Loneliness is an inevitable result of Britain's economic model

The health secretary wants adults to look after their elderly parents to combat loneliness, as Asian people do. But Jeremy Hunt is wrong on who loneliness affects, wrong on what causes it, and wrong on what's happening in Asia

• 
• • Aditya Chakrabortty
  • The Guardian, Monday 21 October 2013 20.20 BST

Living alone: Britain has seen a big rise in solo living, from 17% of all households in 1971 to 31% now. Photograph: Zave Smith/Corbis

The officials who broke down Joyce Carol Vincent's door were meant to be serving an eviction notice. Instead they found her corpse slumped on the sofa, with the light from the TV still flickering over her. By 2006, she had lain there for almost three years. Rent demands and other letters flooded the hallway; the food in the fridge had long since expired and piled around her skeleton were the presents she had just wrapped, for Christmas 2003. How Joyce died remains a mystery: there was no evidence of violence and she wasn't into drink or drugs. But the bigger question – the one that catches in your throat – is how it took three years for anyone to discover her death.

An outgoing and pretty 38-year-old, she had sisters, mates, former colleagues and ex-boyfriends. Those social circles appear to have failed her. The bedsit was part of a housing estate above the huge shopping centre in Wood Green, north London, with thousands milling about. But no neighbours reported anything amiss. Joyce's body had rotted so far it could only be identified by comparing dental records with a holiday photo of her smiling. But the stench was put down to whiffy bins, and the flies and insects swarming on the windowsills were ignored.

Even such grotesque details would ordinarily have become mere local gossip – were it not for Carol Morley, who was so disturbed by the story that she made a film about her, with a tenacity of care Joyce didn't enjoy while she was alive. Morley's 2011 drama-documentary, Dreams of a Life, shows city living as a series of weak links, forgettable friendships and single people getting by in their single housing units. By the end of it, you not only understand how a person can disappear from view; you wonder how many others suffer the same fate.

Joyce's story exemplifies the social isolation decried last Friday by Jeremy Hunt as a "national shame". It's an apt subject for a health secretary to address. Studies show that chronic loneliness wrecks one's health: pushing up stress levels, increasing blood pressure, disrupting sleep, even bringing on dementia. And, yes, it kills. The Chicago neuroscientist John Cacioppo, who has researched social seclusion for decades, has tallied up the harm posed by common health hazards. Air pollution increases your chances of dying early by 5%; obesity by 20%. Excessive loneliness pushes up your odds of an early death by 45%.

Hunt doesn't dispute those findings. Indeed, last week he brought forth some shockers of his own. Such stats should make tackling isolation a public-health priority for any government. This one, however, seems to be doing its best to increase loneliness: its bedroom tax and housing-benefit cuts are wrenching families out of their communities and driving them into other neighbourhoods, even other cities.

No surprise that this didn't elicit even a sentence from Hunt. More troubling is to see a set-piece ministerial intervention – with lobby briefings, press releases, newspaper splashes, the lot – tackle an important subject in an utterly trivial fashion.

Loneliness, if we are to believe the health secretary, is a problem that afflicts only the elderly. And it can be solved by adult children looking after their parents, with "the reverence and respect" of their Asian counterparts (who also, handily enough, make do without all that welfare-state padding). In the east, you see, "residential care is a last rather than a first option"; while westerners presumably pack their folks off to homes as joyfully as if they were checking them into spas.

Well, we shouldn't believe Jeremy Hunt, because he is wrong on all counts. Wrong on who loneliness affects, wrong on what causes it, and wrong even on what's happening in Asia.

First, surveys by the Mental Health Foundation suggest that young people are more likely to feel lonely than older people. That fits with the other evidence. Britain has seen a big rise in people living alone, from 17% of all households in 1971 to 31% now. But while the proportion of retirees living alone has hardly changed over the past four decades, it's Britons of working age who are increasingly on their own. This lifestyle isn't always a chosen one: think of how the divorce rate has nearly doubled since the 60s.

Solo living coupled with a culture that exalts individualism breeds isolation. Britain's economic model grants its winners all manner of economic freedoms, but it does so while weakening social bonds. Getting on your bike and looking for work, or moving abroad to get a job, means leaving your family and friends behind. Some of these gaps can be filled by consumer onanism and by psychic palliatives such as Facebook and Twitter. But not wholly, and not for long.

In his book, Loneliness, Cacioppo puts it thus: "A rising tide can lift a variety of boats, but in a culture of social isolates, atomised by social and economic upheaval and separated by vast inequalities, it can also cause millions to drown." He might have been thinking of Joyce Vincent.

The flipside of economic individualism is loneliness. And as that model has been exported around the world, even traditionally family-centred cultures have started to crumble. This summer, Beijing passed a law compelling adults to visit their parents, or face jail. And next time Hunt sounds off about eastern reverence for the elderly, he might remember this: the best adult care home in Beijing has a waiting list that is 100 years long.

Do team-mates have to get along?

October 27, 2013

Cricket players or comrades in arms?

