Ho ho ho

Bit busy today. Here are three things that made me laugh:

Sports Minister Gerry Sutcliffe… wants an inquiry into whether foreign players are to blame why the England team is doing so badly. They are indeed to blame - they are better than us. (Chris Dillow)

Confirmation bias is everywhere once you start looking for it… (Kris-Stella Trump)

Swift Boat Veterans attack Hillary’s Vietnam record (Olly's Onions)

Credibility

While saying, “I’m really pleased with my new mug – it’s that bit bigger than the old one, so there’s much less risk of spillage,” it is imperative not to spill your tea.

It’s doubly important not to spill it twice.

Mischievous statements and the rule of law

I hadn’t quite grasped the scale of Pervez Musharraf’s ‘coup within a coup’. The state of emergency, the dismissed judges, the arrested opposition activists – these have been well covered in the media.

But on top of this, last Saturday the law was changed to give the army powers to court-martial civilians:

the Army can now try civilians on charges ranging from treason, sedition and attack on army personnel to ‘assaulting the president with intent to compel or restrain the exercise of any lawful power’ and ‘giving statements conducive to public mischief’.

The new law will be retrospective, dating back to January 2003.

(Via Irfan Husain.)

Homeopathy: there’s nothing in it

Jeanette Winterson has a (possibly) peer-reviewed article in today’s Guardian, arguing in favour of homeopathy. She begins with an anecdote of a time when she was ill:

My desperate publisher suggests I call Hilary Fairclough, a homeopath who has practices in London and Penzance. She sends round a remedy called Lachesis, made from snake venom. Four hours later I have no symptoms whatsoever.
Dramatic stuff, and enough to convince me that while it might use snake venom, homeopathy is no snake oil designed for gullible hypochrondriacs.

A neat turn of phrase, but actually very apt. Given the massive dilution that homeopathic ‘remedies’ use, I’m sure there was absolutely no snake oil (or any other snake product) at all in the bottle that Winterson had.

She says: “I admit it is hard to talk about what it is that homeopathy actually does, or why it works.”

No, it’s easy. What’s hard is to argue that it does anything more than deploy a placebo effect. The official story, of course, is that homeopathy “follows the ‘like by like’ premise - that tiny dilutions of the ‘problem’ can prompt the body to effect its own cure”.

This sounds a little bit like the principle by which vaccination infection works, but in the latter case there’s a coherent and superbly documented mechanism: the immune system can successfully deal with a weak – but real – dose of a disease’s causative agent, in the process producing the antibodies that make it easier to fight any future infection. It’s essentially preventative. Homeopathy isn’t. And of course, the quantities of infectious agent used in a vaccine are non-imaginary.

Objections to homeopathy begin with what are viewed as the impossible dilutions of the remedies, so that only nano amounts of the original active substance remain, and in some cases are only an imprint, or memory. Yet our recent discoveries in the world of the very small point to a whole new set of rules for the behaviour of nano-quantities.

“Imprint”. “Memory”. The bottle of homeopathic remedy one takes home may well have precisely zero molecules of the supposed active agent, but despite being diluted into annihilation, what remains is somehow held to ‘remember’ this ingredient.

There’s no scientific evidence that this happens, or known physical mechanism by which this could happen (Winterson’s subsequent hand-waving about nanoparticles notwithstanding – like the intelligent design mob, homeopaths pounce on anything not currently completely understood and try to erect an altar there to their god of the available gaps).

Furthermore, any homeopathic remedy will have had quantities of many other substances polluting it at some stage, and yet the ‘memory’ of these is supposed to be forgotten.

On top of this, the effect that the alleged active ingredient (or more accurately ‘egredient’, given that it’s been diluted away) has is something operating not at the physical/chemical level but, supposedly, at the level of any of a number of malaises experienced by the patient. This means that an apparently undetectable microphysical phenomenon responds directly to the intentions of the people preparing and prescribing the remedy – perilously close to a belief in psychic powers.

In reality, though, homeopathy works via the intentions and hopes of the patient. In fairness, I must note that Winterson addresses the ‘just a placebo’ charge head-on, citing almost one published study:

I am sure that there is a placebo effect in homeopathy, but it is a fact that many of the people who end up visiting a homeopath do so as a last resort, when nothing else is working. That such people often see an improvement suggests that the remedies themselves are contributing to the wellness of the individual.

Rubbish: desperation breeds faith. And you really don’t need a lorryload of pseudoscientific mumbo-jumbo to explain the placebo effect. However, such specious blather can be very handy in actually bringing the effect about.

