Thursday, 24 November 2011

Whitehall v Town Hall


There’s an old joke about married couples which says the husband makes the important decisions: whether they shall recognize Red China, what they shall believe about the financial crisis, the couple’s position on global warming; while the wife deals with the unimportant stuff; where the family live, how many children they will have, where they’ll go to school, what they all will eat tonight and where they’ll take a holiday.

Government in Britain is a little like that. David Cameron gets to hobnob with Mr Obama and Frau Merkel, and maybe pass a bill about reforming the NHS.

But the stuff we car about is all done by largely ignored and derided local authorities. Caring for the elderly, collecting the bins, mending holes in the road and the quality of the police, education and health services on the ground is all run my local councils.

Central government has tried to take much power away from local councils because it provides most of the money, and it restricts the way the authorities can raise their own money, capping council taxes and the like.

This has been a helpful strategy for central government.  When things go right at the local hospital, or crime figures drop, Whitehall can present this as a result of its policies, of its money.

When things don’t go right, then that’s the fault of local councillors, and if some or most of those councils are run by opposition parties then even better, not only are the councilors incompetent, they are ideologically motivated as well.

So the pattern has been to ringfence money, or restrict it while pushing responsibility for improving services down to local authorities.

Until now.

Communities and Local Government Secretary Eric Pickles decision to find £250,000 to allow councils to carry out weekly bin collections is a fascinating indication of a tiny, but perhaps telling, shift in the balance of power between Whitehall and town halls.

A few years ago Mr Pickles might have made a speech at his party’s conference decrying those authorities which have gone to fortnightly collections. He could have derided them as tree-huggers whose concern for the environment didn’t extend to preventing rats and foxes from spreading trash over the streets.

But the narrative of the last 15 months of government has been cuts. Even the most inattentive will know, by now, that the coalition government is cutting on public spending. And many of the services affected by those cuts are provided by local authorities.

So now a council can decide to go to fortnightly bin collections (for which I might add, there are very good reasons) and deflect any criticisms by invoking the cuts.

Its fortnightly collections or the council has to cut care for the elderly, or sack some lollipop ladies, or close a library.

And none of it is our fault, you’ll have heard of the cuts in our grant made by the government.

The government has made such a virtue of its deficit reduction plan, that it has to own the effects, it cannot now blame local councils.

And if those effects is something that matters to Conservative voters, as weekly bin collections seem to particularly, that leaves it in a bind.

Which means that it is in the odd position of sacking sailors in the same week as it is finding extra money to keep bin men busier.  And I wonder if there may yet be not another downside to the announcement.

When some other service disappears; meals on wheels say, or a youth centre or two, voters may wonder why their rubbish is still assiduously collected every week; can this be a real priority? Assuming that Mr Pickles’ quarter of a million pounds is ringfenced specifically for refuse collection, councilors can reply that the decision to prioritize bins over maternity units was made by government ministers, not at the town hall.

For years local authorities were the whipping boys of politics in Britain; blamed for the failures, going cap in hand to Whitehall for money, ignored by voters.

But the focus on cuts has shown us how much we rely on the town hall for the services which matter to us; and national politicians desire always to take centre stage is now rebounding upon them, and costing them money.

Thursday, 3 November 2011

Thomas's First and Second Laws

Thomas's Law of Surely:  Any argument which includes the word "surely" is wrong.

Thomas's Law of Oxbridge:  Many people go to University. Some of those people go to Oxford or Cambridge.  A large section of these people will take every opportunity to inform you of that fact, for ever, until they die.

Sunday, 30 October 2011

All that glisters

All that glisters is not gold.  Shakespeare wrote that.  it’s a message written on a portrait of death found inside a gold casket in the Merchant of Venice.  It is followed by “Gilded tombs do worms enfold.”
 
And what does it mean? Well, I think it’s pretty plain; not everything is as it may appear. More specifically, not everything that is attractive or shiny has actual worth.
 
And it is a lesson that can be applied to things or people; not everyone who is witty or charming or charismatic  is moral.
 
So not everything that looks nice (glisters) has intrinsic worth (is gold.)
 
And that, we can surely all agree with.
 
Except. 

Gold.  It has no intrinsic worth.
 
(I know there are some industrial uses that gold is critical for now, but  there aren’t many, and anyway they hadn’t been invented in the 16th century, and they are certainly not the reason why the ring on my finger is made from gold.)
 
Gold is valuable because it glisters. Because it glisters and there’s not much of it.
 
It is valued purely for its appearance.
 
(Yes, yes, it’s rare, it doesn’t tarnish, it can be worked easily and beaten very thin.  But if gold had all those properties and instead of a warm, ermm, golden glow, it gave off the lustre of say, baby shit, would we still love it so?  Thought not.)
 
It’s valuable because we value it. And we value it, because it’s valuable. In that respect it’s a bit like those shares which go up in price so more people buy them. Which drives the price up. So even more people want to buy those shares which are doing so well.
 
 It’s a confidence trick we play on ourselves.
 
It’s also interesting that this seems to be a surprising thought. When I mentioned my theory at a dinner table, my friends got quite heated in trying persuade me that gold was intrinsically valuable.  We have accepted its worth for so long that it has become self-evident.
 
But there it is. All that glisters isn’t gold. It’s true.  But it is also true that if ‘gold’ for Shakespeare  stands for intrinsic worth, then gold, also, is not ‘gold’.

Wednesday, 21 September 2011

The day the world changed?

A piece of mine where I suggest that 9/11 didn't have an enormous effect on the world in terms of lasting change.

http://www.dealign.co.uk/art/130911/change.html