Samir Chopra

 

Dressing room or office cubicles?  © Getty Images

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Jonathan Wilson's analysis, here on the Cordon, of cricket's workplace and the "unrealistic" expectations of player relationships it seems to generate among fans made for some very interesting reading.

Fans, of course, expect player relationships to be far more cordial and chummy than they actually are, or even could be, because - among other things - they view cricket through an imaginative and hopeful lens, one that refracts and distorts and magnifies and colours in all sorts of ways. We view cricket not as a series of prosaic encounters of bat and ball wielded by salaried men, but rather as the stage and setting for a variety of noble encounters that resolve archetypal conflicts. We populate this stage with a variety of stock characters: heroes (our side), villains (their side), damsels in distress (the nations the players represent, which need rescuing from all manner of insults), scapegoats (those on our side who fail us and must be blamed for the defeats that could not possibly be our just fate), traitors (see:scapegoat), village idiots (sometimes umpires, sometimes opponents, sometimes selectors, sometimes our own team), magicians, gnomes and wise men (the captains, and now increasingly the coaches, all capable of changing the fortunes of nations and groups of men with mysterious incantations and potions). And so on. 

The vision of cricket afforded by these lenses is one that cricket writers, going back to the game's earliest days, and television producers and commentators in more recent times, have drawn on and embellished. It is one whose moral universe is relatively unambiguous, whose human relationships follow smooth, predictable trajectories; its decision-makers experience little cognitive dissonance, whether ethical, strategic or tactical; where rough edges are miraculously smoothed out by good intentions and ceaseless striving. The only reward our heroes expect is adulation and fame and the gratitude of adoring nations.

I do not mean to suggest that such is the fan's consciously distorted view of a game; rather it is that every fan's experience and interpretation of the game is not without its component of unconscious or subconscious fantasy imposed on its visible proceedings.

One set of prominent stock characters that populate this stage for the fan are drawn from stories of adventure and war, where "bands of brothers" or "comrades in arms" face adversity and the enemy as a united front and ultimately emerge triumphant. A magical brew of togetherness is stewed, one made more potent by mutual respect and affection and something called "team spirit"; it overcomes all opponents. Among this band of brothers, there is fraternity and camaraderie; there is much backslapping and shoulder-to-shoulder support; there are handshakes and there is mateship; everyone has someone's back. This a bunch of soldiers, united together, perhaps like the "pal battalions" of Kitchener's Army, going off to fight the good battle.

The modern team knows of this image and it draws on it in its public-relations exercises and its team-building manoeuvres; there is talk of visiting war memorials and cemeteries; "boot camps" are conducted, sometimes in jungles, sometimes in mountains; team members speak glowingly of the dressing-room "atmosphere", one made especially salubrious for some by long hours of drinking together; players speak glowingly of their trench buddies and their "partnerships".

In this understanding of the game, the workplace picture of men and their trades, engaged in work for wages, possibly drawn into all manners of conflict, on or off the field, with their co-workers or "management", is a jarring disruption. It is not one that sits comfortably with our imagined conceptions of what takes place on a cricket field. It is not how we "enjoy" the game. It is not how the game functions for us, or how we make sense of, and ascribe meaning to, the "hallowed 22 yards" far away, dimly glimpsed, out there in the middle.

-------OCTOBER 21, 2013
Do team-mates have to get along?

Jonathan Wilson in Cricinfo

Not quite Michael Clarke's scene, if Ricky Ponting's book is to be believed  © Getty Images

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There is often an assumption among fans that team-mates are all great friends. After all, whenever we see them, they are forever hugging each other or high-fiving, and most of them are incapable of getting through a post-match interview without talking collectively of "the lads" or "the boys", and insisting that "the spirit" has never been better.

Our own experience of sport, whether it's a frenetic five-a-side on a Thursday night or a leisurely 35-over game on a Sunday, tells us that the people you play with, while there might be the odd niggle - "Why will Mike not stop hitting it long?", "When did Tom last buy a round?", "Will Steve ever stop banging on about that trial he had with Leicestershire in 1972?" - are essentially people you quite enjoy having a drink with afterwards. 

Ricky Ponting's comments in his autobiography on Michael Clarke come as a reminder that among professionals those niggles are often far more serious. "Away from cricket, he moved in a different world to the rest of us," Ponting wrote. "It never worried me if a bloke didn't want a drink in the dressing-room, but I did wonder about blokes who didn't see the value in sticking around for a chat and a laugh and a post-mortem on the day's play. This was the time when we could revel in our success, pick up the blokes who were struggling, and acknowledge the guys who were at the peak of their powers. Pup hardly bought into this tradition for a couple of years and the team noticed."

The tone is reasonably diplomatic, and Ponting goes out of his way to stress that Clarke wasn't ever "disruptive" and that there was no suggestion he was slacking or not putting in the effort in training, but the episodes with Simon Katich and Mike Hussey suggest just how deep that frustration ran. Clarke was not, for want of a better term, one of them, and reading between the lines, the more traditional players wondered whether he felt himself better than them.

