Why I have no truck with the art of the pick-up

Pick-up artists exist to help men find sexual partners but their psychosexual babble is riddled with misogyny and bad advice

• 
• • Ally Fogg
  • guardian.co.uk, Monday 24 June 2013 11.09 BST

Studying Austin Powers at work in The Spy Who Shagged Me could do more for your sex life than a pick-up artist, says Ally Fogg. But what has worked for you? Photograph: Everett Collection/Rex Features

I blame Transformers. Many of my fellow heterosexual men appear to approach potential romantic partners as if they were those complicated robotic toys with a special hidden feature. All you need to do is turn her head just enough, raise her eyebrows, utter the secret password and woop woop woop: a siren sounds, her nipples start flashing and she instantly transforms into your own personal sex machine – Bonktamus Prime.

Having met one or two real, actual women in my time, I'm not sure they operate like that. They're rather complicated creatures, with all sorts of varied and conflicting character traits, moods, tastes, preferences, senses of humour and sexualities. It's almost like they are human beings or something.

Nonetheless an astonishingly large industry has built up online over the past decade, promising to help lonely men find the elusive sex button. It's not surprising that self-styled pick-up artists (PUAs) have found a market. They offer perfect psychosexual snake-oil, cashing in on the gullibility of the desperate. Their potions are dressed up in a frilly blanket of pseudoscience, snippets of social and evolutionary psychology, stage mentalism, neurolinguistic programming and self-referential received wisdom. It is mostly marketed through far-fetched personal testimony and miraculous anecdote. Most importantly, there are so many different models offered, so many conflicting "treatments" for low sex appeal, that unsatisfied customers can drift endlessly from one treatment to the next in search of the magic sex switch.

Nonetheless, PUAs have a few PR issues to deal with. Last week a Kickstarter appeal to fund a new PUA book came to widespread attention when it was noticed that the proposed content of the book – the collected wisdom of the Reddit community called r/seduction and in particular the contributions of a certain Mr TofuTofu – were peppered with the most gruesomely misogynistic advice. Alex Hern at the New Statesman outlined the worst of it. Kickstarter has now removed the post and apologised, saying "the project has no place on our site".

The proposed book was horrible, but even the more mundane threads on PUA forums are peppered with nastiness. The phrase "last-minute resistance" is used in discussions of how not to take no for an answer. The PUAs insist that their advice is always framed with discussion of consent and respecting a woman's right to refuse, and it is true. However that often seems to boil down to "back off until she stops screaming and then try again". The PUA typically describes consent as a final inconvenient hurdle rather than the starting blocks of any sexual event.

PUA techniques are certainly manipulative, but that in itself isn't the greatest sin. A lot of the advice is a gender-mirrored reflection of the dating advice columns that have filled women's magazines and self-help books for decades. However there is an important difference. PUAs often advocate intrusive, oppressive and sexually intimidating techniques for approaching women, on the promise that it will work on perhaps one woman in 10. Even if that were true, it would mean that nine out of 10 women are being subjected to approaches they may feel are discomfiting, harassing or downright frightening. Where is the concern about the impacts of this behaviour on the other women? Nowhere.

To be fair, there are PUAs who recognise at least some of these problems, and attempt to incorporate some basic human sensitivity. It should also be noted that there may be constructive sides to the PUA experience. Feminist writer Clarisse Thorn has documented the scene with compassion and sympathy, and notes that the community often acts as a kind of self-help and personal development network for socially awkward, shy and unhappy men – something Neil Strauss, author of The Game and original PUA guru has always advocated.

The social support networks may be a major reason why so many men claim PUA tricks have worked for them – just as many homeopathy patients insist on their own positive experiences. A parable featuring the greatest of all PUAs illustrates this well.

As I'm sure you'll recall from your classics lectures, in The Spy Who Shagged Me, the great philosopher, spy and international man of venery, Austin Powers was cast into sexual inconsequence when the evil Fat Bastard stole his mojo during an encounter with Ivana Humpalot. Ninety minutes and several dance routines later, he learned the valuable lesson that it wasn't his mojo that he was missing, but his confidence.

So my advice, for what it's worth ($49.99 to my Paypal account, as it happens) is to abandon the PUA gurus and study the master Powers at work. Things will soon be utterly shagtastic for you, baby. What advice would you share? Whether you are male or female, what has worked for you, or worked on you? Let's see if the seductive hive mind of Comment is free can put the commercial PUAs out of business once and for all.

How can we invest our trust in a government that spies on us?

We should not fear some Orwellian future state where we're subjected to total electronic scrutiny – it's our present reality

• 
• • George Monbiot
  • The Guardian, Monday 24 June 2013 20.30 BST

Bob Lambert, an undercover policeman who is alleged to have lied in court and has been accused by an MP of firebombing, was awarded an MBE in 2008 and now teaches at St Andrews University. Photograph: guardian.co.uk

'If you are a law-abiding citizen of this country, going about your business and your personal life, you have nothing to fear." That's how William Hague, the foreign secretary, responded to the revelations of mass surveillance in the US and the UK. Try telling that to Stephen Lawrence's family.

