'Standing up to the wicket is what keeping is all about'

Former England keeper Bob Taylor talks about what you need to be world-class behind the stumps

Interview by Scott Oliver in Cricinfo

December 2, 2013

 

	"You've got to try and concentrate until the last ball of the last over has been bowled" © PA Photos  Enlarge

You obviously started in an era long before specialist coaching. Did you ever have a mentor or coach to bounce ideas off?
Not really. I used to talk to George Dawkes, the wicketkeeper at Derbyshire when I started. And I used to learn by talking to other wicketkeepers. If we played Northants, I'd talk to Keith Andrew, whom I idolised; if we played Somerset, I'd talk to Harold Stephenson, and just try and learn by talking to them.

Harold told me: "When you're standing up, try and stand as close as you can, because the closer you are, the less deviation off the bat when the batsman nicks it, the more chance of it hitting your palm rather than the outside of your thumb." Obviously, it still takes a lot of skill. You've got to get your hands outside the line of the ball. But pieces of advice like that - I thought it was wonderful, and it made sense.

One thing that can be difficult when standing up is when a batsman's backlift obscures your view of the ball. How did you cope with that? Did you ever move your feet wider of the stumps? 
Not really, no. In my day, Notts had Basher Hassan and Derek Randall, both of whom, when they picked their bat up, had it right across your line of vision, which, as you say, makes life very difficult. Depending on the height of the bat, you can either look over the top of it or underneath it. I felt that when you look over the top it makes you come up too quick, which can be fatal, so I always used to try to get below the bat, so it kept me down.

What are the other key aspects of good wicketkeeping?
The main things are staying down, anticipation, and above all, concentration. I've read lots and lots of articles and books about wicketkeeping coaching, and not one has mentioned the most important part: concentration. Any successful person, whatever walk of life, the name of the game is consistency: being able to do it day in and day out. They are successful because they are focused, and they concentrate on what they are doing. I'm not blowing my own trumpet here, but nobody but me mentions concentration.

That's the hardest part of wicketkeeping. Because when you're playing on the subcontinent - in India, Pakistan or Sri Lanka - on those pitches, when you've got a good batsman in front of you, the wicketkeeper becomes almost redundant. You can be keeping for five hours and 55 minutes and not see the ball, then in the last over of the day a world-class batsman - a Sunil Gavaskar or Javed Miandad, say - gives you a chance that, if you don't take it, you can guarantee that the following day they're going to get a hundred in their conditions. That's what wicketkeeping's all about. You've got to try and concentrate until the last ball of the last over has been bowled.

What can you do to instil that concentration?
The only practical way I know of getting the wicketkeeper to concentrate is, every time the batsman plays the ball - and, as I say, on a good wicket, a good batsman will play the ball more often than not - you should, in that split-second when a batsman plays it, imagine the ball comes through to you and actually go through the motions of taking it. Every time. It stands to reason that if you've got into those habits, when the batsman goes out of his crease and misses the ball, you're halfway there. Your hands will be in the right place and you're watching the ball all the time.

When wicketkeepers miss stumpings, the two mistakes they make are they get up too soon, so their arms and hands come above their waist, and they anticipate that the batsman is going to hit the ball, and are looking to where they think he's going to hit it. The only way I know to correct that is, when you come up from the crouch position and straighten your knees, keep your hands below your knees so if the ball keeps low you can take it, and if it bounces you can come up in the air with it.

I notice you're already talking about keeping as if it was solely a question of standing up to the stumps.
Standing up to the wicket is what keeping is all about. At first-class level, any competent catcher - a decent slip fielder - can put the gloves on, like Marcus Trescothick, or Graeme Fowler and Graham Gooch when I was playing. They can all keep wicket to a degree. But up to the stumps sorts the men out from the boys. That's where you can see a true wicketkeeper.

	"The only practical way I know of getting the wicketkeeper to concentrate is, every time the batsman plays the ball - you should, in that split second, imagine the ball comes through to you and actually go through the motions of taking it"

You mentioned keeping on flat Asian pitches. Is that a bigger challenge than standing up on a green top in England? 
It's a difficult one. It's about the movement, which you want because it actually helps you concentrate. I said to Ian Healy, who was a terrific keeper, that keeping wicket to Shane Warne must have been a fabulous experience and I'd have loved to have done it. I said to him that it takes ability to keep to someone like Shane Warne, someone who's turning the ball a lot, because you're expecting it to come to you all the time. But to me that's easier than keeping on the subcontinent on flat wickets against top batsmen, when you're almost redundant.