Jarrod Kimber wrote in the first issue of the Nightwatchman about how Clarke is representative of a shift in Australian masculinity from hairy-chested beer-swilling to manicured cocktail-sipping, and that probably didn't help, but the truth is that in any team there's a player or two who has to shoot off immediately after play, whether because they are too busy or because they have promised their wife or just because they don't much like sitting around having a beer. When things are going well, that's not a problem; when things are going badly, you can guarantee they are the ones who'll be slagged off in the clubhouse afterwards.

The issue then is chicken-and-egg: do they not hang around because they are self-centred in how they approach the game, or do they become self-centred because the rest of the team regards them with suspicion?

Of course, in this regard the major difference between professionals and happy weekend amateurs is the stakes. We grumble about a team-mate who never passes or scores too slowly because it might cost us the game and because we want to be involved as much as possible. A Test cricketer fumes about it because he is playing for his nation in front of an audience of millions and because defeats can cost contracts.

Yet does it really matter if team-mates get on? The great Dutch football coach Rinus Michels, architect of Total Football, pioneers what he termed the Conflict Principle: he felt if his players became too comfortable they would lose their edge. Look at most workplaces. While you will get groups of friends, most people just rub along and wouldn't dream of socialising with their workmates once they had moved on to a different job.

Dressing rooms, it's easy for fans and amateurs to forget, are just workplaces. Everybody is fighting under one banner, and yet at the same time they are fighting for preferment with each other. If you do lose the game and the pressure comes for changes, you don't want to be the one whose match figures were 0 for 185, just as when cutbacks come in an office, you don't want to be the one whose sales figures dropped by 10% over the previous year. Football club dressing rooms are probably even worse, given the frequency with which players move on: why stick up for the idiot winger who never tracks back when the chances are you'll be playing for different teams next year anyway? It comes as no great surprise when the combative Roy Keane says he made no friends in football, but it's rather more startling when the genial Niall Quinn, seemingly the epitome of the tough but easy-going, hard-drinking Irishman, admits he didn't either.

So long as players aren't wilfully undermining each other - as the crowd favourite Len Shackleton did when Sunderland broke the world transfer record to sign Trevor Ford and, fearing for his status, began delivering crosses so loaded with spin they were impossible to control, before turning to the fans and shrugging - it doesn't seem much to matter. If you don't deliberately run them out or start texting details of technical flaws to the opposition, it doesn't much matter whether you'd go to their wedding - so long as things are going well. Under stress, fault lines will always be exposed.

So what is team spirit? Does it exist and is it important? It's clearly true that certain players for certain countries - and particularly nations that are in the process of rebuilding after revolution or war: Croatia in 1996 and 1998 or Bosnia today in football - do at times seem inspired by notions of patriotic duty, but for the most part team spirit seems something of a myth, a nebulous togetherness generated when things are going well. As the former Tottenham and Barcelona striker Steve Archibald once noted in a moment of unusual eloquence, perhaps aided by a wistful translation into Spanish and out again, "Team spirit is a chimera glimpsed in the moment of victory."

Robert Fisk: It took decades for truth to be revealed in Algeria. How long will it take Syria?

ROBERT FISK in The Independent

Sunday 20 October 2013

Algeria’s ‘timid’ historians shy away from revealing the ugly truths about war

Major General Jamaa Jamaa was not a popular man in Beirut. One of Syria’s most senior intelligence officers in Lebanon until the withdrawal of Bashar al-Assad’s troops in 2005, he was headquartered in the run-down Beau Rivage Hotel in west Beirut and also in the Bekaa town of Anjaar, where Lebanese men would be taken for interrogation and later emerge – or not emerge at all – sans teeth or nails.  He was a loyal, ruthless apparatchik for Bashar’s father Hafez, and his mysterious killing last week in the Syrian war provoked no tears in Beirut.  The UN had interviewed Jamaa about the murder of former Lebanese prime minister Rafiq Hariri whose 2005 assassination brought about the Syrian withdrawal from Lebanon.  But how did Jamaa die?  Syrian state television would say only that he was “martyred while carrying out his national duties to defend Syria and its people and pursuing terrorists (sic) in Deir el-Zour”.

All kinds of rebel groups – including, of course, the equally ruthless al-Qa’ida affiliates – wanted to add his name to their “kills”.  He was shot in the head by a sniper in the eastern Syrian oil town.  Jamaa was also killed, we were informed, by a booby-trap, and blown up by a suicide bomber.  All that we can be sure of is that his remains, such as they were, were taken for burial in the village hills above Lattakia where he was born.  How long before we know the truth?

