What Frightens Me

There has been a lot written recently about the proposed rise in tuition fees at English universities so I am going to write only a few short points on my view.

There are three things that particularly scare me about this proposed change.

1. Education for those with money -

Poorer students will find it harder to get into university. Whilst there will be safeguards in place it will be students with rich parents who will be able to afford a higher education and not those with lower middle-class or working class families. University educations are no longer the preserve of the elite, they are becoming increasingly essential in an ever-competative job market. I fear it will be the case that people from poorer families will suffer not only due to having a lack of opportunity for further education, but suffer in the job market as well.

2. They can charge what they decide -

This frightens me. Whilst I there will surely be an upper limit in place not all universities will charge the full amount possible, it would be unviable. Universities will still need to attract enough students to pay for the courses. But what is to stop the top universities from charging the full amount possible? It would lead to Oxbridge and universities of its ilk being able to charge a considerably higher amount than less popular universities as they know that no matter what they charge there will still be students queuing up to study at their establishments. This will naturally lead to those better off going to the better universities. I fear this particularly as not only will it be more difficult for a less well off prospective student to be able to afford a university education, it will also be more difficult for them to afford choice in their establishment and potentially a better education. Do we really want a situation where richer people are better educated?

3. We have been lied to -

By 'we' I mean students. There was a huge push by the Liberal Democrats about abolition of tuition fees in the election campaign and it convinced a lot of progressive students to vote Lib Dem. They abolished them in Scotland and they claimed they intended to do the same in England. However it now appears not only have they rescinded this promise now that they are in government, but they are actually going in the other direction. Vince Cable can claim that they 'need' to do it due to the debt they have 'inherited' from Labour, but the simple truth is that they don't. The coalition is hell-bent on cutting quickly and ruthlessly. Cuts do need to be made, but not to the extent that they currently are. Our credit rating is good, we do not need to balance the books. Remember John Keynes? He was the one who showed that the books do not need to stay constantly balanced. Blame him if you like for the debt, but do not forget that Keynes was not Labour, he was a Liberal Democrat.

All in all it is frightening. English students, come up to Scotland.

The Coalition Broke My Promise

It is the perfect situation to be in. You spend months on the campaign trail promising the British public what you will do if you are elected. Even more importantly you make promises about what you will not do if elected.

Often these promises are about taxes. 'I will not raise taxes' a prospective governing party may bellow to the people. Or perhaps they are about keeping benefits. 'Child benefits will not be cut!' That ought to please the hundreds of thousands of people who rely on the Child Benefit system, and the wider demographic of people who believe protection of children to be paramount in any modern democracy.

And it works. Well it sort of works, you poll relatively well and manage to get a fair share of representation in parliament. You cosy up to one of the other parties and you are part of that magical political term; a coalition government.

This may sound familiar, after-all both Australia and the United Kingdom are currently testing this new-found style of democracy. This will sound particularly familiar to voters in the United Kingdom. Myself and the rest of the electorate of this country sat and listened to the Liberal Democrats stressing the importance of keeping child benefits. Not cutting them. Not changing them. Not even making them means-tested. So imagine the dismay Liberal voters will have when they woke up today (October 4th 2010) to discover the coalition government is planning on stopping child benefits for anyone who are earning more than £44,000 a year.

Surely this will be damaging, breaking a promise a mere six months into government. But it isn't. This is the magic of the word 'coalition'. 'Oh it isn't us', protest the promise breakers, 'It is our dear coalition partners who want to implement this policy.' Magic isn't it?

How long will this work for? How long can the government break promises, and make unpopular decisions whilst coming out blameless just because they can hide behind 'coalition'?

The truth is neither party need give up the word, they can allow for the other party to imply they are to blame for certain policies so long as that other party allow the first party to blame them. I urge you to not allow the 'coalition' aspect of the government to forgive the government for breaking promises or establishing policies governments normally wouldn't get away with. Coalition does not give them the right to break promises.

A Drinking Man's Socialist

I am struck with a disillusion in politics that comes from a lack of any true socialist voice or figure in the UK in 2010 politics. With Labour a fully established centre-left/Thatcherite/New Deal/Third Way (or whatever the hell you want to call it) party where does one look for socialism?