You wouldn't have kept to much mystery spin.
No, but I did keep to Derek Underwood. He was a great bowler.

The most difficult bowler you kept to? 
People often ask me that question. For me, it wasn't anybody in particular. It was when you were standing up to a right-arm over - someone who was normally an away-swing bowler to a right-hander - bowling to a left-handed batsman. It's more natural to go down the leg side to a right-hander, for the simple reason that there are more of them in any team. You get used to it. It becomes natural. So, even though a ball down the leg side to a left-hander means I'm going to my stronger hand, my writing hand, it's still more difficult, less natural. You don't do it as often. It's about your foot movement, not which is your strong hand. I saw Ian Healy stump Mark Butcher down the leg side off Shane Warne. They might have rehearsed it, I don't know, but it still takes some doing.

So you recommend practising that then?
The message I try to get over to boys is that at nets they should try to practise more against left-handers than right-handers, because that helps to build up confidence. And when you're at the top of your game, you enjoy that challenge. It's an opportunity for a stumping. And if you're predominantly right-handed, before the match starts, take ten catches into both hands, diving and what-have-you, then ten into your right hand, then 20 in your left. So that gives you confidence with your weak hand, to take that half-chance when it comes.

It was a bit unfortunate for you that you had Alan Knott around for much of your career, until World Series Cricket came along, really. Was it difficult being a permanent understudy? 
I'd always got confidence in my ability; it's just that there was someone else who was better than me. His batting record speaks for itself. You have to be philosophical about things.

Did you and he discuss the finer points of wicketkeeping, or was there too much rivalry for that?
We did do, and we have done subsequently. Not that we always agreed. I used to coach Jack Russell, Paul Nixon and people like this at Lilleshall, while Knotty coached Alec Stewart down at Lord's. Then Knotty became more full-time with England and I think that's when Jack started to get all his idiosyncrasies. Whether they were standing up or back, Jack and Alec were facing cover for a period, but at the last second they were turning to be square-on. I asked Jack, Alec, and eventually Knotty what the theory was behind this, and he said that, if you're standing up, particularly if the ball bounced, your hips were out of the way.

I said to Knotty, "Well, if the ball bounces, it's an automatic reaction for your hips to turn, anyway. They've got to try and take the ball. I can see where you're coming from, but doesn't it make it harder for a normal wicketkeeper - not a Test wicketkeeper, who's got ability, or a county keeper even - to take the ball down the leg side?" He'd have to over-correct his position. There was no automatic explanation, so I thought it's just a theory that's being passed on. I said to Alec Stewart, "You stand open, but to take the ball you correct your position. Why do it in the first place?" He said: "Because Knotty told me."

	"Next to the captain, the wicketkeeper is the second most important player on the field. You're the inspiration to the rest of the fielders" © PA Photos  Enlarge

What about taking the ball in front of the stumps and knocking the bails off on the back-sweep of the hands?
It's all well and good - I used to do that years ago - but you're very reliant on accurate throws from the outfield, otherwise you can lose where the stumps are.

And why do wicketkeepers take the ball like a matador with his cape, taking their body away from the ball? It's all come from Australia. They take the ball away from the body. I've talked to Rod Marsh, I've talked to Ian Healy, I've talked to Adam Gilchrist, and I can't get a straightforward answer. I've spoken to Bruce French - who's teaching the theory as well - and he can't give me a proper answer, other than: "It inspires the rest of the fielders." I'm sorry, I don't understand.

I coached Frenchy when he started at Nottingham. I said, "Bruce, we've always been taught - particularly standing back - that you get your body behind the line of the ball, so you've got a second line of defence. It encourages you to move your feet". Particularly in this country, where the ball will dip and swerve after it goes past the bat - that's all the more reason why you have to get your body behind the line of the ball.

Which keepers of your era did you rate? 
Outside of me and Knotty, Paul Downton, David Bairstow, Jack Richards and Roger Tolchard were all good keepers.

And of recent times?
I think Dhoni's been fantastic. He's a superstar in India, a multi-millionaire, but to captain, to keep wicket, and bat - it's phenomenal.

I think the best English keepers over the last ten years have undoubtedly been James Foster and Chris Read. Duncan Fletcher did a lot of good for English cricket, I'm sure, but he had his favourites, and I think Geraint Jones was probably one of his favourites. The only thing I can think of [why Read didn't play more] is that he wasn't a good tourist. He was playing second fiddle to Alec Stewart, and I've had enough experience of that.