Four police officers were deployed to spy on the family and friends of the black teenager murdered by white racists. The Lawrences and the people who supported their fight for justice were law-abiding citizens going about their business. Yet undercover police were used, one of the spies now tells us, to hunt for "disinformation" and "dirt". Their purpose? "We were trying to stop the campaign in its tracks."

The two unfolding spy stories resonate powerfully with each other. One, gathered by Paul Lewis and Rob Evans, shows how police surveillance has been comprehensively perverted. Instead of defending citizens and the public realm, it has been used to protect the police from democratic scrutiny and stifle attempts to engage in politics.

The other, arising from the documents exposed by Edward Snowden, shows that the US and the UK have been involved in the mass interception of our phone calls and use of the internet. William Hague insists that we should "have confidence in the work of our intelligence agencies, and in their adherence to the law and democratic values". Why?

Here are a few of the things we have learned about undercover policing in Britain. A unit led by a policeman called Bob Lambert deployed officers to spy on peaceful activists. They adopted the identities of dead children and then infiltrated protest groups. Nine of the 11 known spies formed long-term relationships with women in the groups, in some cases (including Lambert's) fathering children with them. Then they made excuses and vanished.

They left a trail of ruined lives, fatherless children and women whose confidence and trust have been wrecked beyond repair. They have also walked away from other kinds of mayhem. On Friday we discovered that Lambert co-wrote the leaflet for which two penniless activists spent three years in the high court defending a libel action brought by McDonald's. The police never saw fit to inform the court that one of their own had been one of the authors.

Bob Lambert has been accused of using a false identity during a criminal trial. And, using parliamentary privilege, the MP Caroline Lucas alleged that he planted an incendiary device in a branch of Debenhams while acting as an agent provocateur. The device exploded, causing £300,000 of damage. Lambert denies the allegation.

Police and prosecutors also failed to disclose, during two trials of climate-change activists, that an undercover cop called Mark Kennedy had secretly taped their meetings, and that his recordings exonerated the protesters. Twenty people were falsely convicted. Those convictions were later overturned.

If the state is prepared to abuse its powers and instruments so widely and gravely in cases such as this, where there is a high risk of detection, and if it is prepared to intrude so far into people's lives that its officers live with activists and father their children, what is it not prepared to do while spying undetectably on our private correspondence?

Already we know that electronic surveillance has been used in this country for purposes other than the perennial justifications of catching terrorists, foiling foreign spies and preventing military attacks. It was deployed, for example, to spy on countries attending the G20 meeting the UK hosted in 2009. If the government does this to other states, which might have the capacity to detect its spying and which certainly have the means to object to it, what is it doing to defenceless citizens?

It looks as if William Hague may have misled parliament a fortnight ago. He claimed that "to intercept the content of any individual's communications in the UK requires a warrant signed personally by me, the home secretary, or by another secretary of state".

We now discover that these ministers can also issue general certificates, renewed every six months, which permit mass interception of the kind that GCHQ has been conducting. Among the certificates issued to GCHQ is a "global" one authorising all its operations, including the trawling of up to 600m phone calls and 39m gigabytes of electronic information a day. A million ministers, signing all day, couldn't keep up with that.

The best test of the good faith of an institution is the way it deals with past abuses. Despite two years of revelations about abusive police spying, the British government has yet to launch a full public inquiry. Bob Lambert, who ran the team, fathered a child by an innocent activist he deceived, co-wrote the McDonald's leaflet, is alleged to have lied in court and has been accused by an MP of firebombing, was awarded an MBE in 2008. He now teaches at St Andrews University, where he claims to have a background in "counter-terrorism".

The home office minister Nick Herbert has stated in parliament that it's acceptable for police officers to have sex with activists, for the sake of their "plausibility". Does this sound to you like a state in which we should invest our trust?

Talking to Sunday's Observer, a senior intelligence source expressed his or her concerns about mass surveillance. "If there was the wrong political change, it could be very dangerous. All you need is to have the wrong government in place." But it seems to me that any government prepared to subject its citizens to mass surveillance is by definition the wrong one. No one can be trusted with powers as wide and inscrutable as these.

In various forms – Conservative, New Labour, the coalition – we have had the wrong government for 30 years. Across that period its undemocratic powers have been consolidated. It has begun to form an elective dictatorship, in which the three major parties are united in their desire to create a security state; to wage unprovoked wars; to defend corporate power against democracy; to act as a doormat for the United States; to fight political dissent all the way to the bedroom and the birthing pool. There's no need to wait for the "wrong" state to arise to conclude that mass surveillance endangers liberty, pluralism and democracy. We're there already

Don't be fooled by Richard Branson's defence of Virgin trains

Richard Branson didn't like my column about his rail company – but he can't deny that taxpayers are piling up debts to subsidise his profits

• 
• • Aditya Chakrabortty
  • The Guardian, Monday 24 June 2013 20.00 BST

Richard Branson. Photograph: Bloomberg via Getty Images

The rich are different from you and me: they hire PR advisers. As night follows day, any criticism of Richard Branson will be met with a fierce counterblast from his troops. So it was last Friday, when a column in Branson's name appeared in the Guardian.