Council tax referendums

The Tories are proposing that if a council wants to increase council tax by more than some threshold rate, it will have to have a referendum. Using my new iCrystalBall, I’ve been able to see how councillors will react to this system…

Cllr Smith: We want to raise council tax from £1000 to £1050, but if we go over £1040 we’ll have to have a referendum, which we might lose. Then we’ll have to knock £10 off next year’s bill as a rebate.

Cllr Jones: OK, let’s go ahead with £1050 and then if we lose the vote, we can just make next year’s rise £10 more than we would have done. That’ll cancel out the rebate.

Cllr Smith: You mean make next year’s £1110 rather than the £1100 we’d probably have gone for? But then we’ll have to have another referendum, which again we’ll risk losing.

Cllr Jones: True enough, but in that case we can just keep rolling it over.

Cllr Smith: But won’t people realise and kick us out at the next council election?

Cllr Jones: Don’t be stupid. Regular democratic elections are no way of holding politicians to account. That’s why the Tories have made us more locally accountable by forcing this referendum rule on us: it’s so that there can be more local discretion over our decisions.

Cllr Smith: Hang on – weren’t we free to hold referendums anyway, over and above standing on a manifesto for election regularly?

Cllr Jones: Yes, but you can’t seriously think that this is the sort of thing that can be left to local discretion. Have you met us? We’re a bunch of lazy, useless halfwits concerned only with protecting our own fiefdoms and milking our publics. So, now we’re going to be told from Westminster how to make ourselves democratically accountable to the people who elect us anyway. I like to think of it as top-down localism.

Cllr Smith: What if we want to cut services so we can fund a tax cut bribe, though? Won’t we have to hold a referendum on that too?

Cllr Jones: Of course not. We can cut all we like, as tax and public spending are now officially bad. The new electoral law recognises this by insisting public votes be held based on this premise.

Neil Hamilton: an apologist

Neil Hamilton’s political career collapsed after allegations that he had taken cash in brown envelopes to ask questions in the House of Commons.

Given his latest column in the Daily Express, it seems clear that he was unfairly accused. Mr Hamilton does not, it appears, want any contact with anything brown:

Enoch Powell was my friend for 30 years. He was no racist.
…
Immigration is out of control and millions of indigenous Britons feel like foreigners in their own country.
…
On current trends, ethnic Britons will cease to be the majority group in Britain sometime in the next century.

Oh, how are the lowly fallen.

(Hat tip: Oliver Kamm.)

Consent and sex education

Usually I like to pour scorn on the Conservatives; usually, they deserve it. But on the matter of rape some qualified bipartisanship may not be a bad idea.

The conviction rate, as David Cameron points out, is far too low. He doesn’t offer anything in the way of a policy to improve this, but it’s a huge and complex question, and one hopes a future policy review will be useful. Even raising the issue is always worthwhile.

There are plenty of hurdles at which the process often falls: according to a January report by the Inspectorate of Constabulary [PDF, p8], from a third to a half of court cases involving adults result in acquittals. But before that, between a half and two-thirds of reported cases don’t go beyond the investigation stage. And more than three-quarters of rapes are never even reported to the police.

Cameron talks more broadly about the need to change social attitudes (which of course is right), and one concrete proposal of his I agree with the spirit of – while regretting that he doesn’t go further:

And we need our schools to talk about consent to sex when they teach sex education. I know there are some parents who have concerns about sex education, and they should reserve the right to opt their child out. But I believe that sex education, when taught properly, is extremely important. It should not be values-free. That must mean teaching young people about consent: that 'no' means 'no'. At the moment, this is not even compulsory in the sex education curriculum. This has to change - and it will change with a Conservative government.

I should say that I have no knowledge of the current sex education curriculum, but I’ll take his word for it.

But there’s a really disappointing tension between his recognition that this “must” be “compulsory” in the curriculum and his deference to parents’ “right to opt their child out”.

Cameron’s colleague Theresa May is right to say: “Boys need to be educated that no means no.” This is needed. Sex education in general is one thing that relates to making children into good citizens and preparing them for life, rather than focusing on exams and league table places. It’s not trendy political correctness, it’s not promoting licentiousness, and it should not be optional. It should not depend on the prejudices and sensibilities – often the religious views – of parents.

Just as Jehova’s Witnesses shouldn’t be able to stop their children from having vital blood transfusions, so parents shouldn’t be able to stop their children learning about the vital social, moral and legal issue of sexual consent.