It seems the new 'right on' attitude is that of Liberalism, but I see myself almost as opposed to Liberal thought as I am to Conservative thought. I am inherently not a Liberal. Now to qualify that statement there are certainly aspects of Liberalism that are key to my political thought, but without exception these are liberal theories that are to the compliment of equality as a justice, rather than to the detriment. Yet amongst my peers the current buzz-word is 'progressive', and according to this defined progressive politics Liberalism is at the forefront. Ironically the party which proclaims to be Liberal is the one currently propping up a Conservative government. A progressive conservative government is a paradox too far.

But I am not a Liberal and I am not a conservative. I am a socialist.

Who do I look to? Really I have the Scottish Socialists (or whatever Tommy Sheridan is calling his current sex club) or George Galloway. Both of them bigoted Scottish arseholes (in my opinion). It seems that in the media and mainstream politics there are certain criteria one must fit to be considered a pigeon holed 'right on' socialist in Scotland. They are as follows:

1. You Must be Opposed to the Iraq War.

2. You Must wish for an Independent Scotland

3. You Must not Drink.

I'll take this point by point beginning with point 1. As it happens I am not wholly in favour of the Iraq War (lets rephrase that and call it the 'Iraq Intervention' from now on). I think we went into it under false pretences and I am not entirely convinced we were told the God's honest truth by the government when we went in. However I think going in was the correct decision at the time, and I believe more good has come from it than bad. However as a Socialist I cannot say that. I have to be opposed to this 'Illegal War' caused by that dirty 'War Mongerer' Tony Blair.

Why? Using our army to dismantle a pseudo-fascist religious dictatorship is surely right up the street of political socialism? No? We must be pacifists now must we? It's understandable, that great Socialist Stalin was far more heroic when he was making pacts with Hitler than when he was liberating Poland wasn't he?

Now on to point number 2. This one I truly don't understand but Scottish Nationalism seems to be key to Scottish Socialism. I'm not going to dwell on this topic too much, but how many of you really think National Socialism is a good idea?

And with great fanfare I bring you to the final point, you cannot drink. This may sound ridiculous but socialists don't seem to drink anymore. Not only that but they criticise people who do drink. Despite the great socialist drinkers of the past now alcohol is demonised (along with cigarettes might I add). The biggest culprit for this is Mr. Galloway who has layed into the likes of Christopher Hitchens, the entire House of Commons, the entire House of Lords and the entire apathetic electorate at one time or another for drinking.

Really George, go back to your teetotal dining club with Saddam and just let us be lefties who enjoy a bloody drink.

Anyway, rant over, there is no socialist I can admire. Perhaps I will make do with Labour. After-all, they at least manage a some-what decent manifesto without sounding like preachy, whiney, arseholes.

Grand Final Scotland Style

So yesterday was the last saturday in September, which to fans of Australian Rules Football means one thing; Grand Final day. The AFL Grand Final is the most important game on the footy calendar, it decides who wins the league and who takes the flag. This year an epic battle for footy supremacy was in order as St Kilda and Collingwood qualified to battle at the 100,000 capacity MCG. As a St Kilda supporter this game meant something. As a resident of Scotland however, it meant getting up at 4am to catch the game. Here is my photo diary of Grand Final day!

First picture, I was up and ready with my Saints gear, looking outside at pitch blackness. It truly was the middle of the night.

Ready for the trip to the pub. Streets deserted but I'm excited, ready to see the Grand Final against Collingwood!

First beer: 5am and I'm sitting there with a beer for breakfast. It's OK, the Grand Final only comes round once a year...

Half time: Game isn't going so well, behind after a pretty dismal quarter. I retained confidence...the beer helped! Nice to see a packed pub at 7am.

It was a draw! My dismayed and confused reaction, I have to come back next week.

People I watched the game with. Three Saints supporters and one bloke going for the Pies.

Now for pub number two to watch the game again. Pretend I don't know the score and watch to try and figure out how it was a draw!

This is me trying to be creative, The Grand final on the TV with Edinburgh Castle in the background.

Another pub full of people watching the Grand Final.