The Virgin boss was displeased with my piece on this page arguing that the hundreds of millions he and his partners made from the West Coast mainline had been handed to them by taxpayers. He wanted to rubbish the thesis, and reassure you that it simply wasn't true. As the headline on his article put it: "Hard work, not handouts, put our trains back on track." And the rather innovative way Sir Richard sought to persuade you of his case was by not addressing the main points and instead kicking up a load of sand.

First, he denied that the "serious money" to buy Northern Rock was fronted up by foreign investors. Tell that to the National Audit Office. In its May 2012 report on the sale of the Rock, the parliamentary auditors laid out the sources of the £772m paid for it. Virgin directly put up £200m; that compares with the £269m chipped in by the US fund manager Wilbur Ross and £50m from a private-equity fund based in Abu Dhabi. The remainder, reports the NAO, was a short-term bank loan "repaid using cash extracted from Northern Rock plc". How this £253m was taken out of the former building society we'll know for sure when the latest accounts are filed with Companies House, but to me it sounds a lot like the asset-stripping that was much talked about at the time. Whatever, my point stands: in the whip-round for buying the Rock, Virgin was not the major contributor.

Then there are the hundreds of millions you and I have given Virgin to run its railway. Branson's response here is particularly tortured: the facts won't allow him to deny receiving huge subsidies, but he does want to deny that our hard-earned money is what made the difference. To do that, he first makes out what a huge risk he took on with the West Coast franchise. Now, I wouldn't want to make out the pre-1997 line as some Elysian pleasure-rail. But you do have to wonder just how rickety this business venture was, given that over its 16 years of business, Virgin trains has only racked up a loss twice: in 1997 and 2006. Over that period, this tremendously precarious enterprise has yielded a pre-tax profit of £674m. The Virgin boss doth protest too much, I think; perhaps to drown out the sound of the cashtills ringing.

Finally, to the point Branson doesn't want us to discuss: the amount we've given to him. Let's go back to the report that prompted my earlier column. A group of researchers based at Manchester University's Centre for Research on Socio-Cultural Change looked at both the openly admitted subsidies (the £9bn-odd paid by us for upgrading the track used by Virgin) and the hidden handouts of train companies paying Network Rail super-low prices to use its lines. Under Railtrack, train operators used to pay £3bn a year in rail-access charges; now that figure has nearly halved to just over £1.5bn. Virgin is the third-biggest recipient of this secret subsidy, paying less in 2012 for using the track than it did in 2004. That is despite having a lovely new line to run on, which allows it to offer a more frequent and lucrative service. Without these subsidies, Branson and co would be in the red. But with them, it is taxpayers who are in the red: Network Rail has a debt of £30bn, which is growing at £5bn a year. This is money that will almost certainly have to be paid back by you and me.

I've said this before, but I have no particular grouse with Branson. I've taken Virgin flights and found them fine; I've also stood on a Virgin train from Rugby onwards, but such is life. I haven't been holding out for an invitation to Necker. But Virgin Rail is merely a player, a lobbyist and a big beneficiary of a terrible system, where Britons hand money to private companies who then claim to be running a profitable business while relying on a subsidy from us. Last week, we read about how the town of Fermanagh prepared for the upcoming G8 summit by sticking posters over its empty shopfronts to make them look bustling. Something similar is going on with the use of public money in the notionally private industry of rail: it's a Potemkin market, nothing more.

Branson's reply is part of a sector's attempt to duck this argument with the aid of bluster and selective facts. And since neither the government nor the train operators want to disrupt these secret handouts or to rip the veil away from our privatised system, it's easier for the press not to probe too deeply.

Yet poll after poll shows the public wants to take the rail network back into national ownership. That's all the more remarkable, given the lack of support from major political parties (it's left to Green MP Caroline Lucas to introduce a private-member's bill calling for renationalisation), and the vacuum in the media where serious discussion of alternatives to the current mess should be. Far easier, I guess, to have a secret £30bn debt with our names on it.

When The Gods Laugh - A short biography of Shimon Peres

If the life of Shimon Peres was a play, it would be difficult to classify. A tragedy? A comedy? A tragicomedy?

URI AVNERY

IF THE life of Shimon Peres was a play, it would be difficult to classify. A tragedy? A comedy? A tragicomedy?

For sixty years it looked as if he was under a curse of the Gods, much like the curse of Sisyphus, who was condemned to roll an immense boulder up a hill, and every time he approached his goal the rock would roll down again to the bottom.

Disclosure: our lives have run somehow on parallel lines. He is one month older than I. We both came to Palestine as boys. We have both been in political life from our teens. But there the similarity ends.

We met for the first time 60 years ago, when we were 30 years old. He was the Director General of Israel’s most important ministry, I was the publisher and editor of Israel’s most aggressive news magazine. We disliked each other on sight.

He was David Ben-Gurion’s main assistant, I was Ben-Gurion’s main enemy (so defined by his security chief.) From there our paths crossed many times, but we did not become bosom friends.

