Friday, April 13, 2012

Alcoholic ginger beer

No claims for originality here, except that I have metricated and reconfigured the amounts to fit my saucepan and fermenting vat.

To make 10 litres of  ginger beer: 
  • Use 0.36kg of peeled and grated ginger root, 2.1kg's of sugar, 2.5 lemons - juice, but also zest. 
  • Boil and simmer all ingredients in a large pan for 30 mins (enough to get really lovely ginger taste). 
  • My biggest saucepan is 5l, so I do all the ingredients in that much water then pour into fermenting barrel, and top up with cold water.
  • Make sure water is lukewarm and add 1 sachet of champagne yeast - I bought it on ebay for next to nothing.
Wait 7 days. Bottle, leave for further 7 days at room temperature. 
This is actually the most tricky part. I use plastic water bottles, and I make sure I squeeze them when bottling to allow room for expansion. I tried bottling in glass once and was lucky to escape with my life. 
After seven days chill and enjoy!

According to the original recipe the finished product will be around 4 - 5 % proof. Not sure if this is true, but it has quite a kick anyway.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Extreme Citizen Science


Last week I attended the 2nd Citizen Cyberscience Summit on behalf of my employer, Ovum. It was probably the most exciting place I've been – at least in a work context – for the last ten years. The conference had been moved at the last minute to the Royal Geographical Society to cope with the unexpected number of attendees, and it was buzzing from the very beginning.

The crowd were mostly young, with a preponderance of postgrads, though there were a few greyheads too. I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was fairly evenly balanced between men and women – much more so than most of the industry events that I attend. Everyone was really friendly, in the kind of open smiley way that I usually associate with music festivals. The discussions were lively and good-natured; I think I only heard one tetchy comment across the entire three days.

The fact that I'm writing this up now, having taking three days to digest, is of course a reflection of my age. Most of the other participants were blogging and tweeting as they went, as well as checking out the websites and blogs of the presenters as they spoke.

There was a trend towards the more weird and wonderful as the conference went on. The first day included some fairly mainstream citizen science projects, which were about crowd-sourcing effort and attention – using wannabee-scientists to do some heavy lifting on science projects that might otherwise be difficult to do. Examples included the rather wonderful Oldweather.org, which is about getting historic weather data for climate models. The data source is the logbooks of the Royal Navy, since ships' captains recorded detailed observations (along with time and position) every day of every voyage. The logbooks themselves have been scanned, but the images are not susceptible to machine reading – so volunteers do the reading and the data entry. The reward for this are only symbolic, but the results are fantastic. In one year 24,000 volunteers have transcribed 800,000 logbook pages. Similar projects included Planet Hunters, and Stardust@home.

Interesting to note that there were quite a few Israelis around – the conference was organised by Mordechai “Muki” Haklay of UCL – and his students, organised at the “Extreme Citizens Cyberscience network. Ofer Arazy from the University of Alberta spoke about citizen science as a peer production community, and invoked the spirit of another Israeli, Yochai Benkler. On the second day I found myself sitting next to Liora Malki-Epshtein, another lecturer from UCL. Given recent discussions I've had with friends about what a self-centred, materialistic and unequal society Israel is, I wondered whether the interest in co-production is a sort of protest against the loss of an earlier culture which was - at least ostensibly – committed to equality, sacrifice and voluntary participation.

By the second day – at UCL itself – the tone and the content were more radical and more avowedly political. Instead of focusing on getting citizens to support and participate in 'proper science', there was more emphasis on science that served community activists. There were projects on community noise mapping through smartphones and web apps, projects on community air qualitymonitoring through self-built connected sensors, and a DIY "satellite" imaging kit based on helium balloons and open source software from the US-based Public Laboratory for Open Technology and Science (PLOTS).

The inspiration of open source, in terms of both hardware and software, was everywhere. One of the sponsors was the small Italian open source electronics company Arduino, and one of the most compelling speakers was Tom Igoe, a co-founder of the company as well as a lecturer in the completely wonderful Interactive Telecommunications Program at New York University. On the third day he led a workshop where those taking part (including yours truly, who hasn't made anything more complicated than a curry for years, and who last wrote a line of code in 1977) built their own sensors from scratch and then programmed them using C.

All around were people sharing things, making stuff together, swapping ideas. There were DIY sensors to monitor the levels in sewage outfalls – the fabulous Dontflushme project, which also included an internet-connected lightbulb.

A few times in my life I've had the sensation of a curtain being pulled back to reveal another world – where all sorts of great things have been going on, out of site, for a long time. I had the same feeling at the beginning of the 1990s, when I discovered the magazine Mondo 2000 and the first few editions of Wired. During the day I was writing reports about “value added network services” for telecoms companies, and in the evenings I read about what weird groups of scientists and 'hackers' were using the internet for. There was, of course, no connection between the two activities. The telecoms companies were not interested in the publication and knowledge-sharing tools of a bunch of particle physicists; they had serious networks to build and commercialize, running important services like EDI, X.400 email and store and forward fax networks.

I had the same feeling at this event. No-one here was likely to become rich from their inventions, and most of them had no interest in doing so. The stuff they are building isn't “enterprise-grade”, it isn't secure, and there isn't a viable business model. Pretty much the same sort of things that any expert would have said about the web in 1992. The tools that these people are making and using, though, will turn out to be important, and they will be part of the story of what the internet does next. 