Confirmation! Grand Final Part Two: This Time It's Personal. I think Stephen Milne may argue that it already way.

A couple of Sainters who watched the game twice as well...I say a couple of Sainters, one actually went for Brisbane.

11pm, a number of hours after leaving the pub and I am absolutely shattered, stopped by a mates flatwarming, still in my Saints Gear.

Met up with a Nintendo 64 controller and sipped my final beer.

Back where I started, dark once again as it approached midnight.

It was a really enjoyable day, not sure what to make of it though, a draw! In the Grand Final! Watching it from Scotland was interesting, it's not often

it's acceptable to drink at five in the morning, but god it was good. All this sets up for next week to do it all over again. Next time there will be facepaint!

Anyone But England

I've read plenty recently about the Scots (and other 'Celtic' nation's) refusal to support our neighbours and fellow countrymen England in the World Cup. English commentators have blamed it on our rank jealousy that glorious England are in the world cup whilst we are not, whilst Scottish blogs and articles have pointed to the British media’s constant chattering about England deserving to win the world cup. Whilst I would love to see Scotland represented in the World Cup I’m not jealous of England, I’m more jealous of teams like Honduras, surely Scotland have to be better than Honduras! And yes the England based media is annoying come the World Cup, it isn’t enough to make me actively support other nations. No, the real reason I support teams playing England is far pettier than that.

 

The truth is I don’t like what England FC represent. Football teams to me don’t represent their nations, or indeed the culture of their nations. What they represent is the soccer culture. I absolutely love England’s culture, high tea, Pimms, Cricket on the lawn and the stiff upper lift. The quirky nature of England is brilliant and represents all of the UK to me. I love the Dorset and Summerset cultures, the Yorkshire culture, the city cultures, the history and the strange nuances that somehow make me proud to be British. The UK is a unique and downright ridiculous country, and England plays a significant part of that. I love it.

 

England the football team represents something different to me though. They don’t represent Pimms on the yard and the bloody history of England. The football team represents the ‘Engerland’ culture. I picture fat balding men thinking football is England’s gift to the world, as if all other countries deserve to give them respect. A hooligan ‘Gods Gift to football’ nature which I utterly loathe. I was asked recently who the first person I thought of when someone mentioned English football. Surely Bobby Charlton, Gazza or maybe Wayne Rooney would be my answer. It wasn’t. The first person I think of is the person I most associate with English football; John Motson. His Engerland obsession yet utter inability to pronounce foreign player’s names represent the English football culture perfectly to me.

 

I think about the teams I do like in international competitions, Germany for example. The German football culture isn’t Lederhosen and Europhilia, it is a stiff combination of East and West Germany, a football team where perfection is key. No stone left unturned, with the happiest fans who deserve to be arrogant, yet somehow aren’t. They drink beer and enjoy themselves, friends with everyone else (except maybe the Dutch). Then there is Argentina. I don’t think about a poverty stricken South American country, blessed with beauty, but without the tourism its neighbour Brazil enjoys. No, I think of Diego Maradona. He is one of my favourite people in football, a man who does everything to excess, an overweight former drug addict who is somehow possibly the best footballer there has ever been. And how can anyone dislike a team with Lional Messi in it?

 

Yes it may be petty, but I just cannot stand that English football culture, a nasty arrogant fat man who orders beers in Spain by putting an ‘O’ on the end of every word. Anyway, don’t worry England; I hate the French team too.

Happy as a Pig in Muck

Tonight I combined the two somewhat distinct pleasures of reading the philosophy of Jeremy Bentham and watching the trashy television show Britain’s Got Talent. I enjoyed both, but they were completely different types of pleasure. Bentham was intellectually stimulating, providing me with an interesting insight into the levels and meaning of happiness. It provided me with a basis to think philosophically and elaborated on intelligent and important life-issues. It is an enjoyment that I thrive in. I study philosophy due to this kind of enjoyment and thought-provoking ideas. It’s an enjoyment I experience time and time again and go out of my way to find this kind of enjoyment.

Britain’s Got Talent was completely different. The pantomime entertained me in an amusing and simplistic way. Booing and hissing at the acts I disliked, complimenting the acts I thought were good and acting dismayed with the opinions of the judges. It was Simple, tacky, entertainment, mass-packaged for instant and effortless enjoyment. I would never go out of my way to experience this, but feeling unwell and tired it was nice to relax to and lose my mind to senseless entertainment.