ALREADY IN his early childhood in Poland, Peres (still Persky) complained that his mates in (Jewish) school beat him up for no reason. His younger brother had to defend him.

When he came to Palestine with his family, he was sent to the legendary children’s village Ben Shemen, and joined a kibbutz. But already as a teenager his political acumen was evident. He was an instructor in a socialist youth movement. It split and most of his comrades joined the left-wing faction, which looked more young and dynamic. Peres was one of the few who remained with the ruling party, Mapai, and thereby drew the attention of the senior leaders.

He had to make a much more momentous choice in the 1948 war, a war all of us considered a life-and-death struggle. It was the decisive event in the life of our generation. Almost all the young people hastened to join the fighting units. Not Peres. Ben-Gurion sent him abroad to buy arms – a very important task, but one that could have been carried out by an older person. Peres was considered a shirker at the supreme test and was never forgiven by the 1948ers. Their contempt plagued him for decades.

At the early age of 30 Ben-Gurion appointed him director of the Defense Ministry – a huge advancement, which assured him a rapid rise to the top. And indeed, he played a major role in pushing Ben-Gurion into the 1956 Suez war, in collusion with France and Britain.

The French were struggling with the Algerian war for independence and believed that their real enemy was the Egyptian leader, Gamal Abd-al-Nasser. They got Israel to spearhead an attack to topple him. It was a complete failure.

In my opinion, the war was a political disaster for Israel. It dug the abyss separating our new state from the Arab world. But the French showed their gratitude – they rewarded Peres with the atomic reactor in Dimona.

Throughout this period, Peres was the ultimate hawk, and a central member of a group which my magazine, Haolam Hazeh, branded as “Ben-Gurion’s youth gang” – a group we suspected of plotting to assume power by undemocratic means. But before this could happen, Ben-Gurion was kicked out by the old party veterans, and Peres had no choice but to join him in political exile. They formed a new party, Rafi, Peres worked like mad, but in the end they garnered only 10 Knesset seats. Peres and the boulder were back at the bottom.

Redemption came with the Six-day War. On its eve, Rafi was invited to join a National Unity government. But the big prize was snatched by Moshe Dayan, who became Minister of Defense and a world idol. Peres remained in the shadows.

The next opportunity arose after the 1973 Yom Kippur war. Golda Meir and Dayan were pushed out by an incensed public. Peres was the obvious candidate for Prime Minister. But lo and behold, at the last minute Yitzhak Rabin appeared from nowhere and snatched the crown. Peres was left with the Defence Ministry.

The next three years were a continuous story of subversion, with Peres trying by all available means to undermine Rabin. As a part of this effort, he allowed right-wing extremists to establish the first settlement in the heart of the West Bank – Kedumim. He has rightly been called the father of the settlement movement, as he was earlier called the father of the atom bomb.

Rabin coined a phrase that stuck to him: “Tireless Backstabber”.

This chapter ended with the “dollar account”. Upon leaving his former job as ambassador in Washington, Rabin had left an open account in an American bank. At the time, that was a criminal offense, generally settled with a fine, but Rabin resigned in order to protect his wife.

It was never proved that Peres had a hand in the disclosure, though many suspected it.

AT LONG last, the way was clear. Peres assumed the leadership of the party and ran for elections. The Labor Party was bound to win, as it always had before.

But the Gods only laughed. After 44 years of continuous Labour Party dominance, in the Yishuv and the state, Peres managed to achieve the unthinkable: he lost.

Menachem Begin made peace with Egypt, with Moshe Dayan, Peres’ competitor, at his side. Soon afterwards, Begin invaded Lebanon. On the eve of that war, Peres and Rabin visited him and urged him to attack. After the war went wrong, Peres appeared at a huge peace rally and condemned the war.

In the election before that, Peres had a shattering experience. In the evening, after the ballots were closed, Peres was crowned on camera as the next Prime Minister. On the following morning, Israel woke up with Prime Minister Menachem Begin again.

The elections after that ended in a draw. For the first time Peres became Prime Minister, but only under a rotation agreement. When Shamir assumed power, Peres tried to unseat him in a dubious political plot. It failed. Rabin, caustic as ever, called it “the Dirty Exercise”.

Peres’ unpopularity reached new depths. At election rallies, people cursed him and threw tomatoes. When, at a party event, he posed the rhetorical question: “Am I a loser?” the audience shouted in unison: “Yes!”
To change his luck, he underwent a cosmetic operation to alter his hangdog look. But his lack of grace could not be remedied by a surgeon. Neither could his oratorical skills – this man, who has delivered many tens of thousands of speeches, has never expressed a truly original idea. His speeches consist entirely of political platitudes, helped along by a deep voice, the dream of every politician. 

(This, by the way, disproves to me his pretence of having read thousands of books. You cannot really read so many books without a trace of it showing up in your writing and speeches. One of his assistants once confided to me that he prepared resumes of fashionable books for him, to save him the trouble of actually reading before quoting them.) 

IN THE meantime, Peres the hawk turned into Peres the peacenik. He had a part to play in achieving the Oslo accord, but it was Rabin who garnered the glory. The same, by the way, had happened before with the daring Entebbe raid, when Peres was Minister of Defence and Rabin Prime Minister.

