemistically referred to as "seeing the ball early" - are actually reacting to a series of visual clues offered by the bowler in the moments before release.

Players who have faced Johnson speak of the sensation of the ball appearing "late" in his action, as his arm swings from behind his body. This is perhaps a combination of a couple of factors: the "clues" that Johnson offers in his run-up and delivery stride might be slightly less obvious than in other bowlers, and that his already ferocious pace is magnified by the extra micro-seconds that a batsman takes to pick the line and length of the ball (all the more impressive given that Johnson essentially only offers two lengths, and little variation on his themes).

Thus, with Mitch, the flexible nature of speed perception is working in his favour. Only the truly blessed - AB de Villiers, Kevin Pietersen et al - can play him with a little more certainty.

Pietersen was moved to tweet last week about the huge difference between 140kph and 150, just as his near-namesake Alviro was dismissed with a waft to the keeper. He said that you can "instinctively" play the wrong shot in those circumstances. What he was driving at was that Johnson offers no time for anything other than instinct, no margin to correct that first thought.

This is theory, of course. What can't be conveyed as easily is the psychological pressure that speed exerts. Players are wobbling to the crease with their minds consumed by thoughts of what he can do, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. South Africa are on a slide that will take tremendous resolution, as well as skill, to stop. In Smith they have one of Test cricket's most redoubtable men, and in de Villiers and Amla two of the most sublimely talented. It is absolutely fascinating to watch, and Mitch has done the game a great service in his phoenix-from-the-flames revival. This is cricket at its sharpest physical and psychological point.