I am brought to this question by the secrecy which still smothers the 1954-62 Algerian-French war of independence where a cruel French regime of occupation fought a war against an equally cruel and determined Algerian resistance, primarily led by the National Liberation Front, the FLN. French officers indulged in an orgy of torture while their Algerian opposite numbers slaughtered each other – as well as the French – in a Stalinist purge of thousands of their own followers suspected of collaborating with the French occupation. For decades, the French refused to discuss this most dishonourable of wars – censoring their own television programmes if they dared talk of torture – while the subsequent FLN dictatorship only published infantile accounts of the heroism of their “martyr” cadres. The French, you see, were fighting “terrorism”.  The FLN were fighting a brutal, Gaullist regime.

The parallels are, of course, not exact. But over the past months, a remarkable phenomenon has made its appearance in Algeria.  Dozens of elderly Algerian maquisards from the conflict that ended just over half a century ago, have turned up at small publishing houses in Algiers and Oran with  private manuscripts, containing frightening accounts of the savage war in which they fought and in which their officers tortured and massacred and assassinated their own comrades. Rival Algerian resistance groups – not unlike the “Free Syrian Army” and their Islamist rebel enemies in northern Syria today – also slaughtered each other.

Take, for example, the death of Abane Ramdane. The “architect” of the Algerian revolution, a friend of the French philosopher and revolutionary Franz Fanon, organizer of the Soummam congress which created the first independent Algerian leadership in 1956, Ramdane – a man almost as keen on his own personality as he was on the classless revolution he helped initiate – was assassinated in Morocco the following year, allegedly by the French.  For decades, he was extolled as a martyr who had “died under French bullets”.  But now a former member of the FLN has dared to suggest the names of his real killers:  Krim Belkacem, head of the FLN’s third wilaya (district) and later a minister of defence and foreign affairs in the newly independent government of Algeria;  Abdelhafid Boussouf, the vicious “father of intelligence” in all the Algerian wilayas, who condemned many of his own comrades to death;  and Lakhdar Ben Tobbal, a guerrilla leader who later negotiated with the French at Evian.

Then there’s the sinister figure of Si Salah, head of wilaya 4, who was persuaded – by French intelligence, although he did not know this – that hundreds of his own men were collaborators. On Si Salah’s personal instructions, almost 500 of his comrades were tortured to death or executed. But Si Salah, fearful that the FLN’s military wing might be defeated by the French, secretly opened negotiations with De Gaulle – and was then himself assassinated, supposedly by the French, but almost certainly by the FLN. The French investigative journalist, Pierre Daum, has spoken of the “extreme timidity of Algerian historians”, and recounted how one Algerian publisher said he lacked the courage to print a book on the infiltration of the FLN. 

“In 2005, this guy came to see me,” the publisher told Daum. “I refused his manuscript because it was filled with names, ‘X tortured Y’, and so on.  Imagine the children of a ‘martyr’ – who believe their father died under French gunfire – discovering that he perished under Algerian torture!”

The real story of the much more recent Algerian war – between the Islamists and the government in the 1990s (total deaths 250,000, a hundred thousand more than in Syria today) – still cannot be told by Algerian historians.  It has been left to today’s Algerian novelists to cloak facts in fiction in order to reveal the truths of this terrible conflict. One such tale – a real incident – is recalled in a novel. A junior officer in the Algerian army, it seems, was discovered to have betrayed his comrades to Islamist rebels. His wife and children were summoned from their village and taken by military helicopter to the barren hillside where the captured soldier was being held.  And there, in front of his family, the man was tied to a tree, doused with petrol, and burned alive.

How long must we wait, then, for the secrets buried beneath the rubble of the Syrian war?

Saving the planet from short-termism will take man-on-the-moon commitment

JFK's lunar vision is needed if business is to see the long-term benefits of greening the economy as well as the short-term costs

President John F Kennedy's moon speech was made in an age when both sides on Capitol Hill were prepared to invest in the future. Photograph: John Rous/AP

We choose to go to the moon. So said John F Kennedy in September 1962 as he pledged a manned lunar landing by the end of the decade.

The US president knew that his country's space programme would be expensive. He knew it would have its critics, but he took the long-term view. Warming to his theme in Houston that day, JFK went on: "We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organise and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others too."

That was the world's richest country at the apogee of its power in an age where both Democrats and Republicans were prepared to invest in the future. Kennedy's predecessor, Dwight Eisenhower, took a plan for a system of interstate highways and made sure it happened.

Contrast that with today's America, which looks less like the leader of the free world than a banana republic with a reserve currency. Planning for the long term now involves last-ditch deals on Capitol Hill to ensure the federal government can remain open until January and debts can be paid at least until February.

The US is not the only country with advanced short-termism. It merely provides the most egregious example of the disease. This is a world of fast food and short attention spans, of politicians so dominated by a 24/7 news agenda that they have lost the habit of planning for the long term.

Britain provides another example of the trend. Governments of both left and right have for years put energy policy in the "too hard to think about box". They have not been able to make up their minds whether to commit to renewables as Germany has done, or to nuclear as France has done. So, the nation of Rutherford is now prepared to have a totalitarian country take a majority stake in a new generation of nuclear power stations.