Bentham made an outrageous claim. He said that pleasure from ‘quality’ sources is a greater happiness than that from base pleasures. To read is a greater happiness than to laugh at a clown falling down a stair-case. I realised that today I coincidentally put his theory to the test. I experienced happiness from reading philosophy and happiness watching a base form of entertainment. Both made me happy, but was the former happiness better than the latter?

To me it was. It was a happiness I enjoy looking for, find interesting to delve into and time and time again will enjoy considering. After-all I wouldn’t even be writing this if it weren’t for Bentham. I got instant ‘canned’ happiness from Britain’s Got Talent, but it’s is like the buzz from drinking red bull. It’s a sudden, fast, immediate rush of happiness that leaves as fast as it arrives. I found it a lesser happiness.

This begs an important question, is this the case just to me, or is it across the board? There are plenty of people who look forward to shows like Britain’s Got Talent much like I look forward to learning from philosophical texts. Maybe to our Britain’s Got Talent fan watching these shows gives them a proper, lasting, and instilling happiness that is akin to the happiness I get from philosophy. Or perhaps our Britain’s Got Talent fan is missing out in the type of happiness I can experience, perhaps this person only knows the fizzy pop happiness I experienced this evening when watching the show.

Bentham is certainly correct with regards to people like myself who enjoy these ‘loftier’ pleasures. Perhaps though to people who do not Bentham is incorrect.

The Death of a Sales Job

 

Yesterday I saw the true face of modern capitalism. I was invited to a second stage interview with a door to door sales company; this interview involved me observing an entire day of sales. I was teamed up with one a senior salesman and sent out to watch him work. Just in case it offends anyone I wont use his name, or the name of the company I was with, these are simply my observations and opinions about what I saw, no intention to de-flame anyone.  

 

The work was simple; he represented a charity, Sense Scotland in this case, and would go door to door convincing people to set up a direct debit to the charity. For this act of good-will our salesman gets commission based on how much the customer decides to sign up.

 

My man would lie time and time again to get his sale. He wasn’t a salesman to them, he was a fundraiser. As soon as the door shut he was back to his brutal honest self. False promises of prizes, stories about anything and everything that would endear him to people, lies about the generous response the neighbourhood had given. Even on the first door we got to we had, according to the customer, already talked to ‘loads’ of people in the area. Let me clarify, the man I was shadowing wasn’t a bad man by any means, he was out for himself, but not in a malicious or hurtful way. His interest was getting paid, just like everybody else. His payment came from sales, and his sales came through lying.

 

“We were ecstatic when we got Sense Scotland” he confided in me, “for deaf and blind, disabled Scottish children, It is perfect”. He didn’t mean it was perfect to help out this charity, but perfect to help him pull at the heart strings of potential customers. It was almost as good as when they represented the charity for pre-natal deaths. Nothing pulls at the heart-strings as much as when you can ask, in the deepest mock-sincerity, “Couldn’t you spare two pounds a month to save the life of a dying baby?”

 

A lot of people are savvy, most people are savvy. But these people are trained to break down the defences we all have. If people already gave to charity then the enthusiastic thank you came from the salesman, followed by compliments to their generosity. But surely if they already give to charity, they can give a payment for one month to this one and then cancel it. Just one month you pay Ten small pounds extra. Great, here are my bank details. The salesman knows fine well the short period generally lasts considerably longer. Not that it matters to him, he’s got his sale, he’s got his commission.

 

Most people said no, some refused to say hello or even give their names. One woman looked at us and blankly said ‘No, I’ve been warned about you’ and slammed the door shut. Others would take the salesman down the country path before at the last minute, just when our salesman thinks he has his golden goose, the potential customer would change his or her mind. They were my favourites, the ones wasting the salesman’s time. The patter flowing off our man for him to get knocked back.