This is a politically tough nettle, and the more parties willing to grasp it, the better.

Sloganising

Danny Finkelstein, on his Times blog, recently invited readers to take part (tongue preferably in cheek) in the Government’s vague quest for a national motto.

Many, many suggestions were made, and a selection appears in today’s paper – including my own: “Promoting ahistorical unity myths since 1066”.

Others I like include: “Less stuffy than we sound”, “Once mighty empire, slightly used”, “We strive for valiant defeat”, “Sorry, is this the queue?” and “Americans who missed the boat”.

I’m pretty sure that every single person in the country knows that this national motto idea is ridiculous anyway (Gordon Brown and Jack Straw included). Invented traditions can work, but I think you need a reasonably deferential, homogenous culture for them to work. We don’t have one of those. So the only way any motto could get any popular traction is if it were already familiar to a lot of us. We’re looking at something in the territory of “A green and pleasant land”, “It’s a free country” or “This precious stone set in the silver sea”.

Actually, I really do like this from Churchill, although it’s not one of his better-known quotes: “The further back I look, the further forward I can see.”

Relatedly, I’m thinking about replacing the strapline at the top of this blog. The current one’s getting a bit tired, I think, and arguably it was never that awake to start with. I’m toying with “Positive, constructive, and focusing on the issues – not like those other bastards”… but any suggestions welcome.

Super-cleaners vs middling managers

Chris Dillow imagines a parallel world:

In it, office cleaners are very well paid. This is because most people believe a clean office is vital for an organization’s productivity.

Managers, on the other hand, are paid decently but not massively: their organisational skills are certainly valuable, but it’s not seen as worth a fortune – and it’s unlikely that you’ll be able to spot the rare super-managers reliably.

Chris argues that:

the forces of demand and supply that cause high or low salaries can be ideological constructs. In our parallel world, ideology creates a high demand for cleaners and low one for bosses. In our actual world, things are reversed.

Say Chris is right. If so, then there’s probably too much inertia in the system for this to change easily – even if some people realised their ideological mistakes. Markets treat well-paid managers and poorly paid cleaners as a sign of a good business model (attract executive high-flyers, but keep other costs down), and variations from this are liable to be punished by falling share prices. Furthermore, if most of the market sticks with the existing view, then a merely reasonably paid managerial job will be hard to fill.

Ideology isn’t an abstraction; it seizes people’s minds, often subtly, and shapes the world through them. As Joan Robinson said: “Ideology is like breath: one does not smell one’s own.”

Cameron brings back Jonathan Aitken

Ex-Cabinet minister, serial liar, wielder of the simple sword of truth, bearer of the trusty shield of British fair play, born-again jailbird, intermittent UKIP supporter and spurner of Carol Thatcher’s charms Jonathan of Arabia has returned unto us!

Should take some of the heat off Lord Ashcroft’s tax status, eh?

Pakistan teeters

Just as there’s a rare, tiny glimmer of light in Burma, Pakistan moves in the opposite direction.

Ali Eteraz thinks that the better analogy for Pakistan may be pre-1979 Iran – in which case we should probably start being terrified:

Dictators are incapable of eliminating extremism. A dictatorship is afflicted with the original sin of having seized power with violence, and therefore has no moral authority to speak against those who employ violence. A dictatorship is bereft of the psychological calm that comes from being popularly elected and lives life like an anxious little demon, spraying bullets wildly, without aim or purpose.

Michael Currie Schaffer, though, thinks he knows where ‘President Pervez W Busharraf’ is getting his rhetorical inspiration from.

And the ever-useful Power and Interest News Report judges:

With the November 3 decision to declare emergency rule, Musharraf has alienated the professional, political and Islamist forces in the country. His ability to remain in power comes from the support of the military, which itself appears to be divided.

…
The bottom line is that the United States has supported Musharraf because he has been the most stabilizing factor in the Pakistani equation. However, now that it is clear that Musharraf's rule itself has become a destabilizing force, Washington will likely seek alternatives to its policy of supporting Musharraf even though few, if any, exist.

One blood-chilling alternative is suggested by Marty Peretz. If Pakistan is indeed likelier than Iran to be the place where Islamist extremism acquires nukes, desperate measures might be required:

if Pakistan descends further into the inferno that I expect, it is the responsibility of the United States… to secure the nuclear stockpile and 
the manufacturing facilities and laboratories that underlay this nightmare. Does the U.S. possess a practical scenario with this as a goal?