Politics, technology and human nature all militate in favour of kicking the can down the road. The most severe financial and economic crisis in more than half a century has further discouraged policymakers from raising their eyes from the present to the distant horizon.

Clearly, though, the world faces long-term challenges that will only become more acute through prevarication. These include coping with a bigger and ageing global population, ensuring growth is sustainable and equitable, providing resources to pay for modern transport and energy infrastructure, and reshaping international institutions so they represent the world as it is in the early 21st century rather than as it was in 1945.

Pascal Lamy had a stab at tackling some of these difficult issues last week when he presented the findings of the Oxford Martin Commission for Future Generations, which the former World Trade Organisation chief has been chairing for the past year.

The commission's report, Now for the Long Term, looks at some "mega trends" that will shape the world in the decades to come, and lists the challenges under five headings: society, resources, health, geopolitics, governance.

Change will be difficult, the study suggests, because problems are complex, institutions are inadequate, faith in politicians is low and short-termism is well-entrenched.

It cites examples of collective success, such as the Montreal convention to prevent ozone depletion, the establishment of the Millennium Development Goals, and the G20 action to prevent the great recession of 2008-09 turning into a full-blown global slump. It also cites examples of collective failure – fish stocks depletion, the deadlocked Copenhagenclimate change summit of 2009.

The report suggests a range of long-term ideas worthy of serious consideration. It urges a coalition between the G20, 30 companies and 40 cities to lead the fight against climate change. It would like "sunset clauses" for all publicly funded international institutions to ensure they are fit for purpose; removal of perverse subsidies on hydrocarbons and agriculture with the money redirected to the poor; introduction of CyberEx, an early warning platform aimed at preventing cyber attacks; a Worldstat statistical agency to collect and ensure quality of data; and investment in the younger generation through conditional cash transfers and job guarantees.

Lamy expressed concern that the ability to address challenges was being undermined by the absence of a collective vision for society. The purpose of the report, he said, was to build "a chain from knowledge to awareness to mobilising political energy to action".

Full marks for trying, but this is easier said than done. Take trade, where Lamy has spent the past decade, first as Europe's trade commissioner then as head of the WTO, trying to piece together a new multilateral deal. This is an area in which all 150-plus WTO members agree in principle about the need for greater liberalisation but in which it has proved impossible to reach agreement in talks that started in 2001.

Nor will a shakeup of the international institutions be plain sailing. It is a given that developing countries, especially the bigger ones such as China, India and Brazil, should have a bigger say in the way the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank are run. Yet it's proved hard to persuade developed world countries to cede some of their voting rights, and the deal is still being held up by US foot dragging. These, remember, are the low-hanging fruit.

Another conclave of the global great and good is looking at what should be done in the much trickier area of climate change. The premise of the Global Commission on the Economy and Climate is that nothing will be done unless finance ministers are convinced of the need for action, especially given the damage caused by a deep recession and sluggish recovery.

Instead of preaching to the choir the plan is to show how to achieve key economic objectives – growth, investment, secure public finances, fairer distribution of income – while at the same time protecting the planet. The pitch to finance ministers will be that tackling climate change will require plenty of upfront investment that will boost growth rather than harm it.

Will this approach work? Well, maybe. But it will require business to see the long-term benefits of greening the economy as well as the short-term costs, because that would lead to the burst of technological innovation needed to accelerate progress. And it will require the same sort of commitment it took to win a world war or put a man on the moon.

Choice is simply code for class

Janet Street Porter in The Independent

Social mobility tsar Alan Milburn is concerned that the gap between rich and poor is increasing. But if we want equal opportunities for all, we need to stop introducing subtle forms of social demarcation in every walk of life.

It's a particularly British obsession, this determination to create mini-castes emphasising our differences rather than celebrating our strengths. The majority of us claim to be middle class, but offer us "finest" fare over "budget" and we're hooked.

Travel is another example. Budget airlines exploit our need for social demarcation, offering us the chance not to queue – at a price. The chance not to pay for our food – at a price. The chance to choose our seat – at a price. The chance to sit at the front of economy – at a price. All things that were free a decade ago. In fact, "low-cost" air travel is not egalitarian or cheap by any stretch of the imagination.

Rail travel is the same. There's talk of a new category of travel when the East Coast line franchise is offered to private investors: a class below first called "premium economy" – so standard travel will be third class, the rolling stock equivalent of below stairs. Quite soon train operators will ask us to pay to be allowed on the platform first.

I love the new high-speed train to Kent because it's all one class. Passengers are quiet; it's clean and efficient, but it's not cheap. Anyone on a budget opts to travel on the overcrowded and slow old line.

We should realise that, in modern Britain, offering us "choice" is code for implementing a class system based on ability to pay, and (by default) offering an inferior service to the poorest. Now this trend looks likely to afflict our health service.

Michael Dixon, president of the NHS Clinical Commission and chair of the NHS Alliance, says patients could soon be charged for "extras" like comfortable beds and better food. As the NHS faces a funding gap of £30bn by the end of the decade and has to deal with an ageing population, Dr Dixon thinks users should contribute more. Hospitals raise millions through the controversial practice of charging for parking (some extort £3 an hour from visitors) and making us cough up for televisions.