There is so much more to write about, but I feel I want to post something now, if only so that I can begin to sleep at nights again rather than wondering how I am going to put this experience in to words. It's made me question so much, including what I am doing with myself, and why the practices of the industry analyst companies are all - without exception -- so wedded to outdated industrial-era production techniques and management styles. I can't help thinking that all sorts of businesses, but especially ours that is so much about knowledge production, can learn a lot from the motivations and behaviours of citizen scientists.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Documents in my reference library

A random collection of links to documents - not all favoured, just a place to keep the links so as to file the hard copy (sometimes in the round filing cabinet).

http://neweconomics.org/publications/the-art-of-rapid-transition

 http://www.climate-change-jobs.org/sites/default/files/1MillionClimateJobs_2010.PDF

 http://neweconomics.org/sites/neweconomics.org/files/From_the_Ashes_of_the_Crash_1.pdf

 http://neweconomics.org/sites/neweconomics.org/files/The_Ratio.pdf

http://neweconomics.org/sites/neweconomics.org/files/A_Green_New_Deal_1.pdf

http://clients.squareeye.net/uploads/compass/documents/Good_Banking_webReady.pdf

http://clients.squareeye.net/uploads/compass/documents/Compass%20Banking%20WEB.pdf

http://clients.squareeye.net/uploads/compass/documents/Compass_Plan_B_web.pdf

http://www.lithium.com/pdfs/books/Lithium-The-Science-of-Social-eVersion.pdf

http://www.haringey4020.org.uk/report

http://www.atkearney.com/documents/10192/4b98dac5-0c99-4439-9292-72bfcd7a6dd1


Edward Bond's Bingo


Last night we went to see Bingo by Edward Bond.
We were all pretty fed up with it, and bored at the absence of character or plot development.

I've since had the chance to think about it, and I sort of understand it better now.

Edward Bond is a avowedly Marxist playwright. He thinks he's the English Brecht. He's not writing entertainment – the point of the play is to drive home a point. In this case (as so often) it is that the process of capitalist development involves brutality and cruelty, which is graphically depicted on the stage and described off it. The point is introduced early on the play – Shakespeare meets the nasty Coombs character, who explains that his plans to enclose the common will hurt the poor but benefit the town in the long term. In a short speech he manages to articulate the main principles of capitalist economics – the self-regulation of the market through the price mechanism, the re-allocation of resources to more productive uses, and so on.
The rest of the play is just driving this home. There isn't really a plot, we just see the full implications of this being played out. The poor do suffer, the vagrant girl is hanged, violent disorder and protest is crushed with greater violence. The Shakespeare character is perhaps a proxy for the middle class audience that Bond expects to be seeing the play. He is unhappy about the suffering but is concerned about his own financial security, and so refuses to act. Most of the play shows him not acting, and meditating on the fact that he hasn't. 
Unsurprisingly, this is not very enjoyable to watch. If there is another theme, it is that the family – particularly relations between parents and children, but also between husband and wife – are based on deceit and disrespect, not love. Both of the families depicted are unhappy, though the wife in the servant family is at least kind to her mad partner, while the wealthier Shakespeare is not kind to his mad wife.
So no plot really – just a long speech about the misery of capitalist accumulation, in period dress and with Shakespeare as a character because it's a play.
Here is the link to the good Wikipedia article about the play http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bingo_%28play%29
By the way, the other playwright in the tavern is Ben Johnson – Christopher Marlowe was dead by 1593, and the play is set later, around 1615, when Shakespeare is old.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Why I created my e-petition for a referendum on whether England should leave the United Kingdom


I'm not a nationalist of any kind. I don't think that England would be better off without Scotland, and I wouldn't necessarily call for separation from Scotland if I did. I don't bear Scotland any ill-will – like a lot of people in England, I'm quite sympathetic to Scottish independence. I like Scotland, and on my visits there I have been increasingly aware how much it is already a separate country.

I'm aware of the dangers of letting nationalist genies out of bottles, as happened in Yugoslavia. I'm aware of the danger that England without Scotland will be even more weighted towards the Tories.

I am, though, fed up with shoddy, ramshackle constitutional arrangements that sometimes pretend that the 'United Kingdom' is a federal state, when it so clearly isn't. The collection of 'nations', 'principalities', 'provinces' and what-not that make it up are not treated in anything like a common or symetrical way. If there is a Scottish Office, why isn't there an English Office? Why isn't there an English Parliament?

The United Kingdom is no longer a sensible working arrangement. Political manoeuvring and the games between Cameron and Alex Salmond might allow it to be preserved even further past its sell-by date, but that would be shame when there is a chance to put something better in its place.

I'm fed up with not even knowing what to write in the 'nationality' section on forms, and not knowing where to find my country on drop-down lists – is that United Kingdom, or Great Britain, or England...?

I'm also mildly fed up with the hypocrisy of politicians who pretend that they care what the electorate think, and go through the charade of these e-petitions, but don't really give a toss.

So creating an e-petition on an English referendum gives me the opportunity to have a go at all of this.

If any of this resonates, please sign the petition. It will at least be entertaining to hear the excuses that 'unionist' politicians come up with as to why Scotland can leave the United Kingdom, but England can't.

Friday, November 25, 2011

Economic illiiteracy at the BBC

I was surprised and disappointed to hear the BBC constantly repeat without any significant challenge the government claim that the public sector strikes were going to cost the nation half a billion pounds. This is a ludicrous, made up figure, based on the most spurious methodology. Consider, for example, the amount attributed to the 'cost' associated with parents having to take a day off work because their children's school will be closed. Some of those parents will arrange childcare, which is actually a boost to the economy in the way that economists measure it. Others will use up their annual leave to care for their children, which might be a shame for them, but does not represent a cost to the economy at all; indeed, since untaken holiday is treated by company accounts as a liability it is arguably also a boost to the economy.