After Oslo, the Nobel committee was about to award the Peace Prize to Rabin and Arafat. However, immense world-wide pressure was exerted on the committee to include Peres. Since no more than three persons can share the prize, Mahmoud Abbas, who had signed the agreement with Peres, was left out.

The assassination of Rabin was a turning point for Peres. He had been standing near Rabin when the “peace song” was sung. He came down the stairs, when Yigal Amir was waiting below, the loaded pistol in his hand. The murderer let Peres pass and waited for Rabin – another crowning insult.

But, at long last, Peres had achieved his goal. He was Prime Minister. The obvious thing to do was to call immediate elections, posing as the heir of the martyred leader. He would have won by a landslide. But Peres wanted to be elected on his own merit. He postponed the elections.

The results were disastrous. Peres gave the order to assassinate Yahya Ayyash, the “engineer” who had prepared the Hamas bombs. In retaliation, the entire country blew up in a tsunami of suicide bombings. Then Peres invaded South Lebanon, a sure means to gain popularity. But something went wrong, artillery fire caused a massacre of civilians in a UN camp, and the operation came to an inglorious end. Peres lost the elections, Netanyahu came to power.

Later, when the feared Ariel Sharon was elected, Peres offered him his services. He successfully whitewashed Sharon’s bloody image in the world.

IN ALL his long political life, Peres never won an election. So he decided to give up party politics and run for president. His victory was assured, certainly against a nondescript Likud functionary like Moshe Katzav. The outcome was again a crowning insult: little Katzav won against the great Peres. (Causing some people to say: “If an election cannot be lost, Peres will lose it anyway!”)

But this time the Gods seem to have decided that enough was enough. Katzav was accused of raping his secretaries, the way was clear for Peres. He was elected.

Since then he has been celebrating. The remorseful Gods shower him with favors. The public, which detested him for decades, enveloped him with their love. International celebrities anointed him as one of the world’s great.

He could not get enough of it. Hungry for love all his life, he swallowed flattery like a barrel without a bottom. He talked endlessly about “Peace” and the “New Middle East” while doing absolutely nothing to further it. Even TV announcers smiled when they repeated his edifying phrases. In reality he served as a fig leaf for Netanyahu’s endless exercises in expansion and sabotaging peace.

The culmination came this Tuesday. Sitting alongside Netanyahu, Peres celebrated his 90th birthday (two months before the real date), surrounded by a plethora of national and international celebrities, basking in their glamour like a teenager. It cost a lot – Bill Clinton alone got half a million dollars for attending.

After all the cruelties they had inflicted on him all his life, the Gods laughed benignly.

Why are the BRICs all crumbling? Welcome to the permanent revolution

PAUL MASON in The Independent

Friday 21 June 2013

In most of the Bric countries economic rise has involved increased inequality, exacerbated corruption and failing public services - and that's just half the story

Tear gas cannot stop it. Not even when fired point blank into the faces of protesters. State censorship is powerless against it. The bloodless prose of the official media cannot encompass it. But what is it? What is the force that put a million people on the streets of Brazil on Thursday, turned Turkey’s major cities into battlefields and – even now – bubbles under from Sofia to Sarajevo?

The answer is in the detail: the self-shot videos, the jokes scrawled on handwritten signs, the ever-morphing hashtags on Twitter and the Guy Fawkes masks. Brazil’s protests may have started over the equivalent of a 5p rise in bus fares, but the chants and placards in Rio speak to something different: “We’ve come from Facebook”, “We are the social network”, and in English: “Sorry for the inconvenience, we are changing Brazil”.

The bus-fare protest in Sao Paulo involved, at first, maybe a few thousand young activists. There was CS gas, burning barricades, some Molotovs and riot shields, but never enough to stop the traffic, which flowed, surreally, past it all. When police arrested 60 people, including a prominent journalist, for possessing vinegar (to dull the sting of tear gas), it became the “Salad Revolution”. Then, last weekend, tens of thousands turned into hundreds of thousands, and the protests spread to every major town.

It’s clear, now, what it’s about. Brazil’s economic rise has been spectacular – but as in most of the so-called Bric countries it has involved increased inequality, exacerbated corruption and the prioritisation of infrastructure over public services. “Less stadiums, more hospitals,” reads one plaintive placard. The fact that the whole process was fronted by the relatively liberal and pro-poor Workers’ Party led, for a time, to acquiescence. The government sold the idea that hosting the World Cup, clearing some of the slums and pacifying the rest with heavy policing, together with a new transport system in the major cities, would complete Brazil’s emergence as a developed country.

But the World Cup is draining money from public services; the cost of the urban transport system is squeezing the lower middle class. And blatant corruption enrages a generation of people who can see it all reported on social media, even if the mainstream TV ignores it.

If this were just one explosion it would be signal enough that the economic model for the so-called emerging markets – rapid development at the cost of rising inequality – is running out of democratic headroom. But the same social forces were on the streets of Istanbul. The same grievances forced the Bulgarian government to sack its recently appointed and seemingly professionally unqualified state security chief on Wednesday.