Dr Dixon sees nothing wrong in a two-tier system for inpatients, claiming the wealthy already use the NHS when it suits them and pay for private treatment when they have to, and the principle should be expanded. The NHS is hopelessly overburdened with administrators and this proposal would make it worse. The quality of food varies wildly from one area to another, some trusts spending just £4.15 a day per patient, others up to £15, when the average is about £9.80.

The same differences crop up in ordering supplies: money is wasted through piecemeal and uninformed purchasing. We should all get uniformity of service throughout the NHS, no matter where we fall sick. The NHS is not a bunch of Premier League football clubs, all in competition, nor is it a gang of department stores offering rival services. NHS chief executives earn large salaries and get gold-plated pensions, but the amount they are paid varies wildly, too.

Why has the NHS become like an airline or a train operator, when it should be providing a uniform top service for a classless Britain?

Ethics, Economics, Education

The decision of the courts against a photocopying shop that provided course-material to Delhi University students will have global repercussions

ALI KHAN MAHMUDABAD in outlook India

The right to education is fundamental to the development of any society. Implicit within this right is the right to access knowledge without being constrained by one's socio-economic background. The state, which is the mediator between private interest and public good, has a duty to enforce these rights. A court case in India instituted last year by Taylor and Francis, Cambridge University Press and its Oxford equivalent against Delhi University and Rameshwari Photocopy Services is being heard again and will force the judicial system not only to address technical and legal questions concerning copyright but deeper questions about what constitutes the public good.

The case concerns the photocopying and sale of books printed by these publishing houses, as buying the originals, even the Indian editions, is beyond the means of most students. In fact, has been established through empirical studies by academics like Shamshad Basheer, often only short sections of these books are copied to make course-packs as is done in the US under the 'fair use' laws. A bare reading of the copyright laws in India might lead some to the conclusion that the photocopying is illegal as the photocopying house, an official licensee of Delhi University, is making a profit. At the same time the carefully worded section 52 of the Indian copyright act makes certain provisions, as has been argued by Niraj Kishan Kaul the advocate for the University of Delhi and goes to great lengths to differentiate between ‘reproduction of work’ and ‘issuing copies of work’ and sub-clauses that allow for an exception to be made for students and teachers.

The court granted temporary relief to the petitioners and stopped the photostat shop from making any copies and on the last hearing on the 1st of October listed the matter for the 21st of October.

Interestingly, copyright laws have not always been restrictive. In 1790 a copyright law was passed in America, actually permitting the re-printing of foreign material, as copyright was deemed a privilege and not a right, which led to an entire industry being built around material that otherwise might have been deemed ‘pirated.’ So although today America is a stickler for enforcing copyright laws, its own market was initially built by breaking these very rules.

What is perhaps of as great importance as a discussion of the technical aspects of the law is a conversation about the value of the service being provided by the Rameshwari Photocopying Services and, crucially, what the stance of the university presses says about their approach to knowledge dissemination.

The argument that the authors of academic works suffer is largely redundant as most academic presses give relatively modest remuneration to the writers. Furthermore, many of the people mentioned in the lawsuit, including noted academics such as Amartya Sen amongst others, have actually written an open letter opposing the case. Notably, there are very few countries in the world in which academics are remunerated in a manner which is commensurate with the role they play in today’s world: writing the history of the future of coming generations. Most academics do what they do because of a love of the subject and of course there are those who are able to cash in on their expertise but these form the exception rather than the norm. The argument for a loss of income to the publishing house is also questionable since the closing down of shops such as the Rameshwari Services will not mean that the students will suddenly be able to buy original prints as these will still be too expensive.

In a section entitled ‘what we do’ the Cambridge University Press website states in big bold letters that its purpose is “to further the University’s objective of advancing learning, knowledge and research.’ Beneath this admirably expressed goal, in smaller font, the blurb talks of 'the global market place,’ ‘their 50 global offices’ and ‘the distribution of their products.’ The two parts of the section speak volumes about the press’ approach in fulfilling its objectives and indeed this is symptomatic of a system that encourages institutions or indeed individuals to profess an ethical approach to economics but one which is in actual fact often under girded by a fine print that almost inevitably puts self-interest before anything else. The Oxford University Press website states similar aims and interestingly even acknowledges that "access to research helps push the boundaries of research."

Of course any institution needs to be self-sufficient but at the same time in many countries those institutions that are deemed to be serving a public good are granted tax-free charitable status, as is the case with both the university presses. This of course in effect means that the taxpayer subsidizes them.

The case instituted by these publishing houses then seems to be part of the worrying effort to commercialize education by making it bend to the ‘logic’ of the market. India is already facing the effects of unregulated private educational institutions that are often used to launder money and which essentially offer a degree on payment service. The publishing houses then are acting in a manner which is no different from the way in which certain corporate entities bully smaller organisations out of the market. The difference is that the some of the students who buy photocopied material might well end up publishing material with the university presses because ultimately both are part of the same system. In a recent statement the spokesperson for the Cambridge Press even said that their primary purpose is "not as a commercial organisation."