You've got to be philosophical, and when you're playing against New South Wales or Queensland, you've got to try your best. If I played well then it would push Alan Knott, keep him on his toes, which is the objective of a reserve, and only benefits the team. You've got to do your best - both on and off the field. As 12th man, in a hot climate, you've got to make sure players who are flogging themselves in 90 degrees of heat and 80% humidity are looked after. I don't know, but perhaps Chris Read wasn't doing his duties properly and it upset Duncan Fletcher - I don't know. But he was never really given a chance. And the same with James Foster. And they are both, I think, the top wicketkeepers - and that's in front of Matt Prior, Steven Davies, Craig Keiswetter, whoever.

And finally, your nickname was "Chat", so what about the keeper as the voice on the field? 
I say to schoolboys: if you want to improve, forget about all this sledging. If you're concentrating on sledging the batsmen, then you're not concentrating on the job you're supposed to be doing. Next to the captain, the wicketkeeper is the second most important player on the field. You're the inspiration to the rest of the fielders. You have to be neat and tidy to set the tone. That's what a wicketkeeper should be concentrating on. That and concentration.

The real cultists are CEOs

The real cultists are not Maoists, they're CEOs

It is not only in religious or political circumstances where people are made to follow a leader unthinkingly

• 
• • Nick Cohen
  • The Observer, Saturday 30 November 2013 18.04 GMT

Fred Goodwin is portrayed as a tyrant in a new biography. Photograph: Murdo MacLeod for the Observer

The great leader's followers know he goes "absolutely mental" at the tiniest deviation from the party line. He screams his contempt for the offender in public so that all learn the price of heresy. Go beyond minor breaches of party discipline and raise serious doubts about the leader's "vision" of global domination and that's the end of you. "You're toast," he says, and his henchmen lead you away.

In private, his underlings mutter that the leader is a "sociopath" with "no capacity for compassion". Even though he terrifies them, their hatred of him is far from complete. When he relaxes, the great leader can be charming. His favour brings reward. The further you move up the hierarchy, the more blessings you receive, and the more you believe the leader's propagandists when they hail his "originality" and "rigour". History is vindicating the leader. His power is growing. The glorious day when the world recognises his greatness is coming.

I could be describing Stalin's Soviet Union or the "Church" of Scientology. With last week's allegations that Maoists in south London kept women as slaves, I could be going back into the lost world of Marxist-Leninism. The British Communist party demanded absolute intellectual conformity. Vanessa and Corin Redgrave's Workers Revolutionary party and the Socialist Workers party wanted absolute submission, including sexual submission from women. The UK Independence party meanwhile is looking like a right-wing version of a Marxist sect. Nigel Farage's cult of the personality allows no other politician to compete with the supreme leader and no Ukip official to talk back to him.

As it is, the portrait of a tyrant comes from Iain Martin's biography of Fred Goodwin(one of the best books of the year, in my view). Like a communist general secretary or religious fanatic, he was enraged by the smallest breach with orthodoxy: not wearing the company tie; fitting a carpet in a Royal Bank of Scotland office that was not quite the right colour. The propagandists who praised his rigour and independence worked for Forbes magazine, the Pravda of corporate capitalism. Goodwin took RBS from being a sleepy Scottish bank to a global "player". So history did indeed seem to vindicate him – for a while.

With Britain hobbling in to 2014 like a battered beggar, we should accept that corporations can be as demented and dictatorial as any millenarian movement. People resist the comparison because businesses seem such modest enterprises. The godly persecuted heretics and apostates and the communists punished all dissent because they believed the kingdom of God or workers' paradise could be theirs if believers followed the one true course.

Businesses don't want Utopia. They just want to make money. Dennis Tourish, Britain's best academic authority on how hierarchies enforce obedience, has no problem with the comparison, however. His latest book, The Dark Side of Transformational Leadership,puts the Militant Tendency alongside Enron, the mass "revolutionary suicide" by Jim Jones's followers at Jonestown with the mass liquidation of Britain's wealth by the banks. The ends of an L Ron Hubbard or Fred Goodwin may be incompatible, he says, but the means are same.