In Turkey’s Taksim Square, as the tear gas drifted, roaming around with a microphone was a bit like being at a graduate careers fair. What do you do, I would ask. They would be always young, often female, and in perfect English reel off their professions from beneath their balaclavas: doctor, lawyer, marketing exec, shipping, architect, designer.

This too is one of the fastest developing countries on earth. And here too there was a mixture of economic grievance and concern about freedom. Some complained that, despite the growth, all the wealth was being creamed off by a corrupt elite. At the same time, the ruling AK Party, with its religious base, was seen as encouraging what the Turkish fashion writer Idil Tabanca has called “a growing unspoken air of animosity toward the modern”.

And everywhere there is protest – from Taksim and the Maracana Stadium to the Greek riots and Spanish indignados of two years ago – there is “non-lethal” policing that seems designed to turn passive bank clerks into bandanna-wearing radicals. It is striking that in both Brazil and Turkey, excessive force against peaceful demonstrators was the moment that turned a local protest into a globally significant revolt.

But the grievances, in the end, tell only half the story. It is the demographics, the technology and the zeitgeist that make the wave of current protests seem historic. Look first at the symbolism: the V for Vendetta mask is everywhere now – but it originated as the signifier of the Anonymous hacker movement. The hand-scrawled placard signifies a revolt not just against the state but against the old forms of hierarchical protest, where everybody chanted the same thing and followed leaders. In every tent camp protest I have ever been in, it is clear that the unspoken intention is to create a miniature utopia.

Velocity of information matters as much as action itself. It is striking how badly the incumbent elites in each case totally lose the information war. Whether it’s Greece, Turkey, Egypt or Brazil the unspoken truth is it is hard to gain a voice in the official media unless you are part of the in-group. This creates the mindset that drove Egyptian TV to ignore Tahrir, and Turkish TV to replace 24-hour news with cookery programmes as the fighting raged outside their studios. But it doesn’t work. People have instant access not just to the words, stills and videos coming from the streets, but to publish it themselves. As a result, when crisis hits, the volume of “peer to peer” communication – your iPhone to my Android, my tweet to your uploaded video – overwhelms any volume of information a state TV channel can put out. And when it comes to the content of the “memes” through which this generation communicates, the protesters and their allies find suddenly that everything they are saying to each other makes sense, and that everything the elite tries to say becomes risible nonsense.

In each case – from Egypt, through Greece, Spain and the Russian election protests – the revolt was already there, simmering in cyberspace. And in each case, the ultimate grievance was the difference between how life could be for the educated young, and how it actually is. They want a liberal, more equal capitalism, with more livable cities, and more personal freedom. But who will provide it?

Each time the movement subsides, the old generation’s commentators declare it dead, overhyped, romanticised in the heat of the moment. But the protests keep coming back. In 1989, we learned that people prefer individual freedom to communism. Today, in many countries, it is capitalism that is associated with cronyism, repressive force and elite politics, and until that changes, this Human Spring looks likely to continue.

The Sreesanth In All Of Us

The story of the demise of India’s angriest cricketer is the story of an average man who dreamt big, had a taste of a glamorous world, never established himself, kept fighting to stay in that world, and, in the process, threw it all away. By Shiv Visvanathan 

Posted on June 19 Wed, 2013 in Man's World India By Editor

A wise old friend watching my hysteria over the spot-fixing scandal silenced me by saying, there is a bit of Sreesanth in all of us. “What went wrong with Sree was what could go wrong with any one of us. Sreesanth is the boy next door. Only, he does not go to IIT but becomes a professional cricketer.” 

Sreesanth looks like an overgrown teenager. “Look at him,” she said, “he looks like a Malayali Dennis the Menace, impudent, scruffy and desperate for attention. Instead of a hapless Joey, who followed Dennis lovingly, Sree gets a calculating Jiju. Jiju fixes Sreesanth’s life.”

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Also read

Sreesanth - A Modern Day Valmiki

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It is not easy to be a Sreesanth. Sreesanth, like most of us, is a process, a rite of passage. He has not arrived yet. Occasionally, he gets a peck at the Holy Grail, but the next moment, he is dropped from the team. To have not yet arrived, like a Dravid, Zaheer or a Kumble has, is a painful thing. You always feel an extra desperation for a cameo role. You want to be a personality, a character, memorable beyond a game. Modest people do not have to have modest dreams. Sreesanth dreamt big. He wanted to be seen and heard. 

In cricket, substance could always do with style. Like any teenager — and remember, most Indian males are teenagers till 40 — Sreesanth enjoyed building hype around himself. He grimaced, he threw tantrums, he created a new dialect in sledging. His encounters made news. He was funky and spunky. He was a caricature of a cricketer, whose adrenaline drove his judgments. Sometimes, when your juices flow and you stand up to artful sledgers, such as Andrew Symonds, you become, even feel like a man. 

You have to watch Sreesanth’s performances from an ethological perspective. He grimaces like a gorilla, beats his chest; when he gets a wicket, he runs, screaming, across the pitch and glowers triumphantly at the batsman. It is animal aggression displayed like a tribal ritual. Of course, one has to be careful. When you encounter a bigger, more violent animal, such as Bhajji, retreat and humiliation is in order. A tear or two makes you human. 