Similarly, much of the cost is derived from the loss to the economy of people waiting at airports to be processed. Surely many of those people will be visitors to the country; while it's a shame that their entry to Britain will be a miserable experience, the time that they lose was never going to figure in the national accounts. And what about the people who spend their time in the queues making phone calls or sending emails? Many of them are surely as productive as they would be if they were the other side of the barrier.

The half a billion claim is economic illiteracy, and it was wrong of the BBC to promote it in that way.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

On the Green Party and its political strategy (or lack of one)


All political parties have political strategies. For the major political parties, the ones with the hope and prospect of forming a government, the strategy in an electoral democracy is relatively straightforward; campaign to win enough votes to form a government then implement policies.

There is a degree of complexity about the relationship between principles, philosophy, policies and the campaign strategy, because the major parties have to simultaneously enthuse their core supporters while appealing to floating voters. Thus for most of its existence the Labour Party maintained a formal commitment to socialism while making it clear that this would have no influence on how it would behave in government. Similarly, for at least the 1950s and 1960s, the Conservative Party maintained a formal commitment to the idea of free market economics while making it clear that it had no intention of dismantling the welfare state or abandoning state direction of what it called the mixed economy.

This tension notwithstanding, the basics for the major parties (usually not more than two in electoral democracies) are clear. Of course, there are endless refinements – do you emphasise the appeal to your core supporters, or to the floaters? Margaret Thatcher's success in the 1970s and 1980s was based on the understanding that Labour had lost touch with the concerns of a section of its core. The Labour right has traditionally sought to win over voters with no enthusiasm for socialism, while the Labour left has usually argued that the party would win if only it articulated a genuine socialist programme. But getting enough votes to win a majority, and then to use the power that comes with government, is what it is all about.

Minority parties face an entirely different problem. They usually don't have the problem of managing the contradictions between their principles and the policies they advocate. But they have to face the single, overwhelming fact that they are not going to win enough votes to form a government. This means that they need some other story about how why their members should give up their time to further the interests of the party, and why other supporters should vote for them at elections.

Revolutionary parties, including the parties of the far right, have a story; simplifying enormously, it says that they will eventually come to power, though not through the electoral process, which is fixed against them. At some time in the not too distant future there will be a transformation (a crisis of capitalism, a race war, the collapse of the economic system), at which point they will be ready. Until then, the focus of their political activity is to achieve that state of readiness, by recruiting members, preparing a correct programme, winning support for their ideas, and perhaps helping to push along the arrival of the transformative event.

Other kinds of minority party need a more sophisticated strategy, and a story to go with it. For the last thirty years Britain's centre party, in its various incarnations, has sought to win enough seats in parliament to force one of the major parties to allow it into a coalition government. It also hoped that it could then extract a change to the electoral system to make the latter more favourable to itself, thereby ensuring that coalitions would happen more often in the future. Presenting itself as a centre party, more or less equidistant from both of the major parties, was important to this strategy because it increased the party's freedom of manoeuvre to choose its coalition partner, and thereby the price it could charge for its support. All political activity was really subordinate to this strategy. Policies were adopted which made it possible for the centre party to win votes from against both major parties. There was activity at the local level with the intention of building up an activist and voter base, to prove that the party could win elections; on the few occasions where it actually achieved power at a local level there was usually some unhappiness, because the rigorous triangulation between 'left' and 'right' was hard to maintain. Of course, it barely needs saying that the events of the last year have effectively trashed this political strategy, and the present incarnation of the centre party badly needs a new story to satisfy its members and its voters.

Most other minority parties can't play the triangulation game. They have to seek influence through putting pressure on one of the major parties. Minority parties of the right, like UKIP and some of the European anti-immigrant parties, present themselves as being truer to the principles of the major right-wing party than the party is itself. Where the electoral system allows it, they can go after voters who are to the right of the major party, and with the intention of influencing it after the election by using its MPs to support its efforts to form a government; they will demand a price for this support, which demonstrates to their voters that there is a point in voting for them. Minority parties of the left can pursue the same strategy, again providing that the electoral system allows it.

Britain's first-past-the-post electoral system makes this strategy much more difficult. There is little chance that a minority party will get enough MPs elected to play a part in a post-election coalition. The only way to influence the major party to which one is closest is to threaten to hurt that party, by attracting sufficient votes to make it lose in some seats; the minor party can thereby argue to its supporters that its existence provides a counterweight to the major party's natural tendency to trim towards the centre and abandon its principles to attract floating voters. This is pretty much UKIP's political strategy in a nutshell – to force the Tories to the right by threatening to lose it marginal seats. The problem with this strategy is that it expects people to be make very complex bets about the voting intentions of others. UKIP wants to frighten the Tories into thinking that they need to move to the right, but its supporters don't actually want to hand the election to Labour. The same would apply to a moderately successful alternative left-wing party with respect to Labour; in order to actually influence Labour, it has to be able to pose a credible threat of costing it the election, but it knows that this is not what the voters to which it appeals wants to happen. That's why it's not only the centre party that campaigns for a different electoral system. Again, it barely needs saying that the defeat of the AV campaign in the recent referendum means that barring a transformative event like an economic collapse, a new electoral system is not going to be on offer for several years.