In any case, the language of business has become ever more cultish. In the theory of "transformational leadership", which dominates the business schools, the CEO is a miracle worker. In Transformational Leadership, by Bernard Bass and Ronald Riggio, he is described, not by some gullible Forbes hack, but by two supposedly intelligent American academics. The transformational leader "inspires" his follower to "achieve extraordinary outcomes", they say. He "empowers them" to "exceed expected performance" and show ever greater "commitment to the organisation".

I don't see why anyone should find the comparison with fanatics so hard to accept and not only because the idea that CEOs can manufacture new and better subordinates matches Trotsky's belief that the revolution would create a "new man who raises himself to a new plane".

The nearest you are likely to come to experiencing life in a dictatorship is at work. Unless you are fortunate, you will discover that the management is the source of all ideas and all power. Executives will have privileges that bear no more relation to real achievement than the fat and ugly cult leader's expectation of sex. In 2012, the median pay for CEOs in the USA was $14.4m, the average salary for employees $45,230. In Britain, the High Pay Commission found that the average annual bonus for FTSE 300 directors had increased by 187% in 10 years even though the average year-end share price had gone down by 71%.

Above all, whether you are in the public or the private sector, John Lewis or Barclays Bank, you will learn that if you challenge authority you will lose the chance of promotion and if you challenge it in public, you will lose your job. To prosper in the workplace, as in the dictatorship, you must tell leaders what they want to hear.

Since the richest executives on the planet brought the west down, there has been an understandable interest in the psychology of corporate power. One experiment stays in my mind. Researchers divided volunteers into groups of three and gave one the title of "evaluator". Half an hour later, they gave each group a plate of biscuits. The evaluators grabbed more cookies and sprayed crumbs as they ate with their mouths open. After just 30 minutes, the conviction that they were managers produced greed and the belief that normal rules did not apply to them.

I do not doubt that, if required, the courts will deliver justice to the alleged victims of the Brixton Maoists. Justice is harder to find elsewhere. It is not merely that the banking scandals have not led to one prosecution. With the honourable exception of the coalition's push to protect NHS whistleblowers, there has been no interest in making public and private hierarchies less cultish. The left is not saying loudly enough that we need worker directors on all boards as a non-negotiable minimum. The right does not admit that the old way of doing business failed.

In these dismal circumstances, you must look after yourself. If you work in an organisation where you cannot challenge your superiors without fear of the consequences, get out. Stay and you will become a paranoid flatterer. You will suffer all the psychological consequences of living a frightened life in a playground run by strutting bullies. Dennis Tourish's words should be your prompt: the corruption of power may be bad, but the corruption of powerlessness is worse.

Is Britain's economy really on the path to prosperity?

Osborne's autumn statement will likely present a rosy picture of growth. But is it to be short-lived?

• 
• • Heather Stewart, economics editor
  • The Observer, Saturday 30 November 2013 23.12 GMT

George Osborne is expected to be in bullish mood when he delivers his autumn statement on Thursday. Photograph: Goh Chai Hin/AFP

Brightly coloured New Balance trainers are beloved of celebrities, from Ben Affleck to Heidi Klum. But if you buy a pair of the US firm's shoes in Europe or Asia they are most likely to have been made on the edge of the Lake District. From its British factory in Flimby, on the Cumbrian coast, the hi-spec trainer-maker will turn out more than a million pairs of shoes this year, with more than a third of those made from scratch – cut out and intricately stitched by its 245 skilled staff, who spend more than a year learning their trade.

Since the great recession of 2008-09, when production of the high-value "lifestyle" lines that occupy most of its machinists' time was slashed in half, factory manager Andy Okolowicz says things have gradually improved: "We have had three or four years now of very steady business, both in the UK and for export." It has stepped up output of these fashion shoes by 24% this year and hired more than 10 new staff.

This is the US firm's only European factory, selling to markets across the world, including Germany, France, Japan and Australia – and with the union flag stitched prominently on to the back of many of the models, it's exactly the kind of Made in Britain success story the chancellor hopes to see more of as economic growth picks up.

In George Osborne's 2011 budget speech, he laid out a stirring picture of a new model for the British economy: one driven by a "march of the makers", such as Flimby's trainer-stitchers, instead of what he called "debt-fuelled" growth: buy-to-letters, non-stop shoppers and high-rolling City gamblers.

Two-and-a-half years later, as he prepares to deliver his autumn statement on Thursday, the chancellor can finally boast that the long-awaited economic recovery has arrived: growth has rebounded sharply, unemployment is falling, and business surveys suggest confidence has been restored. As Simon Wells of HSBC puts it, the economy has moved "from a state of despair, to repair".