I really doubt that it does. Pakistan is twice the size of Iraq and has six times the population. I wonder how much luck a ‘securing’ force would have in explaining its good intentions to the disparate sections of Pakistani society that have been living under a US-backed dictator.

Partition was supposed to make Pakistan a nation rather than a mere state; it increasingly seems that Pakistan is a cauldron instead. Some painful compromises are going to be needed to turn the heat down and restore first calm and order, then a more liberal democracy, and slowly, eventually, a stable national settlement.

Holding fast to our freedoms

It’s a basic fact of human existence that placing yourself inside a fast-moving metal box on wheels endows you with super powers and the wisdom of Solomon. Why governments fail to recognise this and give motorists extra rights accordingly is the great mystery – and scandal – of our age.

In the face of the suggestion that breaking the speed limit by a lot should result in more penalty points than breaking it by a bit, there’s been the predictable uproar from Safe Speed, the self-styled “road safety campaign” whose primary aim seems to be the abolition of speed cameras. It turns out that they don’t just dislike this idea as well, but they don’t like speed limits at all.

Their press release says:

We all know that it's important that no on should drive too fast, but the speed limit cannot tell us what too fast is.

Quite right too. Tarot cards, pig’s entrails and how much of a hurry you’re in are much better guides to what too fast is.

Drivers will rightly be concerned that they will be faced with losing their licences for six months after two perfectly routine cases of driving safely. We all know that exceeding the speed limit isn't automatically dangerous.

Quite right too. And jumping a red light isn’t automatically dangerous either, if your good, plain, down-to-Earth common sense tells you it’ll probably be all right. Likewise, driving while drunk won’t automatically cause a crash, and firing a gun randomly into the street won’t necessarily kill anyone.

Why can this fascist nanny state of ours not understand that most of us are much better drivers than average, and that we’re quite capable of judging our own safety standards?

This is where the logic of ‘social responsibility’ can take you.

(Declaration of interest: my dad was knocked down by a van this week. No major injury, thankfully.)

(Second declaration of interest: I use roads and am made of flesh and bone.)

Fictional empathy: we can’t help ourselves

Ophelia Benson (followed by Norm Geras) has been wondering why we care about fictional characters? Obviously there has to be a certain quality of representation involved, but even so: we never truly forget that the people we’re seeing on a stage or screen, or reading about in a book, are not real. They don’t exist and the things that are ‘happening’ to them don’t actually happen either.

(One distinction neither Ophelia nor Norm draws is between a moving biography and a moving work of fiction. In both cases what you’re getting is just a performance or just spoken/written words, so even if biographical you’re at a remove from the events. But I think the interesting question is about why we can be as touched by constructions we know to be imaginary as by reconstructions we know to be accurate.)

Ophelia reckons it’s down to the fact that we’ve evolved as social animals, and as a result “we have this hypertrophied faculty of thinking and feeling about the interior worlds of other people - so hypertrophied that it works even (or especially) on people who don't actually exist”.

I think that’s right. Young children often attribute intentions, emotions and other mental states to inanimate objects; I myself am sometimes tempted by the thought that my computer is consciously trying to thwart my every move.

And yet… we know, at every point in the experience, that these fictional characters aren’t real. The anthropomorphising infants don’t know any better, and when they do, they stop thinking about objects in this way. So why does the feeling persist in adults who do know better?

Have a look at this. Hopefully you’ll have seen it before:


This is the Muller-Lyer illusion. Which line is longer? The bottom line looks longer, but of course they’re both the same. The optical illusion is produced by the inward/outward angling of the fins at the ends. Certain built-in unconscious expectations about perspective and size affect the way we see these lines, whether or not we know better and try to see them otherwise.

I think our fictional empathy is a bit like that. We’re presented with what may very superficially seem to be real people undergoing real events. Our theory-of-mind faculty comes into play, but it does so in a way that defies, at least partly (we can always redirect our attention) conscious control and better knowledge. Our emotions are being produced essentially intertwined with – not as a result of – our comprehension of the narrative.

And I think there’s another factor. Norm suggests that:

part of the power of fiction is that we take it as telling us something credible about real people. So though the characters are fictional rather than real, might it be that what happens to them we take as embodying things that either have really happened or could really happen to real people; and so, through the characters, we sorrow for others, rejoice or whatever, in a more abstract way?

This makes sense too. When we encounter a real-life instance of, say, heroism or compassion, we are emotionally affected. No surprise there: it’s real. But what if some of that emotional reaction is not just about how taken we are by so-and-so’s particular bravery, but rather relating to how glad we are that such bravery can exist, and how this is symbolically inspirational as well as specifically laudable?