Which brings us, finally, to the political strategy of the Green Party. The party has a lovely vision of how it would like the future to be – lots of regulation to stop economic activity from damaging the environment, a redistributive tax system and government spending to make society more equal and to ensure that the poor and weak get looked after better, encouragement for alternative kinds of production and consumption, and for alternative economic and social arrangements like mutuals and co-ops. On specific issues it has lots of great policies, which many people who don't support or vote for the party would probably like if they knew about them. It has an unrivalled analysis of what is wrong with Britain and the world, which correctly links together things that are deliberately kept separate by mainstream politicians, like the relationship between debt, financial crisis and environmental destruction, or between economic growth and increased misery.

But in the place where there ought to be a political strategy – a story about how the party actually makes a difference, there is an empty space. It's theoretically possible that the party will gradually win over enough voters to form a government, but this is unlikely to happen within my children's lifetime.

We could try to influence Labour by being a more 'honest' presence to its left; but doing that properly would require us to be honest to ourselves that was what we were trying to do. We would have to target Labour marginals, and to target our message at voters and seats that Labour could otherwise hope to win.

Alternatively, we could consciously move towards the centre party slot. Although Green Party members are these days more likely to feel comfortable with the left, its voters and its ideological heritage are a bit more diverse; and it would be possible to position the party as in some way beyond the 'old-fashioned' left-right divide. At least in the short term this would be a way of picking up more electoral support, and perhaps influencing all of the major parties' policies a bit. It would provide a sort of justification for electoral activity in the face of the fact that we are never going to win power through elections. Again, doing this properly would require us to be honest to ourselves about what we were trying to do.

In principle, we could even move over to the right, worrying at the heels of the Conservatives . There is plenty of precedent for this within the history of the environmental movement, and there is probably political space for a movement that was radically conservationist and anti-capitalist. But we are not those sort of people, or that sort of a party, and most of us would jump ship in the face of such a turn.

Finally, we could position ourselves as much more like the revolutionary parties, even if we were not advocating any sort of insurrection. We would seek to change the way people thought rather than to win power for ourselves through the ballot box. We'd throw ourselves into campaigns and social movements, and use electoral activity as an opportunity to do this, rather than as a way of getting ourselves elected. We'd use both kinds of activity to demonstrate the validity of our analysis and arguments. I think lots of us would feel comfortable with this kind of strategy, which would be compatible with our values, principles and preferred activities – marching, demonstrating and so on. The problem with it as a strategy for the Green Party is that it's a more or less superfluous role, because there is already a vigorous environmental movement engaged in non-electoral campaigning and lobbying, which is more or less successful and does not appear to need a political party. The only justification for doing this is the sort of argument offered by the SWP, that the movement needs some sort of disciplined vanguard to do the co-ordinating and provide the correct ideas. This is arrogant, and unlikely to get us very far.

So there we are. As far as I can see the party of which I am a member, and whose ideas and policies I support the most, has no credible strategy to shape its political activities, and is simply keeping itself busy in the hope that something will turn up to make our efforts worthwhile and important.

Friday, February 18, 2011

What's mine is yours

Hats off to Rachel Botsman and Roo Rogers for writing this. They've synthesized and evangelized some disparate trends to show that there is something in common underlying them – a rejection of stuff in favour of services on the one hand, and relationships on the other. They've linked this to the sustainability agenda (because the production, consumption and disposal of stuff is wrecking the planet), and to the happiness agenda (because having more stuff doesn't make you happy, any more than eating more stuff does).

They distinguish between three different kinds of collaborative consumption – Product Service Systems (buying a service – like a rental car instead of a product); Redistribution Markets (like Ebay, but also Freecycle – to move stuff between people instead of making or trashing stuff); and Collaborative Lifestyles (the exchange of intangible assets like skills and time in moneyless contexts).

The book has a long introduction on how we got to here – the genesis of advertising and the creation of wants, planned obsolescence, and so on. The downside of this is it feels a bit padded – as with a lot of books about the new economy, what could have been a tight magazine article or series of blog posts has been blown out to make a book. Although it contains some fairly contemporary stuff, it's already out of date – no mention of Cameron's “Big Society”, for example. It's very anglo-american too; does nothing like this happen in Europe? Don't they do this sort of thing all the time in the developing world?

It's also a bit boosterish. There are times when it admits that a phenomenon doesn't really fit with their argument – a lot of what is sold on Ebay now is new stuff, so that it's become primarily a distribution market rather than a redistribution market – part of the problem rather than part of the solution. But it trips over this lightly, as if it doesn't really matter. It doesn't look at the antecedents of the product service system – after all, renting is hardly new. In the 1970s most people rented their color TV's because they were expensive and tended to go wrong. And businesses of all kinds are really keen to turn their product lines into service lines, because it makes for a continuing revenue stream – look at all the rubbish warranties that they are so keen to sell us, and the pay-as-you-go models that are becoming so common for IT equipment.

It also ignores the environmental impact of services, which can be at least as damaging as stuff; consider the airline industry, or the hotel industry. Just because it doesn't fill your house doesn't mean it's not trashing the planet. Not to mention the way that so many product service systems seem to make for such rotten jobs; at least manufacturing provided some skills and some dignity. Try working in a call centre, or a materials separation facility.