In March, the independent Office for Budget Responsibility, which draws up the forecasts Osborne uses to plan his tax and spending policies, was expecting negligible growth of 0.6% this year. City experts now forecast more than double that. Similarly, the OBR's 1.8% projection for 2014 now looks far too pessimistic. New forecasts, to be published alongside Osborne's statement, are expected to be rosier and the chancellor is likely to repeat his claim that the UK is now set firmly on the "path to prosperity".

In fact, with a number of eurozone countries barely out of recession, it would hardly be surprising if the chancellor allowed himself a Gordon Brown-style bout of economic Top Trumps, comparing the relatively upbeat outlook for the UK with the gloomy prognosis elsewhere.

"Osborne is probably looking forward to this autumn statement, because he doesn't have to announce that growth forecasts have been revised down for the umpteenth time," says Lee Hopley, chief economist at manufacturers' group the EEF.

Yet, as James Meadway of the New Economics Foundation puts it, "this is definitely not the recovery the coalition wanted or forecast". The breakdown of the latest growth figures showed that business investment – critical for rebuilding a new-style, more productive economy – is down by more than 6% year on year; exports are all but flat, despite the 20% fall in the value of the pound since the crisis; and manufacturing output remains 9% below where it was in 2008, despite the successes of the likes of New Balance and Britain's rampant car-makers.

In Flimby, Okolowicz explains that, while it's undoubtedly a success story, his factory is the final remnant of a much larger shoemaking industry in the area: K shoes and Bata once had plants locally, employing several thousand staff, instead of fewer than 300 at New Balance. Britain is a long way from recapturing its role as an industrial powerhouse.

Hopley, of the EEF, says for her members, this year has been, "good, but not spectacular".

Meanwhile, consumer spending is expanding strongly, borrowing is up and house prices are reviving across a swath of the country. Meadway says: "This is not a recovery, it's essentially a reversion: we're going back to the same kind of economy we saw in 2004 or 2005." Mark Carney, governor of the Bank of England, recently said he expected three-quarters of growth over the next year or so to come from consumption or housing – but many economists fear that's a risky model.

In the capital, some of the worst excesses of the property boom years are back. Aggressive estate agents are pushing leaflets through homeowners' doors and lining up scores of buyers to jostle with each other at "open days". Penthouses in the lavish Battersea Power Station redevelopment are expected to go on sale – most likely to overseas buyers – for £30m. And official figures show the UK now has a record number of estate agents.

In many parts of the country, the housing market is barely stirring from a five-year slumber. But the Bank's financial policy committee – the 10 people with the job of bursting future bubbles – have become so concerned about signs of froth that they have scaled back the government-backed Funding for Lending scheme so that it will no longer subsidise mortgages.

Some lenders have said the removal of the Bank's support, which Carney described as "taking our foot off the accelerator", will make little difference because the market has now gathered momentum of its own. But others believe the rise in mortgage rates that is likely to result will be enough to pour cold water on the growing mood of optimism.

As for consumer spending – the other major support for economic growth over the past six months – since wages have continued to lag behind inflation this latest shopping spree appears to have been fuelled not by consumers' growing spending power, but households dipping into their savings or taking out loans – including the short-term, high-cost payday loans that have caused growing political controversy.

"It feels as if there's a significant lag factor between the economic indicators and what it means for real people in their real lives," says Gillian Guy, chief executive of Citizens Advice, whose advisers see two million people with debt problems each year. She says that the spread of insecure, short-term contracts and part-time work, together with benefits cuts and paltry wage growth, have meant that many people in work are struggling to make ends meet.

That's a picture echoed by Chris Mould, executive chairman of the Trussell Trust, which runs 400 food banks up and down the country, providing three days' worth of emergency produce for people in dire straits. "We're seeing more and more people in crisis coming to food banks and we anticipate the numbers of people who find themselves in financial crisis as a proportion of the population to go up in the next few months. Generally, people are being severely squeezed by price rises – energy costs, rent, food – and the price rises in these areas are running way ahead of inflation."

Osborne hopes that, as the recovery gathers pace, employers will start to loosen the purse-strings, hiring new staff and offering more generous pay, helping to ease the squeeze for consumers and validating the mood of rising optimism. But both Guy and Mould fear it may be a long time before the people who come through their doors are able to make ends meet; and if rising real wages fail to materialise, the consumer upturn could prove short-lived. There's no doubt that the backdrop to the autumn statement is far rosier than anyone, not least Osborne himself, could have hoped six months ago. But Britain's economic resurgence is far less of a victory for the likes of Flimby's highly skilled machinists, and more of a blast from the "debt-fuelled" past than the coalition would have wished – and, as yet, there's no telling how long it will last.