In a speech in the House of Commons on the 5th of February 1841 Lord Macaulay, while accepting its necessity, dubbed copyright ‘a tax on readers for the purpose of giving a bounty to writers…for one of the most salutary and innocent of human pleasures.’ Later in the speech, he gave the example of Milton’s poetry, the sole copyright of which lay with a bookseller called Tonson who once took a rival to court for publishing a cheap version of Paradise Lost, after its performance at the Garrick theatre. Macaulay then concluded that the effects of this monopoly led to a situation where ‘the reader is pillaged; and the writer’s family is not enriched.’

The decision of the Indian courts will have global repercussions, as has been the case in its rulings against big pharmaceutical companies. The practice of making course-books is found in many other countries such as Nigeria, Peru and Iran, with the latter also suffering as sanctions mean that many journals cannot be accessed, let alone copied. In Syria, just outside the University of Damascus, in the underpass beneath the Mezze autostradde were a number of shops that provided cheap copies to students who otherwise would not have had access to key material.

In a world delineated by bottom lines, fine prints and sub-clauses, in which freedom in essence translates into 'consumerist freedom,' it is easy to speak of ideals and values but much harder to put them into action. As Harvard philosopher Michael Sandel argues, the more we treat everything as a product to be sold or bought, including our education, our bodies and even our emotions, the more we devalue their intrinsic worth and so what is needed is 'bringing ethics, morality and virtue into public discourse.' For students, any society's real assets, the closure of the small yet crucial services provided by shops that produce photocopied coursework would only add one more obstacle in a country that is already riven with economic disparities.

‘We Only Postponed The Day Of Reckoning’

Economist-cum-technocrat Deepak Nayyar is viewed as an influential observer of the economy and a selective critic of liberalisation. He was the chief economic advisor to the government during the tumultuous period between 1989 and 1991, when India negotiated with the International Monetary Fund. In a rare interview, Nayyar—emeritus professor of economics at the Jawaharlal Nehru University in Delhi—took questions from Sunit Arora published in Outlook India:

Sunit Arora: Professor Nayyar, is India facing a balance of payments crisis?

Professor Deepak Nayyar: We are indeed in a crisis. In the past three months, confidence has been strongly undermined. India’s balance of trade deficit (10 per cent of GDP) and current account deficit (4.8 per cent of GDP) are both at levels that are unsustainable in terms of fundamentals. If you compare this with the past in India, or the present in other emerging economies, you would recognize how serious the situation is. It is as clear as daylight that we cannot continue to live beyond our means year after year.

But why has the mood shifted from abject despair to seeming euphoria?

The panic lifted when US Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke announced in mid-September that he was going to defer the progressive withdrawal of quantitative easing. It was not the magic wand of Raghuram Rajan at RBI that stabilized the rupee It was this exogenous event in the US! Essentially, the problem lies in our flawed strategy of using foreign (portfolio) investment inflows to finance the current account deficit. Given this approach, we must be prepared to accept the ebbs and flows of global finance. However, we cannot claim we are victims of global finance. Of course, most emerging economies were hurt by Bernanke's decision. But we chose this path. And our fundamentals are distinctly worse 

What do you think is an appropriate value of the rupee?

The rupee was somewhat over-valued at Rs 55/$ . We have had high inflation for three years, much higher than in the outside world. Hence, this needed to be corrected. But the sinking to Rs 70/$ was too much of a correction. Clearly, there is no assurance the rupee will remain at current levels of Rs 62/$. When the Federal Reserve Board meets next, it is almost certain that they will announce a phased withdrawal of quantitative easing. There could then be a repeat performance of capital outflows from India. It is simply a matter of time. We have only postponed the day of reckoning.

The government continues to insist that we don’t need to go to the IMF.

"It would be prudent and wise to explore seeking an arrangement with the IMF—even if this cannot be in the public domain for obvious political reasons.”

The government cites two reasons for their comfort: the exchange rate has stabilized, and foreign exchange reserves at $275 billion are large enough. The exchange rate could slip again. And the comfort implicit in these reserves is illusory. Simply put, short-term debt and liabilities that can be withdrawn on demand are much larger than our reserves. The private corporate sector has to repay $ 170 billion before end-March 2014. And the outstanding stock of portfolio investment is much larger. If there were to be capital flight, just as we had in 1990, the reserves would vanish—and vanish quickly. In the past, many countries in Latin America, East Asia and elsewhere have lost more than $100 billion of foreign exchange reserves in a fortnight during financial crises.

So, do we need to go to the IMF?