And it doesn't acknowledge the consequences of its own arguments. It trumpets that it's not anti-business, or anti-capitalist. But in the absence of a philosophy that takes in production for need, not exchange and accumulation, we really do need to keep making stuff and buying it and throwing it away. Our jobs, which allow us to pay the taxes which enable the welfare state, are premised on economic activity, which is mainly the circulation of stuff. We could have another kind of economic system, but if we don't, then stopping the flow of stuff throws us all out of work.

Nevertheless, it's an enjoyable read, and I'm glad it's been written and published. I think the book will help to spread the idea and make it seem more cool and attractive – even if Botsman and her consultancy are busy helping big business to work out how to take advantage of the trend. It's down to us to make sure that collaborative consumption becomes an element in the construction of a new genuinely human economy, rather than a cosmetic layer on the old one.

I wonder if the authors would be pleased or sorry that I ordered this book from the library rather than buying it?


Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Urban magic; The idea of an arcology

What's the attraction of arcologies, sea-steading, moveable cities and the like? Why are they such a common motif in popular culture as it relates to cities? Archigram's walking cities seem to be always in fashion, with retrospective exhibitions every few years. Philip Reeves' traction cities, as depicted in the Mortal Engines series of books, have introduced the concept to a new generation. The work of Buckminster Fuller is full of this stuff, from the mile-high dome over Manhattan to early plans for floating cities; and despite Fuller's inability to build things that actually worked in the way that they were supposed to, it remains popular with techno-hippy optimists who think that this sort of thing is a vision of sustainability.

I think it's because they are like magic for grown-ups. In children's books (and increasingly, grown-ups' books, but that's another story) magic is a way of easily resolving the problems of the physical universe – restoring the world to the way it was when you were little, and could get what you wanted without effort or deferment. In grown-up fantasies about the city, hermetically sealed or free-standing urban entities deal with the real-world problems of cities by pretending they don't exist, or by proposing technological solutions to them that work best in fantasy.

In the real world, the inhabitants of cities need food to be brought in every day, and it needs to be moved to where it's needed despite all those pesky people getting in the way. Sure, there have been times when some of this food has been produced within the confines of the city itself, and it's hard not to get dewy-eyed about dig-for-victory gardens, backyard chickens, and the urban pigs that graced London and New York into the nineteenth century. Others are turned on by urban agriculture as practised in Cuba, or by dreams of giant vertical farms within cities. But agricultural surplus in the surrounding countryside, and consequent surplus of population, is what has historically made cities possible.

Cities also create huge amounts of waste, which includes but is not limited to the organic waste products of their human and animal inhabitants. Disposing of this stuff is, and always has been, one of the biggest problems with which all urban settlements struggle. Again, the surrounding countryside has historically been the solution. Relatively straightforward arrangements have ensured that the shit was taken to where it was useful, with the result that the farms and market gardens in the vicinity of cities had above-average productivity.

As transport became cheaper, the definition of 'surrounding' countryside became wider. At the heart of the Roman empire, the city of Rome imported its grain from North Africa and elsewhere. When the empire collapsed under the weight of its political, economic and energy-equation contradictions, there was a move towards re-localisation. Transport did not become so easy or so cheap again until the nineteenth century; until then cities were usually smaller and more closely linked to their immediate region.

But by the nineteenth century London, as the centre of a global empire, was obtaining its grain from one continent and its meat from another, and thereby supporting a population far greater than its region would have allowed. In terms of economics, the city only made sense as part of a global system; in terms of ecology, it didn't really make sense at all. Despite a flourishing network of market gardens on the fringes of the city, its sheer size and population meant that the night-soil economy was no longer sufficient to move all of the shit, human and animal, away from where it wasn't wanted. The immediate result was the 'great stink', and the longer-term consequence was the Bazalgette sewerage system, which collects human faeces from within our homes, transports them in a gush of potable water and then dumps them, more or less processed, somewhere downstream of us. Moving people round the city presented an analogous problem, and modern methods of transport were only possible because they relied upon energy imported from outside the city's boundaries – first fodder, then coal and coal-fired electricity for trams and metropolitan railways, then petroleum.

Cities are complex technical systems, embedded in complex social systems, with the latter both logically and historically prior. Cities can't exist outside of a web of economical and social relationships, not only within themselves but with the rest of the world. The twentieth century was rich in examples of cities that were politically separated from their surrounding regions – think Hong Kong, Singapore, West Berlin, West Jerusalem, or Nicosia. All of these have survived and sometimes thrived because of the way that they managed to plug themselves into a bigger support-system.

The idea of an arcology, or of a city that can pick itself up and move out of its supporting bio-region to find a better one, is a fantasy of denial – of pretending that with the right technology, it would be possible to do without all those messy social arrangements. Some of these fantasies are influenced by green thinking, and others by its opposite – lots of the literature on 'seasteading' seems to be driven by the attraction of leaving the rest of humanity to go to hell, and the involvement of Milton Friedman's grandson is probably not a coincidence. There are utopian and dystopian versions of this, and some of the dystopias seem to be intended as warnings rather than blueprints. As a thought experiment, and as an influence on some more serious proposals for making cities 'smarter', these visions might be a useful tool.


Ultimately, though, in so far as they are intended seriously, these proposals are a kind of survivalist response to real urban problems – I can't hole up in the woods with a gun because I'd miss my cappuccinos, but my entire city can cut itself off from the world. As in Bob Dylan's “Talking World War Three Blues”, in which everybody sees themselves walking around with no-one else; all the people can't be all right all of the time. Believing that you can make your city sustainable by preparing it to go for a stroll belongs with the fairies at the bottom of the garden.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Life After Armageddon.