Heard a thinktank on the BBC? You haven't heard the whole story

When the BBC interviews someone about smoking, it's supposed to reveal if the thinktank they work for receives funding from tobacco companies 

• 
• • George Monbiot
  • theguardian.com, Friday 29 November 2013 14.58 GMT

Mark Littlewood of the IEA spoke about cigarette packaging on Radio 4 this week. Not mentioned was that the institute receives funding from tobacco companies. Photograph: Alex Sturrock

Do the BBC's editorial guidelines count for anything? I ask because it disregards them every day, by failing to reveal the commercial interests of its contributors.

Let me give you an example. On Thursday the Today programme covered the plain packaging of cigarettes. It interviewed Mark Littlewood, director-general of the Institute of Economic Affairs, an organisation that calls itself a thinktank. Mishal Husain introduced Mark Littlewood as "the director of the Institute of Economic Affairs, and a smoker himself".

Fine. But should we not also have been informed that the Institute of Economic Affairs receives funding from tobacco companies? It's bad enough when the BBC interviews people about issues of great financial importance to certain corporations when it has no idea whether or not these people are funded by those corporations – and makes no effort to find out. It's even worse when those interests have already been exposed, yet the BBC still fails to mention them.

Both the Institute of Economic Affairs and the Adam Smith Institute have been funded by tobacco firms for years. The former has been funded by British American Tobacco since 1963, and has also been paid by Philip Morris and Japan Tobacco International. It has never come clean about this funding, and still refuses to say which other corporations sponsor it.

Yet, as you can see from its lists, the institute's spokespeople appear all over the media, arguing against any regulations tobacco companies don't like, without ever being obliged to reveal that tobacco companies help pay their wages.

Most of the so-called thinktanks flatly refuse to reveal their interests. I see the IEA, the Adam Smith Institute and other "thinktanks" which refuse to to say who funds them asindistinguishable from corporate lobbyists. I see them as doing the dirty work of corporations which won't put their own heads above the parapet because of the likely reputational damage.

I'm not the only one who sees them in this light. David Frum was formerly a fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, a rightwing pro-business thinktank. Drawing on his own experience, he explained that such groups "increasingly function as public-relations agencies".

The veteran corporate lobbyist Jeff Judson explained why thinktanks are so useful to corporations: "Lobbyists often work for specific clients who operate at the mercy of a regulator or lawmaker, making them vulnerable to retribution for daring to criticise or speak out. Thinktanks are virtually immune to retribution … Donors are confidential. The identity of donors to thinktanks is protected from involuntary disclosure."(Judson's confessions used to be available here. They have since been removed.)

Here's what Mark Littlewood said on the Today programme: "The evidence out of Australia, who, in their extreme unwisdom in my view, have offered to be the guinea pigs for planet earth on whether this policy works, having had plain packaging or standardised packaging in place for a year over there, the early evidence suggests no change at all on smoking prevalence. And, lo and behold, the black market in cigarettes has jumped markedly."

Mishal Husain then remarked, "Well that's one view, in a moment we'll hear that of the public health minister ..."

Yes, it is one view. The view of someone being paid by big tobacco. Should we not have known that?

Here's what the BBC's editorial guidelines say about such matters:
3.4.7: "We should make checks to establish the credentials of our contributors and to avoid being 'hoaxed'."
3.4.12: "We should normally identify on-air and online sources of information and significant contributors, and provide their credentials, so that our audiences can judge their status."
4.4.14: "We should not automatically assume that contributors from other organisations (such as academics, journalists, researchers and representatives of charities) are unbiased, and we may need to make it clear to the audience when contributors are associated with a particular viewpoint, if it is not apparent from their contribution or from the context in which their contribution is made."

Every day people from thinktanks are interviewed by the BBC's news and current affairs programmes without any such safeguards being applied. There is no effort to establish their credentials, in order to avoid being hoaxed into promoting corporate lobbyists as independent thinkers. There is no effort to identify on whose behalf they are speaking, "so that our audiences can judge their status." There is no attempt to make it clear to the audience that contributors are funded by the companies whose products they are discussing.