In cricket, like in hunting, you have to go for the kill. Without victory, your antics become a distraction, a sideshow. Being a sideshow is painful when you are on stage. Off stage, you get more leeway. You are seen as entertainment; you command attention. Cricket and B-grade Bollywood have a wonderful affinity for each other. The sports pages are hand in glove with Page 3. For someone like Sree, the world of bars, night clubs and women becomes an appendage to your status as a cricketer. The distractions become the attractions. Late nights chew into your discipline. 

Time eats into sportsmen like a termite. You can be precocious at 20, not five years later. Your fans behave like accountants; they demand a list of your exploits on the field. Your team-mates shrug off the hype, they only want to kill. Suddenly, sledging is not entertainment; it is a distraction, time lost. 

It is not that you do not try. You push yourself hard, but regular results are not easy. You watch senior cricketers such as Dravid and Tendulkar rework their bodies, their styles. There is steel in their temperaments, they deliver like metronomes, and you watch with awe. You know you cannot be them, but you want to play alongside them. You realise that cricket, like character building, is hard work. Practice is a way of life for these stalwarts. 

You start keeping a diary. You promise to keep your cool. You work at it. But your temper bursts like an unwelcome pimple, when you least want it to. Worse, when success is elusive, people sense the buffoon in you. You are laughed at. Life suddenly seems unfair. 

The social world outside does not see all this. On the field, you might be a lesser player, but off the field, you are still a star, a name. Then, the other talents that you have nurtured come into play. You can sing, you have dreams of being a rock star. A film or two might enhance your world, especially if you have two nubile women cast alongside you. The romance of cinema blending with the romance of cricket is your ultimate dream. Suddenly, life and its possibilities appear like fun. It matters little if you have to produce the film yourself. 

You realise that walking the ramp, with a model in tow, is a bit like running up to bowl. Adrenaline pumps through you. The applause is heartening. Instead of drab national colours grimed in sweat, your costume smells of scent. You dance and sing, your body moves with ease and the fantasy of a new spectacle takes over. A star like Sreesanth should be twice born, once in cricket and again in film. It is heady. 

Meanwhile, you work desperately on yourself, at anger management. It just means you have to avoid brawls in public, not beat up intrusive passengers at airports. After all, you have a status to maintain. You are still Sreesanth the star, a man known to chief ministers. Shashi Tharoor, your secret hero, has called you the pride of Kerala. 

Playing for the nation is a heady experience. But then there is the magic world of IPL, part circus, part gladiatorial game, part hype. It is the greatest spectacle of all. Lalit Modi makes Barnum sound second rate. 

IPL is finance capital. Everything is a commodity. Every ball, every run is commoditised and auctioned by punters. An over can provide the earnings of a decade. The trouble with IPL is that it is ruthless. Yesterday’s stars are forgotten. You live in the instant. Everything has to be bigger, better, quicker. You live only as a spectacle, and you need spectacles in daily life. You want the best of women and entertainment. Sadly, life gets inflationary. The more you enjoy this, the less you count in the world of cricket. 

Yet, you feel good in this social world of bars and night clubs and starlets. The juices flow. Your ego inflates as people salute you. Sreesanth is still a star. You are seen as fun, even if friend Jiju helps get the women. Giving in to temptation always appears fail-safe. You cannot go wrong. Match-fixing is sinister. Spot-fixing seems like a cleverer world: a win-win world in which the punter and the fan are both happy. It is like rewriting a tiny part of the script; the integrity of cricket remains untouched. All it requires is a few coded signals. A few minutes become a lifetime investment. It reduces anxiety. Money to throw around is always welcome. Jiju and he convince each other that it is a perfect move. 

Problem is, life is full of reverse-swings. Idiot cops outsmart you. The Delhi police paint you as the artful dodger. A world collapses. One minute you are high on the game and your companion, and then cops pick you up. You think it is a mistake. You ask them to call your political friends. They seem implacable. Life as a joyride is over. You look in the mirror and the sledger has become a sleazeball. You wish time had stopped a year ago. 

Suddenly, you are dirt, contaminated stuff, an object to be analysed. You cannot huff and puff and blow your opponents away. You have destroyed other people’s fairytales. That is what no one will forgive you for. The press performs postmortems on your career. People take your world apart looking for reasons and causes. 

There is only one thing Sreesanth will not be able to forgive himself for. It is the television interview in which his mother and sister protest his innocence. He has destroyed their fairytale too. One can smell sadness like rot in the air. The dream has ended. 

Reputed firms employ criminals to steal rivals' information

Some of Britain’s most respected industries routinely employ criminals to hack, blag and steal personal information on business rivals and members of the public, according to a secret report leaked to The Independent.

The Serious Organised Crime Agency (Soca) knew six years ago that law firms, telecoms giants and insurance were hiring private investigators to break the law and further their commercial interests, the report reveals, yet the agency did next to nothing to disrupt the unlawful trade.