Watched 'Life After Armageddon', a US dram-doc, on Channel Five the other night. It depicts a society brought to collapse by an outbreak of flu, which has such a devastating effect because the country is so interdependent; once enough people stay home because they are ill, or to avoid becoming ill, everything fails, including water, power, law and order, and food distribution.

The program was a bit crass and repetitive, despite talking head slots from some of my favourite collapse theorists, but the scenario it depicts didn't seem particularly far-fetched. It seems worthy of comment that many of the tools which we are embracing to deal with the prospect of climate change -- such as more efficient transport networks, smarter power grids, and more reliance on the internet for work, shopping, and control systems generally -- actually make our civilisation less resilient to shocks. I don't know whether the internet would really stop working, in the way it does in the movie, once the workers in the server farms stop coming in to work, but it does bear thinking about.

I suppose the upshot of this is that there is more to sustainability than reducing power consumption; it's important to think about resilience, and reversibility. Of course we need to reduce our carbon emissions, but we ought to be aiming to do it in a way that doesn't create new systemic weaknesses and threats.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

The Story of Stuff

Yesterday I watched The Story of Stuff, an Internet video/film about the wastefulness of our throwaway consumerist society. It left me feeling a bit grumpy, because while it scores some good points, it ultimately disappoints. Yes, it's crazy to build our material civilisation on the constant stimulation of wants to be satisfied, and to trash natural resources to make stuff that we don't really like, only to throw it away to replace it with more stuff. Yes, there are lots of little insanities in that too. But when George Bush (and Tony Blair, for that matter) responded to the 9/11 and 7/7 terrorist attacks with an instruction that we should go shopping, they weren't just being crass or stupid.

Actually, our material well-being in the economic system that we have constructed really does depend on people carrying on buying stuff. If they stop, the whole edifice really does crumble. Unless we keep spending (and borrowing, for that matter) we can't get paid wages to buy the things we really do need - not just stuff, but also food, shelter, and even education, health care (which in civilised countries, the government buys on our behalf using taxes that it raises on economic activity ultimately premised on people buying stuff).

So calling for more recycling, less waste, and less conspicuous consumption, is nice but misses the point. Ditto pointing out that stuff doesn't really make us happy -- the point is that without the stuff and the buying, as we are presently organised we can't have the other things that stop us being really miserable. We can't move to a material civilization not based on the production and sale of stuff without a major change in the economic system - to one based on production for need, not production for exchange. That's a really, really big deal - not a little one that can be satisfied by recycling your glass bottles, or even making stuff in a less wasteful way in the first place. So far there are no good precedents for this - the most re-distributive social democratic societies are still premised on lots of making and selling. Only the Soviet Union seems to have tried another way, and that can hardly be characterized as an unqualified success.

Capitalism really does require perpetual growth, and on a finite planet. The borrowing from the future is not an accidental misdemeanor, it's fundamental to the way the system works. Ultimately this is not going to have a happy ending. But unless we can think of a way to step off the moving treadmill without trashing the means by which we sustain our lives, we can't write a different ending.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Aaronovitch on conspiracy theories

At the Latitude Festival last weekend, I listened to David Aaronovitch talking about conspiracy theories, to promote his book Voodoo Histories. I haven't read the book, so I'm just reviewing his talk. I didn't like it at all. He began by introducing the audience to the history of the Protocols, and about how it was shown to be a forgery; then he segued into post-9/11 conspiracy theories, and then on to the death of Diana. There was a bit of good-natured joshing at Dan Brown (particularly since half the audience admitted to having read The Da Vinci Code), and Brown's "source" Henry Lincoln.

As I said, I haven't read the book, so I don't know to what extent Aaronovitch engages with the preceding academic literature on this subject - for example, Norman Cohn's book on the Protocols, "Warrant for Genocide", or Richard Hofstadter's "The Paranoid Style in American Politics". In the talk, though, he warmed to his main themes - having a good laugh at the stupidity of people who believe the wilder conspiracy theories (like David Icke's theory that the world's elites, including the British royal family, are really giant blood-drinking lizards), and offering psychological explanations as to why people believe in conspiracies.

For me, the worst part of the talk was that Aaronovitch did not address the main reason that people believe this stuff -- because it's enough like the way the real world works. For example: Henry Lincoln's idea that the French royal family are the lineal descendants of Jesus, who escaped to the South of France and had children, and that most of the history of the Church is about how this has been covered up, does not stand up to much examination by an informed critical reader. But the Church has engaged in forgeries and cover-ups over much of its history. Consider the 'donation of Constantine', for example - a forged document which purported to show that the Roman emperor had transferred authority to the Pope. Or the forging of a paragraph in the writings of Josephus, which the Church claimed as a contemporary account of Jesus' life - subsequently shown to have been inserted by a later Christian writer. Lincoln's and even Brown's work has caught the imagination because it draws attention to something that many people suspect to be true but do not have the time or the resources to investigate for themselves - that theologians and the inner circles of the Church know that the ideas that they foist on others are not true.

The same might be said about the more contemporary and political conspiracy theories. Aaronovitch went on at some length about the (fictional) TV series Edge of Darkness, and about the widespread belief that the anti-nuclear campaigner Hilda Murrell had been murdered by the security services.