I would have no problem with the BBC interviewing people from these thinktanks if their interests were disclosed. If these organisations refuse to say who funds them, they should not be allowed on air. Their financial interests in the issue under discussion should be mentioned by the presenter when they are introduced.

I've been banging on about this for years, with no result at all. It seems that the only thing the BBC responds to is formal complaints. So please complain.

Here are three things you can do:
• Use the corporation's online complaints form
• Take the issue to the BBC Trust
• Complain to Feedback on Radio 4

Otherwise, expect our bastion of editorial values to keep collaborating in the time-honoured tradition of hoaxing us on behalf of corporate money.

Sledging is an art, and here are the secrets of it

HOWARD JACOBSON 

Friday 29 November 2013

You'll need a ripe vocabulary, an ear for cadence - and respect for your opponent

 

Today I write on “Sledging Considered As One of the Fine Arts”. Sledging, for those not familiar with the term, is the practice of on-field verbal intimidation much favoured by Australian cricketers though by no means confined to them. Every cricket team sledges, though some do it with more aplomb than others.

As with all aspects of sport, national character is the first determinant of success. The more refined and well-mannered the culture, the less accomplished its sledgers. I don’t say the corollary follows – I am too fond of Australia to put its love of vilification down to something primitive in the country’s psyche – but you only have to read Australia’s national poem, “The Bastard from the Bush” (“Fuck me dead, I’m Foreskin Fred, the Bastard from the Bush”), to see an essential connection between verbal violence and a remote colonial lifestyle.

That said, it’s important to place sledging in a tradition of insult-flinging to which even the most sophisticated literature owes a debt. Drama, we are told, originates in the sacrificial, propitiatory rituals of ancient communities. We put on a show for the gods and hope they applaud. Poetry originates in the impulse to exchange insults with fellow mortals. “Get back to where you come from, that’s somewhere in the bush” is how the Captain of the Push responds to the challenge to his authority thrown down by Foreskin Fred. “May the itching piles torment you, may corns grow on your feet,/ May crabs as big as spiders attack your balls a treat./ Then, when you’re down and out, and a hopeless bloody wreck,/ May you slip back through your arsehole, and break your bloody neck.”

Indistinguishable from the satisfaction of getting your own back, hurling abuse and imagining someone else’s suffering is the joy of deploying rhyme and rhythm. We never curse better than we curse in verse. Primary school playgrounds resound with the scurrilous ditties small children make up about one another. My best friend Martin Cartwright couldn’t leave the classroom without hearing “Farty Marty/ Spoils the party”. For years I had to put up with “Howardy Cowardy Custard/ Thinks his pants have rusted”. And a poor religious boy called Manny was yoked with such tireless invention and horrid ingenuity to fanny that his parents had finally to remove him from the school.

Flyting, it’s called in Scotland – where poets would formalise the loathing they felt for each other into a contest of invective strictly governed by the laws of poesy. “Come kiss my Erse,” was how the 16th-century poet Montgomerie began his assault on the poet Polwart. “Kiss the Cunt of the Cow,” Polwart retorted in kind. We can perhaps look forward to a resumption of such well-honed hostilities when the campaign for Scottish independence begins in earnest.

At carnival time in Trinidad, some of the country’s smartest poets, singers and comedians take to the stage to compete in Extempo War, an off-the-cuff battle of wits in which the grosser they are to one another, the more the audience likes it. Whether the Dozens – the game of dissing, snapping and toasting played on the streets of Harlem and St Louis – is an offspring of Extempo War I don’t know, but it seems likely. It values the same qualities of quickness of wit and coarse discourtesy.

Another name for it is Ya Mama – unmannerliness to one another’s mothers being part of the fun. “You wanna play the dozens, well the dozens is a game,” rhymed the comedian George Carlin, “But the way I fuck your mother is a goddam shame.”

Which is a bit ripe even for the Gabba where the Australian captain, Michael Clarke, was heard to say to say to an English player, “Get ready for a f****** broken arm.” I resort to asterisks, not because Clarke did, but because that was how most of the papers reported it. Myself, I think asterisks make what he said even worse. Clarke himself has a baby face, so his outburst appeared doubly shocking, but some among his team look as though they were born with asterisks in their mouths.

What concerns me most about this incident, however, is the placing of the expletive. What Flyters, Extempo Warriors and kids in the school playground all know is that word order matters. Put a fucking where a fucking shouldn’t be and you take fatally from the affront. “Get ready for a fucking broken arm,” doesn’t work for two reasons. 1: It doesn’t scan. And 2: The epithet’s misaligned; it’s not the “broken” you’re meant to be cursing but the “arm”.