I think such reaction to the abstract often does play a part in our reactions to the particular. And so, this generalised part of the emotional response could well carry over into our responses to fiction: an example need not be real to be a good example (as I’ve argued in a very different context before).

Curiously, I think, the converse of this process happens at the same time: we not only generalise from fiction to the world as a whole but also draw specific parallels or contrasts with ourselves. One thing I’ve long found is that a good piece of fiction leaves me thinking about it for some time after; a great piece of fiction leaves me thinking about my own life as well.

(Update: Mick Hartley and George Szirtes have also posted their thoughts on this, and very interesting thoughts they are too.)

The strongest links

Today I’m very tired – still slightly reeling from Friday night excess somehow – and so I’m not really up to blogging properly. So while I wrestle with my bad karma, here are some other things you might fancy clicking on:

Anticant ponders the links between individual self-images, demonisation of ‘enemy’ groups and the shifting of blame.

Paulie can’t decide whether it’d be good or bad for the “rabid” tendency in the Tories to quit the party en bloc. Do help him out.

Ashok Karra muses that friendship is “perpetual risk”, and so people ready to abandon their friends are being over-cautious rather than reckless and flighty.

What do you get if you mix a bunch of lefty bloggers together, add seasoning, heat gently, and then get rid of the crappy cooking metaphor? You get a Liberal Conspiracy. Could be interesting.

Jason Burke reports on the political intricacies of the Pakistan-Afghanistan border region.

Ebonmuse considers mortality, ignorance and humility, and argues that pasting a fairytale on to the mysteries of existence is not just a poor answer, but worse than no answer at all.

Henry Farrell refers us to an academic paper on the internal problems faced by terrorist organisations. At least they don’t have to deal with their members going on strike to demand an above-inflation rise in the number of heavenly virgins they get.

Matt brings us the joys of metric time. Now, if only there were some sort of unelected bureaucracy, preferably based in a foreign city named after a sprout, to impose it on us.

Hillary Clinton has a foreign policy. And, according to her, it’s very good indeed. (Ditto John McCain, Rudy Giuliani, John Edwards, Barack Obama and Mitt Romney.)

Meanwhile, it seems that Dick Cheney is turning into his boss.

Me good word learning make happens

Andrew Adonis, schools minister, has this to say on the subject of raising literacy standards:

Initiatives like Every Child a Reader is designed to provide these important interventions.

Yeah, I know: it’s a cheap shot. Let me make it a tad less cheap by saying that there are two grammatical errors in that sentence. What’s the other one?

(And yeah, I also know that smugness is never attractive. Good job I’m a looker, too.)

Tories accidentally promise EU referendum

While raging against Labour’s refusal to hold a referendum on the EU treaty, they’ve been very cagey about whether they’d hold one if they win the next election – presumably after the treaty has come into force.

Numerous Tory Europhobes are demanding a retrospective vote as a matter of principle, but David Cameron has been deeply reluctant to concede one, knowing that such a move would take his party into the politically very tricky territory of full-blown renegotiation of Britain’s EU membership.

But yesterday the Tories published a poster as what they must have thought was a jolly jape, apologising for the lack of an election that day and promising that all sorts of wondrous improvements to the country would be “delayed until the election of a Conservative Government”.

One of the things the poster says will follow their election is, yes, “A vote on the European Constitution”. Oops.

Well? Is that a commitment or just an aspiration? Or should we not believe their PR at all?

More from the Nasty Party

The sustained Tory programme of character-assassination-cum-amateur-psychoanalysis continues apace.

This time it’s Michael Gove who’s giving us his insights into Gordon Brown’s tortured psyche:

He had to recognise the new individualism which social change had brought about - although in his heart he could not reconcile himself to it. And he has had to accept that the attachments which stir British hearts are not those which once stirred his - and it leaves an aching emptiness inside.
…
Because acquiring power has involved a sacrifice of so much, in terms of youthful idealism, the surrender of any power is an acutely painful exercise to contemplate.

I suppose it’s an intellectual notch or two up from calling Brown “autistic”, but just as contemptibly personal. And particularly hypocritical, as Gove goes on to say:

In public debate [Labour] choose not to offer hope, but simply go on the attack. Instead of introducing a new and more plural style of Government they have tried to resurrect an old politics of division, denigration and distortion.

(For a great dissection of the flaws in Gove’s speech, see Hopi Sen.
[Update: And Tom Hamilton.])