It is important to recognize that the IMF simply does not have the resources to finance such large current account deficits let alone combat capital flight. But the IMF is a lender of last resort. Its imprimatur tends to stabilize confidence in international financial markets. The government must recognize that the present situation is at least as serious, if not worse, than what it was in 1990-91. In these circumstances, it would be both prudent and wise to explore the possibilities of an arrangement with the IMF, even if this cannot be in the public domain for obvious political reasons. The government must recognize that terms are always better before a crisis implodes, and always much worse thereafter. Obviously, this would be a back-up plan, tactical rather than strategic, should the need for contingency finance arise. The government must also explore alternative emergency financing possibilities such as swap arrangements with other central banks.

How would you rate the UPA’s management of the economy?

The macro-management of the economy during the tenure of UPA-II leaves much to be desired. The management of the balance of payments situation has been poor. This problem, which has been building up for three years, should have been addressed much earlier—with the same urgency as the government is doing now. The early warning signals were all there but were quietly ignored.

If you were Chief Economic Advisor, what would you have advised the government?

The irony of my life is that, in the late 1980s, I wrote about the macroeconomic crisis to come, but I was at the epicentre trying to manage it when it surfaced (in 1990-91). If I had any association with the government, starting 2009, I would heard these alarm bells. For one, I would have begun to act on accelerating rates of inflation. For another, I would have done something to ensure that the balance of trade deficit, hence the current account deficit, did not climb to these unsustainable levels. These problems did not surface overnight. For more than three years now, inflation has been gathering momentum and the balance of trade deficit has been rapidly ballooning.

Why hasn’t the UPA been able to tackle persistent and high inflation for the past three years?

“I am opposed to Raghuram Rajan’s plan to allow global banks to buy Indian ones. Banking plays a critical role in countries latecomers to industrialisation.”

I think that both the diagnosis and the prescription of the government on inflation has been wrong. The government has simply raised interest rates time and time again. This has ended up stifling domestic investment. But it has done nothing to combat inflation. Hiking interest rates would moderate inflation if rising prices are driven by excess liquidity. But when inflation is driven by supply-demand imbalances, adverse expectations, or segmented markets, monetary policy cannot address the problem. It is no surprise that it has not. Indeed, theory and experience both suggest that, beyond a point, raising interest rates does not combat inflation, just as lowering interest rates cannot stimulate investment. The persistent inflation has hurt people most of whom do not have index linked incomes. Come election time, this resentment will translate into a protest by voters against incumbent governments, wherever they are, because people hold governments accountable for inflation. The real problem now lies in the credibility of the government, now much diminished, because that is what shapes confidence, perceptions, and expectations. It is possible—although as a citizen I sincerely hope it does not happen—that markets might decide, without waiting for the people to decide at election time. If a macro-economic crisis does surface before the election, then markets would have decided on the economic performance of the government even before the people have had an opportunity to do so.

So you feel the crisis could re-appear…?

It is possible. It serves no purpose to be alarmist. Yet, it is important to be a realist. I do not see any evidence of a real turnaround, at least so far, on any of the criteria—trade deficit, current account deficit, inflation, savings, investment or growth—that shape underlying fundamentals. The only silver lining is the good monsoon. The paradox is the skyrocketing prices of food in what seems to be an abundant monsoon. The depreciation of the rupee is going to compound the problem. Imports are 25 per cent of GDP so that a 10 percent depreciation directly pushes up the wholesale price index by 2.5 percentage points, while indirect pass-through effects could add a further 1 plus percentage points.

Shifting tracks, what is your view on Raghuram Rajan’s statement on recasting norms for allowing international banks to buy Indian ones?

My view is clear. I am opposed to it. I would wish to exercise strategic control in the banking sector as it has a critical strategic importance in countries that are latecomers to industrialization. Evidence available for the past ten years, which reveals a significant decline in the share of manufacturing in GDP and in employment, suggests that there is a danger of de-industrialization in India. I would argue that the time has come for India to think of strategic industrial, trade and technology policies. There is no country that has industrialized without strategic forms of intervention. The fetishism about liberalization is overdone. It is a means of increasing the degree of competition in the economy. But its pace and sequence must be calibrated. We cannot lose sight of the ends. Industrialization is an imperative because that is our potential comparative advantage.

What is your view on the corruption scandals around the allocation of scarce natural assets?

As a concerned citizen, I can only express anguish and anger at such a blatant sharing of the spoils between the state and some corporate entities. The metaphor , crony-capitalism, is an apt description. Public Private Partnerships (PPPs) are just rhetoric. For one, there is so little progress. For another, it might simply socialize the costs and privatize the benefits. Where is it going to lead us, say in infrastructure?

Finally, where do you weigh in on the Amartya Sen versus Jagdish Bhagwati debate?

I followed the debate, but it is a red herring that poses false dilemmas. Both are concerned with outcomes—growth or equity—but neither is concerned with processes, which requires thinking about transition paths or journeys to the destination. Most importantly, we need growth with equity. Is it possible for us to promote growth when you have a State that is incapable of regulation? Similarly, is it possible for a state that cannot deliver even basic public services to implement good redistribution programmes? Efficient markets need effective governments.