I haven’t played much cricket myself. Table tennis was my game. But I was always careful at the table to be precise when I swore. Attentive to both the music and the meaning, I’d have said to my opponent, “Get ready for a broken fucking arm.” Except that I wouldn’t, of course, have said that because it’s pretty difficult to break someone’s arm with a celluloid ball measuring 40mm in diameter and weighing 2.7g.

This could be the reason so few words are exchanged between players in the course of a game of ping-pong. You look ridiculous issuing threats when you don’t have the equipment to carry them out. Or the will, come to that. Somewhere at the back of every table tennis player’s mind is the knowledge that your opponent is as sad as you are. Why compound the lack of self-esteem that made him a table tennis player in the first place?

So humanity comes into the equation after all. To sledge with style requires a ripe vocabulary, an ear for cadence, a fastidiousness as to the positioning of epithets and respect for your opponent. You want to topple him from high estate to low. You don’t want him down and out to start with. Australians don’t always get that.

Happiness: the silver lining of economic stagnation?

A study suggests that national wellbeing peaks at £22k average income. But that doesn't mean there's no point in pushing for wealth

• 
• • Julian Baggini
  • theguardian.com, Thursday 28 November 2013 16.56 GMT

More money, more problems? Photograph: Roger Tooth for the Guardian

It's time to rewrite the story of the financial crisis. Far from being a disaster movie, it was in fact a tale of salvation. As for the green shoots of recovery we are now seeing, they are virulent weeds to be stamped out.

That would seem to be the conclusion to draw from a new study that suggests ever-rising national wealth is the source of decreased life satisfaction. Looking at data from around the world, Warwick University's Eugenio Proto and Aldo Rustichini of University of Minnesota conclude that average wellbeing rises with average income only up to around £22k per head per annum. After that, it slips back again. Britain is more or less at that sweet spot, which suggests economic stagnation may be an excellent way of avoiding the problems of poverty without acquiring the problems of wealth.

You may well be sceptical. Even the authors acknowledge that many people "still prefer to live in richer countries, even if this would result in a decreased level of life satisfaction". In other words, people are overall more satisfied by less life satisfaction, which suggests we should take the whole concept of "life satisfaction" with a pinch of salt.

Any attempt to measure wellbeing in a robust way is fraught with problems. One of the most obvious is that people naturally rank their contentment relative to what appears to be a reasonable expectation, and that varies with time and place. That's why, when offered to rank their life satisfaction a scale of one to 10, most choose around seven or eight, irrespective of era or nation.

Even setting aside these doubts, there are more important reasons to be cautious about how we interpret the data. What it does appear to show, and which almost all studies support, is that having a low income is more of a problem that having a high one is a benefit. From a public policy point of view, that suggests the priority should continue to be raising the life chances of the worst off, not those of the better off, or even the "squeezed middle".

If we achieved that, is it really the case that there would be no point in then increasing wealth even more? Not so fast. We have to ask what explains the levelling-off in perceived quality of life. Proto and Rustichini suggest that the key is "higher GDP leads to higher aspirations … driven by the existence of more opportunities or by comparison with the Joneses". But this "sets up a race between aspiration and realisation; when realisation is lower than aspiration, the psychological cost paid is disappointment". Worse, this creates a feedback loop, as the let-down further widens the aspiration-realisation gap.

What should be clear is that this is not an inevitable consequence of greater wealth. Some individuals learn to treat their material comfort as a blessing and are not concerned by the prospect that they could have yet more, or that others already do. The materialist treadmill is not one we are obliged to get on once we reach a certain level of income.

In short, the problem is explained by the familiar idea that money is not valuable in itself, but only for what it can do. The failure of western societies to convert greater wealth into greater wellbeing is in essence a failure to use our wealth wisely. This should not surprise us. The majority of people alive today and throughout history have not been accustomed to plenty. Humanity is on a steep learning curve and many of the lessons we need to learn go against our natural tendency to acquire first and ask questions later.

That's why the debate about the relative merits of increased GDP and "gross domestic happiness" are misguided. They are not mutually exclusive options. The optimal strategy would be one in which we grew wealth but harnessed it better to enable people to really flourish, rather than just have more stuff. What we should be afraid of is the pointless march of a narrow materialism, not the resumption of economic growth in itself. A richer world in which the money was well spent is something with which we should all be well satisfied.