Far-away lands of which he knows little

Last Friday David Cameron made a really bad speech in Berlin on foreign policy. It was intended as a rebuttal of “liberal interventionism”, which Cameron associated with Tony Blair but defined only as “the idea that we should just get out there into the world and 'sort it all out'”.

That’s the quality of his analysis. But of course it’s an ancient rhetorical trick to kick over straw men; no matter that nobody actually holds such a view.

He identifies the main global security problem as failed states:

Failed states not only fail to provide security for their own people, they threaten the security of others by serving as a launchpad for terrorism and violence. And failed states have a global, not just a regional impact.

Correct. But he goes on to explain (if that’s the word) two principles that underpin his own view:

My first principle may seem counter-intuitive: that to help protect international security, any state must put its own national security first.
My second principle is that we should replace the doctrine of liberal interventionism… with the doctrine of liberal conservatism… in the sense of a sceptical attitude towards the ability of states to create utopias.

Again, that states can create utopias is a view nobody holds (beyond perhaps a few lingering communists).

He does accept that:

‘National security first’ may sound like a perverse principle to adopt in an age of complex and globally linked security threats. Surely it is more important than ever that we put international security first? I don't agree. Every good military commander understands that no campaign will succeed unless you secure your home base first.


Oh my word. ‘Look at me, I’ve talked to some soldiers.’ Even as he tries to distance himself from any ‘war on terrorism’ outlook, he still buys into the way of talking about all global security challenges through a military metaphor.

But of course we know that he’s not really trying to refute a view that nobody holds; he’s just trying to disown the interventionist foreign policy of the Blair years. But the paucity of his analysis shows in the fact that despite his broader intent, he can’t say which of Blair’s wars – Kosovo, Sierra Leone, Afghanistan, Iraq – he might oppose.

As with grammar schools, Cameron seems to oppose military interventions – except for those that already exist.

So much for the intellectual quality. But his isolationist turn – reminiscent of pre-9/11 Bush – is a stinker of an idea in itself. Paul Collier, an Oxford expert on development policy, has an approach far better for combatting both global insecurity and poverty in failed states. A key element is that military interventions are – in severe cases – vital. He notes that:

…much of Africa faces high risks of internal insecurity from rebellions and coups. Partly this is due to decades of economic failure, and partly because the typical country is too small to reap security economies of scale. Africa needs a stronger international-security presence: prolonged peacekeeping in the fragile post-conflict situations, and "over-the-horizon" security guarantees elsewhere. Both of these should be conditional upon clear standards of governance which could be set by the African Union. The model is the provision of external security for Sierra Leone, about the most effective form of aid Europe has ever given to Africa.

Perhaps Cameron has succumbed to the pop-Whiggish view of British history that has (paradoxically) many Tory fans: that a country left to its own devices will naturally progress towards greater security, prosperity, freedom and democracy.

Some do; others do not. A thousand idiosyncracies shaped Britain’s development, and if we care about what happens in the political wrecks of the world that have their own unique situations, then external engagement is not utopian recklessness but a practical and humanitarian necessity. Sometimes this engagement will have to take a military form.

Scottish votes for English votes for English laws?

The ‘English votes for English laws’ (EVEL) idea being kicked around by the Tories ought to be subject to a referendum – as were the devolutionary changes in Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland and London.

But not a referendum in England.

Last week, I argued (in the context of the EU treaty) that in a representative democracy, “a referendum would be justified when a proposal would significantly weaken the link between people and policy by removing significant power from [their elected representatives]”. Hence the devolution referendums we’ve had were appropriate.

But what people-policy link would be weakened by EVEL? Not the link between English voters and policy outcomes, but rather the link between Scottish, Welsh etc., voters and policy outcomes. The people who would lose power are the ones who deserve a say: the loss of their MPs’ voting rights at Westminster was not part of the devolution settlements they voted for. A fresh mandate would be needed. Sure, an English referendum could be reasonable as well, but it’s not required on such moral grounds.

I’m sure the idea won’t catch on, but the logic of it seems pretty solid.

My own view on this is still pretty much as it was in a pair of posts last year: the House of Commons needs to stay unified and MPs procedurally equal in order to ensure the coherence of the Government – which derives its authority from the Commons. But that still leaves us the House of Lords to play with.

[Update: interesting takes on this issue can be found at Cassilis and Big Sticks and Small Carrots.]

“Mad people wielding razor blades”

Say what you like about Vladimir Putin (preferably if you don’t live in Russia), but he’s got a great turn of phrase.