Aaronovitch laughed at the way conspiracy theorists believe both governments and corporations carry out secret medical experiments on unwilling subjects; but there are lots of well documented cases of them doing just that - experiments on British servicemen at Porton Down, mustard gas experiments on Indian soldiers at Rawalpindi, the CIA's K-ULTRA program of mind control experiments using drugs and hypnosis. The fact that this stuff has happened before, and that it was indeed widely denied and covered up, makes claims that other similar stuff is happening and is being covered up seem eminently plausible.

Similarly with the big claims about secret political arrangements, or government organisation of terrorism. Think about the way that Britain and France colluded with Israel in the Suez campaign, pretending to intervene "to separate combatants" in a war that they had themselves sponsored and arranged. Aaronovitch's claim that the real world is not as complicated at the conspiracy theorists make it out to be sits ill with the realities of the Iran-Contra affair, in which the CIA sold missiles to Iran and used the proceeds to fund the anti-Sandinista rebels in Nicaragua. The weapon sales were secret and illegal, the Israelis were involved in shipping the missiles, the Nicaraguan rebels were known to be using the weapons runs to ship drugs into the US - could you make this up?

In argument against the conspiracy theorists, Aaronovitch says that real conspiracies are less effective than the theorists would have us believe - it's not possible to cover up anything big and important for very long because too many people would have to be involved. But surely this is just the equally implausible obverse of the argument style of the conspiracy theorists, who faced with apparent evidence that their theories are wrong, say that this in fact proves that they are right. Aaronovitch is claiming that because we know that cover-ups have been exposed in the past, they must all have been exposed - there can't have been any successful cover-ups.

And this points to the real problem, both with Aaronovitch's account and with those of other meta-theorists of conspiracy theorists; they don't offer any way of distinguishing between a 'conspiracy theory' and a genuine expose of a conspiracy or a cover-up. This is made worse by the fact that, as with other kinds of 'rejected knowledge', the people who espouse are often a bit special - only people like that are prepared to carry on in the face of widespread hostility. The old joke about intellectual presumption goes: "They laughed at Galileo, they laughed at Einstein, and they laughed at Punch and Judy." Being rejected doesn't mean that you are a genius, just because some other geniuses were at some stage rejected.

But it's important to remind ourselves that science, are inherently and necessarily conservative most of the time. It's useful to hold on to an existing paradigm and continue to work out its ramifications and puzzles; we can't afford to have scientific revolutions every time a bit of contradictory evidence turns up. As with science, so with political and social discourse. On the one hand, we can't pay equal attention to every nutter who walks through the door claiming to have evidence that the moon landings were faked; on the other hand, it's equally important to realise someone's claims to have uncovered a government or corporate cover-up aren't necessarily invalid because they have an unfortunate manner or smelly beard.

What I liked least about Aaronovitch's talk, then, was that it seemed to be essentially a plug for the conventional wisdom and the establishment view. Everything is what it seems to be. People who question this are all nutters. If an idea about events or political realities seems implausible, then it is.

Aaronovitch is a good writer who also talks well. Yet he is heading towards Melanie Phillips-land as a professional ex-leftist (this week he is on Radio Four talking about how Joseph McCarthy's fears of Soviet infiltration of the US were justified). Really, he ought to pull himself together and think about whether his obvious talents should be aimed at helping the weak and poor, or whether he'd rather be a tame clown who exposes the foibles of radicals for the amusement of the rich and powerful.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Haringey Council's carbon emission targets

It's easy to find stuff about Haringey Council's aspirations to be the 'greenest borough', and even to find the specifics about its plans and targets to reduce its own emissions.

It's much harder to find out specific information about what the baseline is for these reduction targets. I searched for ages, to no avail. Now, a cynical person might think that baseline was being kept from us, so that the council can claim progress secure in the knowledge that no-one will be in a position to dispute this.

For once, the cynical person would be wrong. After some courteous correspondence with Councillor Joe Goldberg, I was provided with the specific data that I wanted. In fact, the baseline and the progress against it show the Council in rather a good light. In 2006-7, which is the baseline year, Haringey Council's NI 185 emissions - that is emissions from its own operations - were 44,790 tonnes. For real emissions anoraks, this is a 'weather corrected' figure. In 2007-8 they were 44,616 tonnes, a fall of 0.39%, but in 2008-9 they were 42,631 tonnes - a reduction of 4.82%. The comparable figure for 2009-10 is 41,894 - 6.47% below the baseline.

It would be nice to get some more detail about where the emissions are coming from, and where the gains were being made - but at least there are real reductions being delivered.

So why doesn't Haringey make more fuss about its genuine progress? In the 1980s the GLC had a big signboard outside County Hall, showing the number of people unemployed in London. Why doesn't Haringey have an emissions board outside the Civic Centre?

Thursday, July 08, 2010

Nokia takes irony to new heights

Nokia's publicity about "Conspiracy for Good", what appears to be some sort of immersive game around the theme of anti-globalisation protests, surely takes irony to a new level. The website seems to encourage people to play at being protesters, inviting them to take part in disrupting the activities of a fictional multinational corporation, and even to hack into its IT systems. Videos on the site deliberately blur the boundary between reality and game, implying that the game activity itself might actually become part of a 'conspiracy for good'. But Nokia really is a multinational corporation...is this so ironic that I don't get it? Or is Nokia making a corporate idiot of itself? I wish I knew.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

My first fab idea for the Spending Challenge

Let's start by turning the armed forces from a cost centre to a profit centre. That way we won't have to spend anything on them at all, or at least spend a lot less. We should learn from our country's proud traditions, and sell commissions to posh boys who don't know what to do with themselves.