It is understood that one of the key hackers mentioned in the confidential Soca report admitted that 80 per cent of his client list was taken up by law firms, wealthy individuals and insurance companies. Only 20 per cent was attributed to the media, which was investigated by the Leveson Inquiry after widespread public revulsion following the phone-hacking scandal.

Soca, dubbed “Britain’s FBI”, knew six years ago that blue-chip institutions were hiring private investigators to obtain sensitive data – yet did next to nothing to disrupt the unlawful trade.

The report was privately supplied to the Leveson Inquiry into press ethics in 2012 yet the corruption in other identified industries, including the law, insurance and debt collectors, and among high-net worth individuals, was not mentioned during the public sessions or included in the final report.

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Sreesanth - Another Modern Day Valmiki

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Tom Watson, the campaigning Labour MP, said: “What is astonishing about this whole murky affair is that Soca had knowledge of massive illegal invasions of privacy in the newspaper industry – but also in the supply chains of so-called blue-chip companies.

“I believe they are sitting on physical evidence that has still not been disclosed fully to forensic investigators at the Metropolitan Police. The law should also be rigorously applied to other sectors that have got away with it.”

One of five police investigations reviewed by Soca found private detectives listening in to targets’ phone calls in real-time. The report said a “telephone interception specialist manufactured several devices which were physically attached to the target’s landline at the relevant signal box by a British Telecom-trained telecommunications engineer.”

During another police inquiry, the Soca report said officers found a document entitled “The Blagger’s Manual”, which outlined methods of accessing personal information by calling companies, banks, HM Revenue and Customs, councils, utility providers and the NHS.

“It is probably a good idea to overcome any moral hang-ups you might have about ‘snooping’ or ‘dishonesty’,” it read. “The fact is that through learning acts of technical deception, you will be performing a task which is not only of value to us or our client, but to industry as a whole.”

The Independent understands that one of the key hackers mentioned in the report has admitted that 80 per cent of his client list was taken up by law firms, wealthy individuals and insurance firms while only 20 per cent of clients were from the media.

A security source with knowledge of the report – codenamed Project Riverside – said clients who hired corrupt private investigators included:

* a major telecoms company;

* a celebrity who broadcasts to millions of people every week;

* a well-known media personality, who hired a private investigator to hack his employee’s computer as he suspected she was selling confidential information to business rivals;

* a businessman who hired hackers to obtain intelligence on rivals involved in an ultimately unsuccessful £500m corporate takeover.

A company which was owed money by property developers also hired private detectives to track down the firm’s family information, detailed transactions from four bank accounts, information from credit card statements and an itemised mobile phone bill. The company paid £14,000 for the information.

However, the most common industry employing criminal private detectives is understood to be law firms, including some of those involved in high-end matrimonial proceedings and litigators investigating fraud on behalf of private clients.

Illegal practices identified by Soca investigators went well beyond the relatively simple crime of voicemail hacking and included live phone interceptions, police corruption, computer hacking and perverting the course of justice.

Despite the widespread criminality uncovered by Project Riverside between 2006 and 2007, none of the suspects identified in the report was charged with criminal offences until after the phone-hacking scandal four years later.

Police were finally forced to act after the scandal that caused the closure of Britain’s biggest-selling newspaper, the resignation of two Scotland Yard police chiefs and the establishment of the Leveson Inquiry.

The Labour MP Keith Vaz, chairman of the Home Affairs Select Committee, said: “I am deeply concerned about these revelations. I will be seeking an explanation from Soca as to why this was not told to the Committee when we took evidence from them about the issue of private investigators.

“It is important that we establish how widespread this practice was and why no action was taken to stop what amounted to criminal activity of the worst kind.”

The former News of the World deputy editor Neil Wallis added: “Until The Independent told me about this, I had not the slightest clue of the scale of illegal information theft going on among our supposedly respectable professions. Did Lord Justice Leveson only conduct his inquiry into 20 per cent of the problem?”

The Soca report, which contains “sensitive material” that may be subject to “public-interest immunity” tests – effectively banning it from ever being published even if it were disclosed during legal proceedings – found private investigators to be experts at “developing and cultivating useful relationships” through “socialising with law enforcement personnel”. One particular method identified was to become a member of the Freemasons, which has been repeatedly linked to corruption in the police and judiciary.

Victims of computer hacking identified by Soca – who suffered eBlaster Trojan attacks which allowed private  investigators to monitor their computer usage remotely – include the former British Army intelligence officer Ian Hurst. He was hacked by private investigators working for News of the World journalists who wanted to locate Freddie Scappaticci, a member of the IRA who worked as a double-agent codenamed “Stakeknife”.

Another victim was Derek Haslam, a former Metropolitan Police officer who was persuaded by Scotland Yard to go undercover and infiltrate Southern Investigations, a private detective firm, as a “covert human intelligence source”.

A Soca spokesman said: “Soca produced a confidential report in 2008 on the issue of licensing the private investigation industry. This report remains confidential and Soca does not comment on leaked documents or specific criminal investigations. Information is shared with other partners as required.” Scotland Yard declined to comment.