 

“I treat every customer as I would a girl in a bar” said he. It was true. He would flirt with them, entice them, show what he had to offer but let them be aware that they could miss the opportunity. He’d be a bit brutal, if the girl had a boyfriend he wouldn’t let that deter him. If the girl was definitely not interested there was no time for niceties, immediately on to the next girl. He didn’t leave his number; it’s a now or never offer with him. You can check him out on the internet of course, but only after he’s sure he’s not going to nab you on the spot.

 

It was fascinating, rejection after rejection didn’t matter, he got his five sales and that was all he needed. His day was paid for and he made a pretty packet out of it. Is it ethical to make money out of charity? I don’t know. I don’t think it is unethical, but something about it made me feel uneasy about myself. It makes money for the charity, but I felt like the operation was about duping good, honest people, into handing over their money. The lies our dear salesman told weren’t lies to get people to give money to charity, they were lies so he could receive his commission. Simple as that. A very "Major Barbara" style situation. It’s how charities unfortunately operate, don’t blame the process when the system is broken.

 

I got back to base and filled in a short ‘test’. Simple questions such as ‘What is more important, the product or the sales pitch?’ Of course the pitch is more important, the product doesn’t matter. Yes today we were doing charities but the process would be exactly the same if we were raising money for Nuclear War. I doubt any of our sales team would bat an eye-lid if this were the case. I answered each question correctly and had to await my final interview. Sat in the waiting room I could hear all the people from the various places around Scotland being debriefed, boasting about the amount of sales they got, capitalist camaraderie with hints of jealousy. It reminded me of being in a phone shop when you sign a contract. Congratulations to the girl who sells you the contract, with a look of jealousy on the face of the man who spent half an hour talking to someone who decided to try else where.

 

In the next room they all went. I could hear singing.  Not sweet music, but a sort of relief. It’s hard to explain, but it was a similar role to those motivational lectures people are so keen on at the moment. “Oggy Oggy Oggy” came the chant next door, “Oy, Oy, Oy” came the retort. Well done everybody, you’ve done well for yourselves and done well for the company. The charity isn’t mentioned here, only profit. There is talk of laptops, iPhones, cameras and wide-screen TV’s. Materialistic values amerced in the company.  

 

I was beckoned through from the ‘Assistant Owner’ (a job title). She asked me why I should be given a job. Here I lied, I told the same lies everyone tells. She told me she wasn’t impressed, if I couldn’t sell myself to her then I couldn’t sell myself to customers. I started again, pretending I was a politician being grilled by Jeremy Paxman on Newsnight. I was enjoying myself. Everything I said was emphasised, alliteration, forceful sentences. It was a speech rather than an answer.

 

“Congratulations, you’ve got the job, welcome to the team”. She left the room to get my buddy the salesman, he also congratulated me. I smiled, aware that I didn’t really want the job, but it looked as if I was going to do it, maybe for a week, it couldn’t possibly be any longer than that. “You can start tomorrow” I said “no, I can start Monday”. Her tone of voice changed from the happy, friendly, helpful boss to the malicious bitchy capitalist boss. I was told on no uncertain terms if I couldn’t start tomorrow, I wouldn’t get the job. Sheepishly, and tiredly, I accepted.

 

Of course I didn’t turn up, I phoned up this morning and told them I wouldn’t be accepting the job. I couldn’t work in that environment, fake friendship as part of not only the job but the entire office environment. No-one there was my friend. I got on with the salesman; I honestly believe he is a good person, but the company itself I cannot say that for.

 

It’s been a long time since I’ve experienced something as interesting, yet sour. Happy as I am that I could have got the job, passed the interview etc etc there is something that has made me feel uneasy. Even charity is about profit. Whilst I accept this is how money is raised I don’t like it. I like sitting in my little book-shop in Stockbridge raising money for Shelter. The managers get paid but they are still there for altruistic reasons, good people with genuine warmth. None of this selfish attitude of doing well by other people for the good of themselves, in Shelter people are compassionate and friendly for the sake of being compassionate and friendly. It suits me more. Perhaps I am a stupid idealist, and perhaps I could have raised a lot of money for not only charity but also myself. But I would be compromising my character and my beliefs. I think I will make a donation to Sense Scotland, they seem to be a good charity, but I will make my donation online straight to the charity, I’m not paying for any salesmen’s iPhone.