We should also allow people and organisations (especially corporations) to sponsor units in the armed forces. There is a lot of space for logos to go on.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Bloody Sunday memory from a London school

I turned on the radio on Saturday morning to hear an Irish woman talking about the reaction to the Saville Inquiry and its conclusion. She talked about the reaction to the massacre at the time, and it brought back a personal memory that I hadn't thought about for a long time. In 1972 I was a young 14-year old, at a grammar school in North East London. I was beginning to take an interest in politics, but it didn't run very deep. I hadn't much thought about Ireland at all; the only time I remember having had a thought about it previously was as an 11-year old, reading the front page of the Daily Mirror about the Army storming into the 'no-go' areas in Londonderry. It must have been August 1969, and I recall thinking that this was probably a good thing, since the Army were the good guys and there shouldn't be any areas where they couldn't go.

In 1972 though, we had a new form master - Mr Sloan - who was also our Spanish teacher and French teacher. I've always been crap at learning languages, but for a short time that year I felt like I actually might be able to learn Spanish. Mr Sloan had that odd mixture of humour and menace that sometimes works in male teachers, which managed to convey that he was hard but fair. I really liked him and wanted to please him, so I made more effort with languages than ever before or since.

Mr Sloan's hardness was the more plausible because he was an Irish catholic from Glasgow. I didn't even know about the Glasgow Irish connection, but we learned a lot about it that year, along with stuff about how Franco's regime suppressed the Catalan language. We learned about gerrymandering, about the civil rights movement in Northern Ireland, and sectarianism. This was all at a boy's grammar school, where the headmaster had something of a reputation as a right-wing bigot. Somehow I connected Mr Sloan's Irish nationalism with my own emerging Jewish identity - part of no longer identifying as British or English, which up until then I had done. I didn't become any sort of Republican, but I no longer thought of either the Unionists or the Army as the good guys.

They day after Bloody Sunday Mr Sloan came into the classroom and wrote on the blackboard, in the space where he would sometimes write the names of those he wanted to intimidate. He wrote the number thirteen, and crossed it through and wrote the number twelve underneath. The point was that he was keeping score. One British soldier had been killed, so the deaths of the thirteen Bloody Sunday victims were on their way to being avenged.

It's kind of amazing to think that this could happen in a British school at that time. I think it would be on the front page of the Daily Mail now, and the teacher would be sacked and never work again.

I don't remember there being any consequences for Mr Sloan, though I also don't remember him continuing his scoreboard; funnily enough, I remember that he was pleased at the introduction of direct rule and the abolition of Stormont in 1973. Later that year he went off sick. He never came back as our teacher. We organised a collection for him, for a card and a present. I ended up buying the present, and chose a book about the IRA in the Civil War. He came back once to make a little speech of thanks. He looked really ill - thin, hairless and yellow. He died of cancer a few months later.

Friday, April 16, 2010

The debate

Watching the ‘Prime Ministerial Candidates’ debate, it was impossible not to be struck by how little difference there was between all three candidates. Clegg played the outside role dictated to him by his party’s position, but pretty much all the candidates had more or less the same sort. of answers to the carefully vetted questions.

This was only the first of three debates, but what was perhaps most revealing was the questions that weren’t asked. The debate was very much conducted on safe territory for the neo-liberal consensus to which all three candidates subscribe. No questions on climate change or peak oil, where the combination of market and moralising that they all like so much offers little or nothing. No questions on why Britain is involved in two wars in Muslim countries where it has little direct interest – just an easy ball on whether ‘our troops’ have enough kit. Clegg at least had the decency to raise the cost of replacing Trident, but all the candidates seemed to agree that the one thing we can afford was continued participation in whatever wars the Americans need us for.

And not even a question on the banking crisis. There was some verbal joshing on the precise mechanics by which the candidates propose to cut public spending, but nothing about how we got into this mess (bailing out the incompetently-run banks) and why it is so important to cut the deficit (er, to make sure that those same banks will carry on lending to the state at interest rates it can afford). Even this limited engagement with the question of who is going to pay the bill clearly went down like a bucket of cold sick with the minutely-analysed studio panel; so that’s probably the last we’ll hear about that. Until after the election, when you can bet that whoever wins will “discover” that the problems of the public finances were worse than they’d previously thought.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Inequality and New Labour

The Government's own National Equality Panel produced a report called Anatomy of Economic Inequality in the UK.

It shows:

  • The households in the top tenth of the UK wealth distribution have total wealth 100 times those in the bottom tenth

  • The share of wealth of the top 0.05% of the population declined from 1937 until the 1970s – but by 2000 this was higher than it had been in 1937

  • In the 1990s the top tenth increased its share of national wealth – but all of this was due to the increased wealth of the top 0.1%

This is not an inevitable consequence of globalisation or the market economy, or any other such bullshit. In other European countries the share of the top 1% did not increase, as it did in the UK (it declined from 1937 to the 1970s there just the same).

Britain is a more unequal society than our European counterparts. It has become more so during the thirteen years of 'New Labour' government. All the drivel about 'fairness' or 'an aspirational society' cannot hide this. If I needed reminding why I wasn't going to vote Labour, now I don't.

Peter Mandelson's famous dictum that New Labour was "intensely relaxed about people getting filthy rich" is the real face of New Labour; what we are seeing at the moment is the one that they dust off every few years for elections.